Word of Honor

  He waited there for a moment, trying to think. The building smelled of antiseptic and brought back memories of his twenty-five years in captivity. The scent of iodine and blood filled his senses, along with the smell of cigarette smoke and body odor. His head began to hurt, and he sat down on the top step and clutched it.

  He shouldn’t have come here. But he had to help the kid.

  And he had to do something about the government. And that detective. His wife was here somewhere having a baby. Where were they?

  He went up to the fourth floor, looked out into the hall. It looked like the third floor, so he went up one more. He pushed into the hall and saw the nursery window a few yards away. And then he saw her. Jill Clark, standing there with the man he had almost killed with her.

  He couldn’t believe his luck.

  They were all right here, right under his nose. Shortly, they would discover that Pete wasn’t breathing, and they’d call the FBI and more police, and they’d all be here, like corralled sheep waiting for the end.

  He ducked back into the stairwell and hurried down. When he got to the first floor, he bolted out, but his paranoia kept him from going through the lobby.

  Were they looking for him? Did they know he was here?

  He slipped into the cafeteria and headed back to the kitchen, as if he knew where he was going. The people in the kitchen were too busy to notice him as he cut through. There was a delivery door at the back left corner of the room where two guys were unloading some boxes of bread from a truck. He slipped behind a steel refrigerator, and waited until they began rolling the boxes further into the kitchen. When it was safe, he jumped on the truck and got behind a stack of boxes.

  After a moment, the guys came back out and closed the doors of the truck. In moments, he felt the truck moving.

  He laughed lightly to himself. He had escaped again. They were never going to catch him. As the truck pulled out of the hospital parking lot, he got up and peered out the small back windows. He saw a police car and convinced himself they were really the FBI, looking for him.

  Perfect, he thought. The more the merrier. With everyone here, he could fulfill the rest of his mission. He could do away with all of them. He didn’t have to worry about Pete Hampton anymore. By the time Frank got back, Pete would be gone.

  He could get the feds, the detective who was having a baby, the communist doctors who ran the place, Jill Clark and her boyfriend, all of the ones who were responsible for the communism bleeding the country of its freedoms. All he would need was this truck, a few barrels of fertilizer, some diesel fuel, and a few other critical items. When he was finished, they’d give him another Medal of Honor.

  All he had to do was wait until the drivers parked it for the day. Then he could take the truck and gather the ingredients he needed. Before dark, he’d have the whole place going up in flames.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  One, two, three, breathe! One, two, three, breathe!” Stan wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. Celia squeezed his hand with all her might as she tried to follow his instructions.

  He could see from the contraction monitor that her contractions were getting intense, and he couldn’t imagine that this would go on much longer. When he saw the line peak out on the monitor and then begin to descend, he grabbed the wet towel next to her and began to dab at her face. “You okay, baby?”

  She was relaxing now, letting go of his hand. “Yeah,” she said, breathless. “That was a bad one.”

  “Sure you don’t want an epidural?”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “It’s not a contest, you know. You don’t have to do this natural stuff.”

  “How much longer do you think it will be?”

  “Not much longer.”

  She took in a deep, cleansing breath. “I don’t want to slow things down. I can do it.”

  “The contractions are two minutes apart,” he said gently.

  He heard something crash out in the hall, then a man’s voice rising. Over it all, he heard, “You let me through them doors or you gon’ be all over that floor, you!”

  He knew Aunt Aggie’s voice. Celia met his eyes. “You might as well go in and rescue her,” she said. “She’s gonna get in here one way or another.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Stan asked.

  Celia nodded. “I love Aunt Aggie. Just let her come in and see that I’m okay, and then we’ll get her out of here when the next contraction starts.”

  Stan hurried to the door and leaned out into the hall. “Aunt Aggie, what are you doing?”

  “Tellin’ me I need to stay in the waitin’ room!” she spouted. “Don’t nobody belong in there if I don’t!”

  Stan took her hand and pulled her into the room. “You can’t stay very long, Aunt Aggie. Celia’s having a real hard time.”

  “They call the doctor?” she demanded. “They told him she’s havin’ trouble?”

  “Not trouble-trouble,” Celia said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “It’s normal. I’m just getting to the end.”

  “The baby ready?” Aunt Aggie cut in. “Where’s the doctor at? Why ain’t he in here with you?”

  “He’ll be here shortly,” Celia said. “They’re checking on me regularly.”

  “Checking on you?” Aunt Aggie shouted. “If you wanted me and Stan to deliver that baby, we coulda did it at home, you. Don’t need to pay no doctor for dancin’ in here when he feels like it, and checkin’ on you!”

  Stan saw the line on the monitor beginning to rise, indicating another contraction, and Celia reached for his hand. “Aunt Aggie, you need to go now,” he said gently. “Celia’s having another contraction.”

  “I’ll call the doctor!” the old woman said, heading for the door.

  “No, you don’t need to call the doctor. It’s not time yet.”

  “Look at her!” Aunt Aggie said. “She’s in agony! Sha, you gon’ be all right?”

  Celia was clenching her teeth and breathing hard.

  “Come on, baby, let’s count,” Stan said. “One, two, three, breathe! One, two, three…”

  “She don’t need you countin’ at her, you!” Aunt Aggie shouted.

  Stan stopped counting and decided to do whatever it took to get Aunt Aggie out. “Go get the doctor, Aunt Aggie. Tell him the contractions are a minute and a half apart.”

  Without another word, Aunt Aggie rushed from the room, on a mission to bring a doctor back with her.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Jill and Dan got to the maternity floor just as Aunt Aggie came running out of the room. “Doctor! Doctor!”

  Dan grabbed her arm. “Aunt Aggie, is everything okay?”

  “She in there having that baby and ain’t no doctor for miles!”

  Dan shot Jill a disbelieving look. “Aunt Aggie, this is a hospital. I’m sure there are doctors around.”

  “Ain’t none where she needs ’em.” She shook loose of Dan’s grasp and started up the hall. “I ain’t got time for you. I gotta go find me a doctor.”

  Dan let her go. Just as she headed up the hall, a nurse came from the other direction. “Uh, nurse,” Dan said. “I think they may need you in that room there.”

  She nodded. “I was going to check on her.”

  Dan stepped back, tense, as Jill came up and stood next to him. They waited, hoping that nothing had gone wrong. Then the nurse came back out.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Just fine,” she said. “She’s progressing nicely. Won’t be long now.”

  “Nicely?” Jill asked. “But Aunt Aggie sounded like the baby was ready to come.”

  “She’s still got a little way to go,” the nurse said. “She’s not exactly having fun in there, but things are going well.”

  “You don’t think you need to call a doctor?”

  The nurse looked up the hall in the direction Aunt Aggie had gone. “The doctor’s on his way. He’ll be here any minute.”


  “Well, I hope you know that if he isn’t, he’s gonna have Aunt Aggie to contend with.”

  The nurse chuckled and headed back to her station.

  Jill relaxed, realizing that Celia was okay. She walked over to the big glass window with all the babies behind it. Dan came up behind her, slipped his arms around her, and nuzzled her neck. “Does this bring back any memories to you?” she asked.

  He lifted his face. “Yeah, this is where you dumped me.”

  She turned around, shocked. “I dumped you? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who gave me that song and dance about how you weren’t the kind of guy who hooks up with one woman very long.”

  He grinned. “You sure didn’t put up a fight.”

  She turned back to the nursery. “Hey, when you’re ready to leave, take off. You won’t see me begging.”

  As he pulled her back against him, she felt him laughing quietly. She turned around again and looked up at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

  He caught her lips unexpectedly and kissed her, right there in front of the glass and all those babies and the nurses that were attending them. Her heart’s rhythm went out of control, and she was glad she was in a hospital.

  When he broke the kiss, she stepped back and looked up at him. She didn’t know what to say. He smiled at the nurses behind the window, gave them a cursory wave, then pulled Jill to an exit door at the end of the hall. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  He settled into the corner of the landing and pulled her against him again. “Somewhere where we won’t be stared at while I kiss you.” Again, he caught her lips, and this time, she settled into the kiss, sliding her hands up around his neck, into his hair. Her heart was beating so fast that she feared it would explode, and she could feel his raging pulse as she touched his neck. They’d been together many times, had even kissed, but something about the declarations of love and the life being born just a few feet away made everything seem a little more urgent.

  They broke the kiss, and Dan’s breath was ragged as he touched her face. His lips hovered over hers as he whispered, “You know we’re going to have to get married, don’t you?”

  Jill looked up at him, startled, but he kissed her eyelids, one at a time. “Married?” she whispered. “Is that some kind of proposal?”

  He brushed his face gently against hers, his own eyes closed as he found her mouth again. When he could speak, he said, “Paul said in the Bible it was better to marry than to burn with passion. The way I figure it, I’d rather be married and burn with passion.”

  Something about that statement made her stomach flutter, and she swallowed and looked up at him, wondering if he was joking, if this was a flippant statement about their getting too close too fast. But as he met her eyes and looked down at her, framing her face with both hands, she realized that he was serious. His eyes began to mist with tears, reflecting her own as she gazed up at him. “I’m serious, Jill,” he whispered. “Marry me. I don’t think I can stand it if you don’t.”

  It took her a moment to find her voice. “But what if the passion fades?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “What if we settle in and get comfortable with each other, and the passion doesn’t seem to burn as bright?”

  He only smiled. “I want to settle in with you, Jill. I want to get comfortable. I want to have babies with you and go to PTA meetings and eat popcorn while we watch movies at night, and sit next to you every time we go to church.”

  One tear rolled out of her eye and traveled down her face.

  “I want to lose my hair and have you pretend it’s still there.”

  Another tear escaped, and she laughed as she wiped it away.

  “I want to look over at you in bed when I’m ninety years old, and still be amazed that you’d hang out with a toothless guy like me. I want to make a covenant with you, Jill. I want to love and protect you and cherish you until the day I die.”

  There was no use wiping the tears away. They were coming too quickly now. He smeared them with his thumb. “Will you, Jill?” he asked. “Will you be my companion and my partner and my helpmeet for the rest of our lives? Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and rose up to slide her arms around him again. “Yes!”

  As he crushed her against him, she wept with all her heart.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Jerry paced the cell back and forth, back and forth, like a wild lion suddenly held captive in the zoo. Occasionally, he went to the bars and banged and yelled, but still no one came. His hands were bruised from banging on the bars, and his voice hoarse from yelling.

  He couldn’t believe this was happening. Frank would be at Pendleton Hospital and have a bomb assembled and planted before Jerry could get anyone to listen to him.

  He took off his shoe and began beating the heel of it against the bars, praying that someone up there would have the intelligence to come back and question him about what had happened. If they would just listen…

  But still no one came.

  Maybe they had caught him, he thought. Maybe he hadn’t gotten far, and he was upstairs right now, being processed before being brought back down. Maybe the doors would open any minute, and Frank would be locked up again.

  Or maybe Pendleton Memorial Hospital was going to be Frank’s next project.

  He started banging again, unable to give up. Eventually, someone had to come for him.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Outside, Larry Hampton pulled his early midlife crisis Camaro into a parking space and sat looking up at the huge, intimidating hospital. He was likely to see people he knew inside, people who knew he had abandoned his family for his secretary. What they didn’t know was that the relationship had ended months ago, and he was now seeing a waitress who worked in the French Quarter. He’d been through three jobs, and now, looking back, he realized how funny it was that he had left his family so he could feel young and free again, but today he’d never felt older in his life.

  He turned his car off, got out, and headed up to the hospital. His little boy was lying upstairs somewhere on life support. The fact that he’d even had to think about coming made him hate himself even more. He didn’t deserve to be the boy’s father. Yet ironically, except for his grandmother and a couple of uncles, he was all Pete had left.

  He went to the information desk, asked for Pete Hampton’s room, and was directed to the third floor. He went to the elevator and waited, then thought better of it. He didn’t want to run into anyone he knew, so he decided to take the stairwell. The door echoed as it closed behind him, and he took the steps two by two.

  He reached the third floor and stepped into the corridor. He looked up and down the hall for the right door number, and saw that Pete was just across from the nurse’s station.

  He slowed his step as he reached the door, dreading the moment of confrontation with his former mother-in-law. He hoped his visit didn’t bring Pete any more pain.

  The door was partially opened, and he pushed it slightly and peeked inside. Thelma, his former mother-in-law, was sitting up in a rocking chair, sound asleep. Good, he thought. That would give him a chance to look at his son, maybe give him a hello hug before she started throwing accusations at him.

  He stepped tentatively inside, and saw the small form of his son lying on the bed beneath a tangle of wires and tubes. He wore a mask, and a tube ran through it into his mouth and down his throat. The ventilator, he thought. It was what was keeping his son alive, yet it looked so invasive, so painful, so alien…

  He stepped closer to the bed and saw how pale and white the child’s face was. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on his cheek as a tear rolled out of his eye. And then he heard the whistling, desperate sound of breaths not quite grasped.

  The ventilator wasn’t doing its job. Startled, Larry grabbed his little boy up from the bed and yelled, “Pete!”

  The child’s eyes opened, frantically, desperately, as he gasped for breath.

  Thelma woke then
, and sprang out of the chair at the sight of his father holding him. “Larry!”

  “He’s not breathing!” he yelled. “Quick, do something! Call the doctor! Something!”

  In seconds, she had the nurses running in. One of them began breathing through the tube to give him air, as the others tried to determine why the ventilator had stopped. When they found the unplugged cord, they all moved into a new degree of frenzy.

  It took several moments for them to get him breathing again, moments during which Larry stayed back against the wall, watching in horror as he realized that someone had unplugged the life support from his child. Suddenly, a fierce protectiveness rose up inside him, and any trepidation he’d had before about being back in his son’s life vanished. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him again.

  When he saw his son breathing again with the tube running down his throat, he crumpled over and began to cry. There was no one there to comfort him. Instead, Thelma and the nurses shot him an occasional accusatory look. But it wasn’t until the police officer came in and announced that Larry was under arrest that he realized they thought he had unplugged the ventilator.

  He shook his head as they clamped the cuffs on his wrists. “I didn’t do it. I came in here and he was gasping for breath.”

  Pete opened his eyes and reached a hand out, beckoning his dad closer to the bed. Tears rolled down his face as he tried to sit up, but he was too weak.

  “Pete, I’ll be back, son,” he said. “I’m your daddy, and don’t you forget you have one. I’ll be back.”

  But Pete couldn’t talk as they escorted Larry from the room.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  As soon as Dan and Jill heard about what had happened to Pete, they came up to the room to see if there was anything they could do for his grandmother. They found her huddled over the bed, trying to make Pete stop crying, but he was distraught, and kept pointing to the door his dad had gone through, motioning for him to come back.