Chapter 19: The Night Shift

It was nearly midnight. The hospital was silent except for the noises typical of such an institution. Occasionally, a nurse or a doctor scurried along the corridors. Robin was deadly tired. Her eyelids were as heavy as lead. She drank some coffee and massaged her temples, then prepared to turn on her computer. Suddenly, she heard a noise that startled her. A car had screeched to a stop. Robin paced to the window and looked out. The driver's door opened, and a brawny man got out of the car. He staggered to the entrance. His jeans were smeared with something dark. Robin wondered if it was blood and hurried toward the entrance. As she got there, the man was already seated on a wheelchair. A nurse was talking to him. He just stared madly at her. His jeans were torn and smudged with blood under his left knee. Robin drew closer. He looked at her and leered. The smell of booze wafted from him. The nurse pushed the wheelchair down the corridor. Robin followed her. As they helped him lie on the examining table, Robin suspected that the man was not only drunk but also stoned. She cut his jeans skillfully, then examined the wound. It was superficial. The man burped, smirking nastily. Robin started to clean the wound. He cursed and grabbed her wrist.

"Come here, cutie!" he said, and drew her towards him.

"Let go of my hand or I will call security!" Robin said flatly.

"You don't know who I am," the drunk slurred.

A man dressed in a blue uniform stepped in, placing his hand on the holster.

"OK, OK. I am just kidding."

As he let go of her wrist, Robin continued to clean the wound. Suddenly, the drunk took out a gun and leveled it at the guard. Robin reached out for the weapon. Too late. The drunk fired. The explosion was deafening. The nurse gave out a shrill scream and fled out of the room. Robin gazed with awe at the guard. He bent down his head as if trying to examine the hole in his uniform. Then he coughed and collapsed on the tiled floor. Robin kneeled beside him, pressing her hand on the wound. The guard's eyes were glazed. There was blood on the corner of his mouth.

"You are coming with me, belle!" the drunk said and stood up.

He pressed the hot muzzle on Robin's back and shoved her toward the door. Robin sprawled on the floor.

"I have to help him. He is dying," she said.

"Get up! Hurry!"

After she stood up, he pushed her out of the room, then down the corridor to the entrance.

"You drive!" he said and pushed her rudely into the car.

"You are making a great mistake," Robin said.

"Go, go!" he cried, then slapped her.

Robin ignited the engine and drove away. The streets were deserted. Lounging in the passenger seat, the man leered at her. He tapped the gun on the dashboard then looked back nervously.

"No one is following us. You can let me go now."

"I have different plans, dear."

He placed his hand on her knee, then moved it slowly up her thigh.

"Bastard..."

"Don't slow! Don't slow or I will shoot you!" the man cried angrily.

Robin felt his fingers digging into her flesh. His nails tore the black stocking and scratched her thigh. She cursed. After a brief moment of hesitation, she turned to the left. The car lurched. The man growled as he saw that the car was going to crash into a parked truck. He let go of Robin's leg and lifted his hands to protect himself. Robin put on the brake, and then swerved to the right to avoid the collision. The car was still in motion when she opened the door and jumped out. She fell heavily on her side and rolled over a couple of times.