Rats in a Maze




Mark Greene regarded the two men holding automatic rifles against him with a mixture of fear and bewilderment. When the door to the office had swung open, he was not expecting to be viewing the end of a gun. He shared the same anxiety that he saw spread over Peter Benton's face at the realization that they were being held captive while two of their friends were still wandering the hallways.

Were Carter and Dave being held in a similar room, or had they met with some violent encounter? Every second that passed weighed heavily on Mark's mind. They were instructed to remain still and told not to speak. Both he and Peter sat on the couch, jumping at every noise that was heard in the hallway. The gunman standing next to them was watching the door and looked like some reject wrestler. He wasn't very tall, but he was built like a tank. His arms and chest were massive, like he consumed protein shakes on a daily basis. His partner was very tall, with red hair and a beard. He reminded Mark of some pirate at one of those dinner shows. Except this guy never smiled and he kept his weapon pointed at both of them, his arm never wavering.

Benton remained motionless on the couch; he didn't want to give the two gunmen any thing to be nervous about. However, it was hard to keep fear at bay as time seemed to crawl to a stop without a sign from the other two doctors. His patience running thin, he was about to ask his captors if they had done something to Dave and Carter when the door swung open and both men ran in, unaware of the dangerous situation.

Dave had made some stupid remark, but was greeted by the Red bearded gunman with a humorous laugh.

"Please join the party gentlemen, but be wise to move slowly."

Benton watched helplessly as both doctors entered the room, shock evident in their expressions. Dave had a bruise forming under his left eye, and was subconsciously rubbing his shoulder. It was obvious the cocky resident had gotten into an altercation and he wondered where the person was who gave him the black eye. Carter moved in beside him, his was face sweating and he was holding onto his right hand, which was swollen.

Peter winced in sympathy as each step the young man took seemed to reverberate and jolt what were obviously some broken bones in his hand.

The guard with the red beard loomed over Dave as he spoke, "It seems to be that you two had some kind of run in. How did you get that shiner, kid?"

Dave looked up at the gunman and replied sarcastically, "I ran into a door."

Benton was about to yell at the resident for his wisecrack, when the gunman backhanded him hard. Dave's head snapped sideways and the sound of bone hitting flesh echoed in the silent room.

"Don't screw around with me. We were radioed that you were being apprehended and now you show up with signs of a fight and without one of my team members." The gunman smiled, showing two rows of pearly white teeth. "Now, I'll ask you nicely one more time. How did you get the black eye and where is the guy that did it to you?'

Dave wiped his hand against his face to ease his stinging skin and stared at the gunman intently. "That was two questions."

Peter was fuming inside; the resident was toying around with two violent men without regard to the safety of his colleagues. The surgeon was about to jump up and throttle the resident himself when Carter interrupted his angered thoughts.

"Dave, quit acting like a cowboy!" Carter hissed.

The gunman grabbed Dave's sore shoulder and pushed him against the wall that Carter was leaning on. "Dave, Dave, Dave!" He shouted in an almost exuberant manner, and then chuckled. The hulking man shouldered his weapon and placed both hands on either side of the wall beside Dave. He leaned in, not leaving the resident any breathing room.

"Listen to your friend and tell me want I want to know," he growled menacingly. The guard pushed off the wall in one fluid movement, then grabbed Carter's right wrist in his hand.

Carter groaned loudly, and his face contorted in pain when his wrist was twisted one way then another way. He tired to pry the gunman's fingers off as Dave began to protest his rough treatment.

Benton jumped off the couch and the stocky guard brought his rifle butt down on the base of his skull. Pain ripped through his head and he collapsed to the ground, shielding himself with his hands from any repeated blows. His assailant was about to smash his weapon once more on the helpless surgeon, but halted when he heard Dave's protest.

"No, wait!! Stop it!!" Dave beseeched at the barbaric acts of violence. The wrestler looking guard locked eyes with his partner who shook his head. The gunman stood back as Benton collected himself on the ground. Benton saw Mark staring at him with concern, but the surgeon let him know to back off with a look. Benton gritted his teeth from the wooziness he felt, and watched with anger as Carter tried to squirm out of the other gunman's grip of his injured hand.

Dave contiued to plea to the man in front of him to leave Carter alone and started blurting out the chain of events that lead them back to the waiting room. "We fought back and I clobbered the guy with a plaque from the wall and then we ran here. Now come on and lay off everyone." Dave held his hands out in front of him as he communicated with who he thought was the leader.

"Laying off now," Red beard replied as he let go of Carter's wrist.

Carter let out a sigh of relief and painfully wrapped his fingers around his wrist. His vision had threatened to black out on him, and he had bitten his lip so hard that it was slowly bleeding. He stumbled over to a chair and rested his body over the armrest. His breathing was coming in short bursts as he tried to tolerate the amount of pain emanating from his hand.

"So, my partner is still alive, I take it?" Red beard asked, not phased by the pain he had inflicted.

"Yeah, but he needs medical help. I hit him really hard, he could have a concussion or a skull fracture." Dave replied, sounding more concerned than he felt.

Red beard's eyes narrowed, "Well, I guess we're lucky to be in the company of doctors, aren't we?"

The gunman turned and regarded the scene before him. After surveying the room he locked eyes with his partner, "Go with the smart-alleck and the black guy to help Murphy. The Colonel doesn't like his men to go down, so make sure they don't try anything. Maintain radio silence. When the signal is given, I'll update the rest of the team of our situation."

"Are you going to kill the other two?" The gunman asked his partner.

"We'll wait for instructions," was Red beard's reply.

The stocky gunman pointed his weapon at Benton and the surgeon slowly stood. He gave Dave a fiery glare and repugnantly followed the younger man out into the hall. The guard with the red beard tapped Benton's shoulder and spoke to him in an emotionless voice, "You do one stupid thing and I'll make sure you hear both of your co-worker's screams from anywhere in the building. You understand?"

Peter nodded his head in serious awareness. The surgeon headed out the door and spoke to Mark, "Try to immobilize his hand," he said referring to Carter.

The attending stood to respond, but his co-workers were out of sight as the red bearded guard shut the door, cutting off any response.

Xxxx

Dave headed back towards the room where he and Carter had been assaulted while trying to formulate a plan to get everyone out of the mess they were in. Murphy, the man they had encountered earlier, was probably still unconscious. He had lied about the skull fracture, hoping that if both gunmen had been separated, that at least it gave one of them a chance to escape. What he had not forgotten was that the security cameras were still watching their movements, and he had no idea if there was still yet another bad guy observing everything.

Dave could feel the anger that was being sent his way from Benton's direction, he just hoped that if an opportunity arose, that the surgeon wouldn't be too pre-occupied with anger to help.

"Stop right there," the stocky gunman ordered.

Dave and Benton froze in their steps as the gunman stepped in front of them. He kept his rifle aimed at both doctors as he used his side to push the door open, never taking his eyes off his captives.

"Hey Murphy, you all right in there?" He called out.

There was no response in the room and the gunman pushed the door all the way open with his back. "After you two," he said, signaling with his automatic for the two doctors to enter before him.

Both men walked into the room and Benton slowly made his way to the fallen man on the floor. With obvious dismay he bent down to feel the side of the man's neck and looked back at his captor, "He's alive, with a slow pulse."

"That's a start, now how about reviving him," the gunman sneered. "And you," the muscled man pointed at Dave, "Help your buddy out."

Dave did what he was told, even though every instinct told him to find a way of the room. He squatted near the surgeon, who avoided eye contact with him, and began to probe the unconscious man's skull.

The gunman walked fully into the room, the door automatically closing shut behind him. The stocky man carefully observed every movement the doctors made, to make sure they were treating his comrade properly. He was intent on the movements in front of him, that he did not see the shadow from behind the door move, nor did he feel the needle that entered into the side of his neck.

Xxxxx

When other guard had left the room, Mark decided it was time to try to speak with the person holding him and Carter hostage. He didn't dare say anything earlier, when tempers were flaring and he had to deal with both Peter and Dave. The attending reasoned that the gunman in the room was one of the leaders and maybe he could find out was happening in this center.

However, first things first. "I'm going to look at my friend's injury. I'm not going to try to run away or anything," Mark said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"You don't pose much of a threat, Dr..." Red beard eyed him, awaiting a response.

"Dr. Greene", he replied as he walked over to where Carter was sitting on the chair. Not wanting to break any meaningfully communication, Mark dared to ask the same question. "Um, what do I call you?" He asked, as he knelt on the floor.

The gunman laughed, "I don't thing there will be any reason for you to talk to me, but I'll humor you. If you need to scream my name for any reason, you will address me as L.T." The large man sat across from both doctors and his posture indicated that the conversation was over.

Carter half listened to the discussion as he tried to understand why it was that his world decided to spiral out of control once again. First patients wielding knifes and now insane terrorists, his grandmother would probably lock him up in the mansion for his own safety. This time three of his friends were now involved, and Carter wondered if they all made it out in one piece, how he could ever work with any of them again?

He opened his eyes as he felt Mark beside him, intent on some kind examination. He sighed heavily and methodically tried to release the tension in his right hand. "I'm sorry about this, Mark."

Mark looked up at the younger man sharply, caught off guard by the apology. "Carter, this is none of your doing, so don't waste your breath. We'll be out of here soon enough; meanwhile, let's see what we can do here." Mark looked at his friend through his glasses, giving him one of his encouraging expressions that he used so many times in the past. They always seemed to have a positive effect when dealing with Carter as a student. He hoped his powers of persuasion still worked in crisis situations.

"I think there are several metacarpal fractures, I don't have very much flexation in the ring or little fingers."

Mark glanced up from examining his friend's hand, and smiled to himself. Maybe he still had it in him to cast off blame, as Carter began to focus on his medical situation.

The attending gently moved each finger latterly, noting two of the bones in his fingers at abnormal positionings. "I think you're right, but I can't tell the extent without x-rays or radial pulsations."

Carter kept from crying out as each finger was bent as much as possible to determine the extent of the fractures. Carter's hand had swollen so much that he couldn't see the bones anymore. There was some deep busing forming, and he hoped that there wasn't any nerve damage.

"There aren't any lacerations to the palm or dorsal surfaces, that's good...maybe." Carter said in a more doubtful tone.

Mark held on to Carter's wrist and spoke to him in a confident voice, "That is good, it means there might not be any serious tendon injury."

Carter chuckled, "Yeah, you're right. Now all we need to do is find some Ancef for infection prophylaxis."

Mark didn't have anything to say to that statement,and in his heart he knew it could be a problem if they were held here for a long time. For right now, all he wanted was to keep the hand immobile, but as he glanced around the room, he knew he wouldn't be able to find anything of usefulness.

"What's wrong? Can't he stand a few broken bones?" L.T asked sarcastically.

Mark was about to reply when he felt Carter's foot tap his leg to gain his attention. Mark glanced at his co-worker with curiosity, and the younger man tried to relay some kind of message to him. The older doctor wasn't sure what his friend was trying to tell him, but Carter glared at him with seriousness then stared at his hand for emphasis.

Mark swallowed hard, hoping he interrupted the signal correctly for all the good he thought it would do. "Dr. Carter, has several serious hand fractures and if left untreated he could suffer from Cellulites or Osteomyelitis." Mark relayed in a more dramatic tone. He locked eyes with Carter, who nodded encouragement.

Mark shot him a puzzled look, but acknowledged he understood.

"So what? And speak English." L.T. ordered.

"If the hand does not get treated then Cellulites can set in, an infection in the tissue which could lead to Osteomyelitis which is a painful infection in the bone. If he doesn't get antibiotics very soon, then an infection could kill him." Mark was exaggerating, but in the end, if left untreated,it was true.

"That's too bad," L.T. expressed in a mockful tone.

Despite his need to be to remain cool, Mark was unable to control his anger. "Really? Seems like you're not suppose to do anything without your boss's approval. What if he doesn't like the fact that you killed one of us, huh?"

L.T. stood up abruptly, "The Colonel doesn't care what we do with you!" The gunman shouted.

"So that's why you haven't done anything without speaking with him? Can you take the chance that he might not be pleased with the way you've treated your hostages?" Mark hollered at him.

There it was, the reaction both men had been hoping for. The burly man flinched, ever so slightly. Mark could see some doubt filter through the gunman's eyes. He was thinking and the attending could tell he was unnerved. Mark heard the chair creak behind him and he saw Carter watching L.T. as well. Both doctors shared a look and the older doctor could tell that whatever Carter had intended it was working. Now if only Mark could figure out his friend's plans before he messed them up.

Xxxx

"Jesus man," Dave said under his breath as the wrestler-like gunman fell over. Right behind him was Dr. Ebright, breathing heavily and holding a syringe.

Peter glanced down at the man he was examining, and satisfied that he was still out, stood next to Dave.

"What the hell is going on?" The surgeon growled.

Dr. Ebright kicked the burly man slightly and looked at both men, "You're welcome. Now follow me, unless you want to wait for more company," she said, miffed.

"No, where the Hell were you and what the f..."

Jill marched up to the surgeon, her eyes blazing, "Listen here, Dr. Benton. I left to go find a colleague of mine unconscious. I go looking for help or security and find all the phone lines dead, and a bunch of thugs running around in my facility. If I wasn't lucky enough to have all the passkeys, I wouldn't have been able to elude all of them. Now, you can come with me, or you can stay here for who knows what."

Dave got between the arguing doctors, "Hold on a second. Drs. Greene and Carter are still down the hall. We need to get them."

"Just what do you think you're going to do? Waltz in and ask nicely to be let out?" Jill challenged.

"We can't leave them there." Peter said in a tone that indicated that he would not be persuaded otherwise.

"I have over fifty patients upstairs who are in just as much danger. I can't get out of here if I wanted to since they are in control of all the security."

"Who are they?" Dave ventured to ask.

"I have no clue. But, I can get us through these levels without being detected and, maybe with your help, contact the authorities."

Benton stared at the door leading to the hallway. Jill followed his gaze and softened her stance. "I came through the other door. It leads to another hallway and upstairs."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Dave asked flabbergasted. He was appalled at the thought that they would be leaving Carter and Mark in the hands of some crazy military guy.

"We can't help your friends right now, but maybe we can find someone who can." Jill rubbed her head out of frustration. "I don't want to leave them there either. I'm resourceful," the female doctor held out the empty syringe. "But, I'm not that resourceful," She conceded.

Dave felt the bile churning in his stomach; it was like they were caught up in some horrible movie. The chances of them moving around the building without being shot were slim, but he knew they had no way of over powering the other gunman. They had simply been lucky so far. He looked over at Benton to see his conflicted face.

"We may not have a choice, Dr. Benton." Dave said, his voice regretful.

The surgeon looked to the ceiling and tapped his thumb to his lips. "We'll go with you to help our friends."

Jill nodded her head and looked down at her disheveled appearance. Her blouse was unbuttoned and there were smudges all over her clothes. Her hose had runs in them and one of her shoes was missing a heel.

Dave noticed her worn out exterior, "Seems you've been hiding in a lot of dirty places. You lead the way."

Jill smoothed out her blouse and flipped off both of her shoes. Without the high heeled designer apparel, she was very short. She sighed heavily and went to the opposite door. She typed in a code on the keypad and waited for a beep. "This hallway is for employees, no cameras."

Dave looked at Peter, and quickly followed Dr. Ebright out of the room. Peter remained where he was for a few moments, then slowly followed the other two into the hallway.

Peter Benton stopped for a moment and stared at the two unconscious gunmen. He couldn't keep similar violent images from his head, except this time it was his two co-workers. He bit down on his lip, "I won't let the same thing happen," he said to nobody.

Peter disappeared down the hallway with the door firmly closed behind him.



Part 6
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