Chicago Med fic: Resolution (6/7)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
-o-
The moment of hesitation was necessarily fleeting. Once Will made the call, there was no turning back. Dr. Dunst showed no signs of trepidation, despite the fact that she had just willingly charged into a veritable battlefield. That said a lot about her.
The fact that he was still willingly following, precisely according to protocol, probably said something about him, too. He would have to consider that when he got out of here.
If he got out of here.
Sparing no time for drama, Dr. Dunst directed them back toward the ED entrance. She moved with purpose, but she kept her pace guarded and precise, doing the final check of every room and closet as they made the sweep back. As they approached, Dr. Dunst intuitively drew them down, slowing their pace substantially and seeking natural spot of cover as they moved forward.
Finally, when they could go no farther, Dr. Dunst drew to a stop behind the central desk of the administration area, out of any line of sight while still maintaining some visibility of their surroundings.
“How many attackers did you see?” Dr. Dunst asked, keeping herself low while trying to get an eyeline on the lobby. She was barely whispering now, but her voice still conveyed her utter purpose.
“Honestly, I was a little more preoccupied with keeping track of our people,” Will said, just as hushed. “I didn’t stick around for a good look.”
She nodded, eyes straining to see better. “Reports suggested that the militia in question numbered in the hundreds.”
Will gawked at her, feeling his heart fall into his stomach. If he didn’t die here, Jay was going to kill him for sure. “Hundreds?”
Dr. Dunst appeared much less bothered by these numbers than Will. “Forces are broken down into smaller divisions,” she clarified. “The last security briefing I had before locking down my office suggested two dozen men to take the hospital.”
Will peered wearily over the wall. “Looks like they got the lobby,” he said with regret. “It’s hard to make out, but I don’t see any security personnel still standing.”
Dr. Dunst seemed to purse her lips in agreement, even as she continued to assess the situation. “No reinforcements were directed to the lobby.”
Will’s surprise was more personal this time. “Why not?”
She looked back at him. “You know how sometimes we sacrifice a single limb in an attempt to save the body, Dr. Halstead?”
He hesitated, not wanting to answer. “Yeah--”
She inclined her head. “The ED was always going to be lost,” she said. “The majority of the policy was designed to give the hospital sufficient time to evacuate.”
That was a little bit hard to hear, and Will understood their conversation in her office with a bit more clarity now. She hadn’t been asking him to protect the ED. She had been asking him to give up the ED -- himself included, if necessary.
It seemed cold and calculating, but she was right here with him. She wasn’t asking him to do anything she wouldn’t do herself. No, she was giving him her trust.
That realization was sudden and enlightening. All these months he’d toiled under her supervision, desperate for any sign of approval. And here he’d gotten it, in the most potent way possible. It was a monumental achievement, he felt. If only it didn’t have to come with monumental risk.
He might not live to tell this story.
“So, I know why I came back to sweep the floor,” Will said, shifting his position while keeping his profile below the line of sight. “But what about you?”
It was a good question, and she knew it. She looked back at him, and the composure he usually saw was replaced by something a little more desperate. She was a woman who knew what she had to do, but she wasn’t devoid of emotion. In her certainty, Will saw the first and only signs of fear he’d ever sensed from her.
“Dr. Halstead, the fallback plans are not as foolproof as policy would have you believe,” she said. “The city is in a tenuous position, and if this facility is ceded, then it is only a matter of time before the entire block is taken. Our people and the patients entrusted to us are not safe yet. We still need to buy more time to ensure their safety.”
Will was feeling positively ill now. “Back up is coming?”
She nodded. “Enroute, but it will take time,” she said. “Officially, my orders come from the very top of our organization.”
He swallowed, asking the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to. “And?”
“And I am to hold this ED for as long as I can,” she told him.
“No matter what?” he asked hoarsely.
Dr. Dunst, however, did not flinch. “No matter what.”
-o-
When most people said, no matter what, they didn’t really mean it. How could they? As if any one person could possibly envision what that means. No matter what? It was too wide, too vague, too everything.
But Will had pledged himself to this place. He had promised himself to this organization. And he had committed himself to this one woman.
He started it.
He would finish it.
No.
Matter.
What.
Even if it meant walking into a hostile takeover with a terrorist cell while fully unarmed and no backup.
He could hear Jay practically having a conniption fit at the very thought of it. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was the right thing to do.
And, mostly, it was protocol.
Carefully, Dr. Dunst led them through the corridors. When they reached the blockade, she came out with her hands up, not bothering to hesitate. Will immediately followed suit, rising just in time to see a swarm of guns come his way while men started yelling.
Dr. Dunst held painfully still, and it was all of Will’s self control to follow her lead.
“We are doctors -- we’re unarmed,” Dr. Dunst explained on repeat, even as two men dragged them out at gunpoint and two more started to pat them down with such force that Will had to struggle to keep his balance.
The men spoke in one of the native dialects, exchanging dialogue so fast that Will couldn’t keep up with their words. Their tone, however, was pretty easy to follow.
They were pushed forward again, and Will staggered along. The area was strewn with bodies -- some from the terrorists, some from security forces. Will recognized some of them, and the doctor in him wanted to check, but that really wasn’t an option as he was brought to a stop again and turned abruptly to face a new group of men.
Will didn’t have time to figure out who they were before more voices rose at him and a gun was directed at his face. Next to him, he heard Dr. Dunst swear with an uncharacteristic loss of composure, and Will kept his hands up and clear in a last ditch attempt to prove that he really wasn’t any kind of threat.
The gun waved in his face, and someone yelled at him loud enough for his ears to hurt. It was meant to be intimidating, most likely. In truth, it probably was. But Will was so far past fear now, and the surreal rush of emotions was too fast, too furious to hold onto. Ultimately, this wasn’t about anything except his responsibility. He was just here to do his job.
“Look, I’m here with my hands up,” he said, keeping his hands spread above his head. “What more do you want?”
That was a question that finally got an answer.
The gun dropped slightly, directed at his chest no. “Contact the government!” the man holding the gun said in sharp, staccato English. “Tell them we have terms!”
It was Dr. Dunst who replied, calm and even once more. “We understand why that is something you want, but you have to understand our position here. We are doctors. This is a private hospital that does not use government funds. We are not government employees. We would have no idea who to contact to fulfill your request.”
They were in a circle of armed men now, guns in all directions. But the man training the gun on Will turned it to Dr. Dunst now as he glared down the barrel with clear vitriol. “Are you in charge?” he asked.
Dr. Dunst nodded without hesitation. “Yes, this is my hospital,” she said. “The decisions regarding its facility, people and patients belong to me.”
The man’s nose wrinkled with a sneering smile. “Then I think the government will answer your call, yes? I think they will talk to you.”
“We’re not going to make that call,” Will said, interjecting himself back into the conversation now. The gun wavered between the two of them. “You know we can’t do that.”
“I know that you probably have policies and procedures,” he said. “But I also know that those things are meaningless when the gun is to your head.”
To prove his point, the man raised the gun again, letting it sit dangerously close to Will’s forehead.
“Do you understand your position yet, Doctors?” the man asked.
Gun or no gun, Will focused on his breathing. The stakes were still the same as they had always been. He’d started this; he would finish it.
“We do understand the position,” Dr. Dunst said. “Which is why we will not comply.”
“You must call your bosses then!” the man said. “Your network, your board -- whoever! Call someone with more power than you to give me the negotiating power I need.”
Will snorted despite himself, the incredulity giving him away. “No way--”
He was cut off with an abrupt jerk of the gun, hard against his temple. Pain erupted in his head, and his vision went momentarily white.
“Fine!” the man said disdainfully. The gun was still hovering somewhere near Will’s nose now. “Then, open up the rest of the hospital. I want full control, and I will make the calls myself when I have it.”
“There’s no way either of us are going that,” Will said, the recitation of hospital policy almost rote for him by now.
Rote for him; frustrating for terrorists. The man loomed larger, and the group around them tittered anxiously. “Tell me, then, what is stopping me from killing you both, right here where you stand, and taking the keys from you.”
Will wasn’t the only one with a blind loyalty for policy at the moment. Dr. Dunst was plaintive. “The door is coded. The keys are not enough. Now that we are in full lockdown mode, you will need a password.”
“Or a tank,” Will said, not sure if that addition was helpful as these men might have a tank somewhere. “The doors are reinforced for events just like this.”
He knew that. Because he’d read all the protocols and the safety manuals. Maybe he was exaggerating about the tank, but hyperbole wasn’t his real problem at the moment.
The look of sheer hatred on the man’s face, however, was a more pressing concern. “I could burn it down,” he said vehemently, eyes sparking with anger. “Enough explosive -- just blow it up.”
“You do that and you lose all your leverage,” Will said, and he shook his head, the gun on him notwithstanding. Dr. Dunst was watching him, and he knew he was supposed to take her cue, but he knew what he had to do here. “Killing everyone is an invitation to get wiped out. You get a moment in the spotlight, but it won’t pay any dividends and only invite more attacks. You came here for hostages. A hospital full of sick people? Makes you the villain.”
The man narrows his eyes. “And what do you think you can offer me instead?”
Next to him, Dr. Dunst had gone very still, but Will didn’t trust himself to look at her. “What you need most,” Will said. “I mean, I get it. You need a high profile grab, and so you go after a hospital. But you need this moment to last, you need human collateral. Hostages. But you don’t need the whole hospital. You just need the right hostages. And I’m an attending, the head of the ED. You know by now that I’m an American. You’re not going to get a better hostage than me if you’re going for real bang for your buck. Leave the hospital alone -- keep the violence to this ED, and I’ll stay willingly, do whatever you want.”
The man seemed to consider this, his gun dipping down momentarily. Then, he bobbed his head to the side, jerking the gun toward Dr. Dunst. “I will take you, yes,” he said. “And her.”
Will’s eyes widened, and he looked to the side. Dr. Dunst was standing stock still and stony face as Will shook his head. “No, just me. That’s all you need.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said. “She is the head of the hospital. You work for her, which means she is the more valuable target. But I do like the idea of you being an American. You two stay, and we will not bother the others.”
“No--” Will started to protest, but Dr. Dunst locked her eyes on him.
“Yes,” she said over him, her voice stronger and more certain than his. “That is an acceptable deal.”
Will’s mouth dropped open, but she gave him a hard, pointed glare, and he knew better than to argue.
The man’s mouth twisted up into a sneer. “Then come with me--”
But Dr. Dunst didn’t move. “You will first let us finish our sweep of the ED, make sure that it is clear of additional personnel.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate--”
“You are free to come with us, if you like,” Dr. Dunst said, and she held her chin up higher. “Show us that you are good to your word.”
The man leaned forward, jabbing his gun toward her once more. “This deal of ours is at my convenience, not yours.”
Dr. Dunst gave a no-nonsense shrug. “Then you best ought to shoot us now, for all the good we will do you.”
Will’s eyes widened as the gun came to bear on him once more.
“You think I won’t do it?” the man seethed.
“I know you will, as you have shown your acceptance for such violence all along,” she said. “But I also know you probably think of yourself as a righteous man, as most men do. You surely don’t kill without reason, or we would be dead already. There is a plan here, and we can aid you or leave you to it. I believe in sensible leadership, so the real question is, do you?”
The man looked anxiously behind him, where more of his brothers in arms were still working on patrolling the area and discussing their next move.
“Yes, and if you do this decisively, you might even impress them,” Dr. Dunst said tersely. “Before you all compare body counts, perhaps you can compare factors that actually relate to success such as press coverage, monetary incentive and the moral high ground. That last one is a bit of a farce, but I suppose it is a matter of perspective.”
The man’s jaw went rock hard, and he prodding Will with the gun before jerking his head at Dr. Dunst. “Then, let’s go,” he said. “I will stay with you, make sure you are not lying. And don’t even think about doing something stupid.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Dr. Dunst said, sounding bored as she turned, Will following a step behind her. “You’ll shoot us?”
The gun jabbed into Will’s back, and he stumbled a step forward. “Do you have to give him any more ideas?” he muttered to her.
“There are two modes to take here: murder or negotiation,” she said back in a low voice as they started to pass through the nurse’s desk. “He wants to negotiate, which means we are not as powerless as we seem.”
Will huffed a small, breathless laugh. “You seem pretty confident about that. But I’m pretty sure all of this is against protocol.”
“All of this was your idea,” she shot back, voice low as they went into the first exam room, the new friend and his small entourage swarming ahead of them to make sure there was no threat. “And though it is an unorthodox approach, it does exactly what I told you to do. It is designed to protect the ED.”
“You were supposed to get out,” Will hissed back, and they were on their way to the next exam room while the men barked at each other in another language.
“Do not be ridiculous,” she said sharply, even as she kept her voice under her breath as they inspected the next room. “This is my hospital, and you think I would entrust it to you?”
Will wasn’t sure why -- in a day filled with horrible and painful things -- that particular comment hurt so much. Maybe because he wasn’t so foolish as to think he could control terrorists, but he’d come to hold out hope that he might be able to earn his boss’s respect.
“My apologies, then,” he said, nodding forward to let her lead. “Next time I won’t be so presumptuous.”
She pursed her lips with a hard look at him. Then, she huffed, and led the way to the next room.
-o-
Conducting the rest of the sweep had been a technicality -- and it had been mostly a facet to drag things out. They were operating in an increasingly gray area. While the objective was to slow down the terrorists’ advancement, the precise way to do so was not well defined.
In fact, it was not defined at all.
You didn’t put negotiation with terrorists in the policy handbook.
At this point, all of their options were increasingly bad options, and now that they had confirmed, yet again, that the ED was empty, it was time to enter phase two of the operation.
That would be all well and good if Will had any actual idea what phase two entailed.
Or, you know, had some say in things.
But Will was second here to Dr. Dunst.
And she wasn’t the one wielding the heavy weaponry here.
For all her bravado and confidence, Will was all too aware how precarious their position was. The last time he’d negotiated with men toting guns, he’d at least been able to build up some rapport. These particular terrorists seemed a bit more on point. In other words, their patience for hostages was limited and purposeful.
Dr. Dunst had her strategy for the terrorists, trying to use them as best she could to her ends.
The terrorists also had an end in mind.
After the sweep, they were promptly patted down once more before forcibly turned and bound with zipties, hands behind their backs. Then, a gag was shoved in his mouth, tied roughly around the back of his head. Side by side, he was marched into the waiting room, which was now serving as an assembly spot for the terrorists. Unceremoniously, they were shoved to their knees, guns jabbing into the back of their heads as if they didn’t get the point already.
Will did get the point, though. Will got it very well. He knew why he was here, at least. He knew the choices he’d made to get here. He knew the protocols, and he knew the reasons for the protocols.
That didn’t take the edge off the fear he was feeling, but it put it in context.
Besides, what was fear going to give him now?
The hollow pit in his stomach, the frantic thump-thump-thump of his heart. Sweaty palms, blood rushing to his head. His thoughts strung together rapidly, and he struggled to hold onto them as the emotions ebbed and flowed.
Someone turned on a light -- a bright one -- and then another one was brought into view. The glare was blinding, and Will tried to squint away, but the gunman behind him jabbed the gun at him again and Will resisted the urge to move. He could still make out Dr. Dunst’s figure next to him, but the blur of other movement was increasingly difficult to track. There was a bustling and yelling, then, the room descended into silence.
Will’s eyes adjusted a little -- just enough to see beyond the lights. The crowd of men, still armed. One of them was holding a video camera.
And a voice from behind his head, reciting something. Not a litany, but like he was reading something. The language wasn’t one Will knew, not even bits and pieces, but as he blinked into the light, he still understood what was going on.
This was a hostage video.
In the long list of stupid things in Will’s life, this one was pretty remarkable. Somehow, in all his efforts to do the right thing, he had ended up here, held hostage by terrorists. They were going to use his image to score media points, and it was his life that they wanted to barter with to gain standing.
Will was a doctor, not a soldier.
What was he even doing here?
What would Jay say?
Back in Chicago, Jay would have no idea yet. He was going about his day, getting ready for work. He didn’t know; Will wished he never had to know.
And all of the people he’d left behind were moving on. Maggie was running the ED down at Med. April was knee deep in her studies. Ethan was back at work, getting down to business. Ms. Goodwin was overseeing things from her all-seeing perch at the top of the Med food chain. Somewhere, in Seattle, Natalie was kissing Owen as she dropped him off at her mother’s house, going to work, just another day at the office.
It hardly computed; Will didn’t know how to put the pieces together to form a coherent story anymore. He’d made so many mistakes, and he’d worked so hard to right them. He’d been doing the right thing now. He’d been making amends.
Was this how it ended, then?
Was this was absolution looked like?
Was his account finally being called due?
Was this a necessary sacrifice? Was this a noble acceptance?
Or was this just as stupid as everything else?
As suddenly as it started, the recording stopped. The lights were switched off, and the chatter started up again. Will was yanked to his feet, and next to him, Dr. Dunst was dragged up next to him. He caught sight of her face, and somehow, she managed to make a terrorist takeover look like another day in the office.
He was jealous of her for a second. It wasn’t a question of fortitude. It was a question of certainty. She had utter confidence in herself and each decision she made. Will, even after all this, was just as uncertain as he had been when he made the choice to leave Chicago.
It never got better.
It just kept getting harder and harder.
Would it ever make sense? Would he ever get it right? Would he even get a chance to find out?
At this point, that last question was the most pressing one. His existential crisis was an ongoing issue, but the fact that he was currently a frontline hostage for a terrorist cell was probably the more important thing to focus on at the moment.
He tried to keep his feet moving as he was dragged back through the crowd of armed men. Dr. Dunst was marched a few steps ahead of him, and they were taken back into the more secluded ED area. Several men were patrolling the area now, and the guards with them took them to an exam room. Here, there zipties were cut and the gags were removed.
Then, he was shoved forward into the room, hard enough that he nearly lost his balance and had to catch himself on the exam bed. Dr. Dunst followed suit with much less fluster.
The man did not look particularly pleased at the moment. Two guards flanked him, and he sighed. “Do not give me reason to tie you up again,” he said. “If you do, I will not bother with zipties. I will solve the problem by putting a bullet in your head.”
“That’s not a very effective bargaining tactic,” Dr. Dunst said.
Will stared at her, moderately incredulous. She seemed to have forgotten that they were being held at gunpoint in their own ED.
The man smiled faintly. “The stakes are much higher than the two of you,” he said. “Do not overestimate your position here. The value you offer us hangs by threads.”
That seemed perfectly ominous, and Will shrank back farther as the man shut the door behind him, notably leaving the two guards at the front. Dr. Dunst pursed her lips, as if the entire situation was an annoying inconvenience to her.
Feeling a little sick, Will sank down to the exam bed behind him, perching on the end of it as he tried to get his thoughts together. They had patted him down, but they hadn’t taken his phone. He got it out of his pocket, checking it in futility. There was no connection.
He put it away, and shook his head. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. Jay was going to kill him -- if the terrorists didn’t do it first.
In front of him, Dr. Dunst was pacing. There was no anxiety in her stance, however. She just seemed expectant.
Expectant of what, Will wasn’t sure. Either she was utterly resolved that this was going to work out -- or she was really that fearless in the face of death.
She wasn’t stupid enough to think things would magically work out on their own.
Will wasn’t sure where he fell on the spectrum. He was probably too tied up in shock and denial to really grapple with much else.
“You have done well,” Dr. Dunst told him, casting a glance his way. She kept pacing, but her nod was reaffirming.
Will made a face at her. “I haven’t done anything,” he said. “All we’ve done is let them push us around.”
She stopped, looking at him with concern. “We have secured this ED. We have bought precious time. We have followed the plan.”
Will snorted despite himself. He liked to use all deference around Dr. Dunst, but the situation was wearing his resolve thin. “This is the plan? It kind of feels like a terrible plan.”
And Will would know, after all. He was the master of terrible plans. He had come up with many to his own detriment time and again.
Giving yourself up to terrorists seemed to be up there with allowing your ex-fiancee to steal your trial medications to give to her mother.
They were both stupid, but one was just a little bit more ethically questionable.
She stepped closer, even more disconcerted. “I told you. These are our orders.”
Will inhaled, feeling ragged. “Sure, but do you know for sure the orders are going to work out? I mean, we’re putting a lot of faith into those orders right about now.”
“Dr. Halstead, you are letting your emotions get the better of you--”
“Um, yeah!” Will said, his voice raising somewhat. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re hostages.”
“Which is what we knew would happen. I was not vague about this. I never misled you or equivocated,” she said.
Will sighed, shaking his head again. “I know, I know. Just -- I don’t want to die here. I have a brother back home, and he’s going to be so pissed if I don’t come back.”
“It is normal to fear for your life, perhaps,” she said, coming another step closer. “But you must keep perspective. You cannot lose sight of what you knew when you started this.”
“Which is what, exactly?” he asked, feeling bereft.
“That we have a plan,” she said. “That the things we do are for a reason. Look, Dr. Halstead. No matter what our circumstances seem, we have been successful in what we set out to do.”
“I thought backup was coming,” Will blurted, the frustration too much now. “I thought we had an out.”
“And we do,” she said. Her eyes brightened, and she tipped her head to the side as she fell quiet for a moment. “Listen.”
Listen to what, Will wasn’t sure at first. It was hard to distinguish much over the sound of his own heart -- and the continuing ruckus outside the doors. But then, he heard something different, a distant sound, low and rumbling.
Will tried to place it, but he was coming up short. “Is that thunder?” was all he could think to ask.
She looked far too pleased with herself. “No, that is the backup,” she said, because she knew somehow.
She knew.
She’d known all along.
No doubt, all confidence. She had been planning this all along, and she had never thought twice about it not coming to fruition. That kind of certainty, that kind of unwavering belief -- Will might have understood it once. Now, he found himself wondering how to get it back.
The idea of self realization still mattered. It was largely why he’d come to Africa in the first place.
It just didn’t matter now.
“Backup?” Will asked, pressing the more practical issue. He looked back behind him, swallowing anxiously. “What kind of backup are we getting?”
She remained low and did not move from her position, but her eyes lifted with obvious interest. “The kind we need,” she said as the rumbling continued to approach. “Full military support.”
It was said with a surprisingly calm demeanor, and Will wasn’t sure how she was pulling it off. He could hear the sound growing louder as it started to vibrate in his chest, and his heart was starting to pound right along with it. Full military support meant full military intervention. He dropped down lower, leaning closer to Dr. Dunst and out of the eyeline of the guard still patrolling outside. “Are you serious?” he hissed. “This whole place is about to become a warzone.”
He was losing control over his emotions, but Dr. Dunst remained impeccably calm. “Yes, a warzone without collateral damage. Everyone else has been evacuated. Our staff, our patients -- they are safe, thanks to our efforts here. We have done our job.”
She was right, of course. Everyone else had been evacuated. Will had stepped up and done his job, even in the face of the impossible and terrifying.
Yet, she was wrong, too. There was still collateral damage, and Will tried not to think about Jay getting a call from the state department, telling him that Will had died.
He shook the thought away, glaring at Dr. Dunst instead. “But what about us? Do you really think they’re just going to leave us in here when they realize what’s happening? And even if they do leave us alone, how is the military going to know that there are two civilians in here? We are about to become collateral damage!”
By the look on her face, this was not something she had fully considered. It was also something she clearly did not fully care about. “That consideration was not relevant at the time,” she concluded, as if that was that.
That was not that. “Sure, at the time,” Will conceded with a grunt. “But what about now? Does the policy say we’re supposed to stay and die, too? Was this always going to be a suicide mission?”
It wasn’t that much of an insight. In fact, Will felt like he was kind of stating the obvious. He wondered if this was how Jay felt sometimes, trying to convince Will to come home.
Dr. Dunst was, perhaps, somewhat more teachable than Will, however. She narrowed her eyes, peering out the window past the guard from their limited vantage point as she considered the suggestion. “Not suicide, but you are right that we are at risk,” she said. “They are clearly distracted outside, but our guard has not moved. I doubt they will leave us unattended. We are likely to be a play of last resort -- a bargaining chip when the tide starts to turn against them.”
Whether or not her analysis was accurate, Will didn’t care. He just cared about the part where his brother wouldn’t have to bury the last member of his family. “So we don’t go out through the front door,” Will said with a plaintive nod to the guarded door. “We may not have the guns, but this is our hospital. We do have some advantage. We just have to find a different way out.”
This notion did seem truly novel to Dr. Dunst. “What did you have in mind?”
Will was starting to sweat as he wheeled himself around, face to Dr. Dunst and back to the door. “Look, I know every inch of this ED. Hell, I studied the schematics.”
Her brows drew together. “Why would you do that?”
“Protocol!” he said, mindful of the sound of his own voice. Outside, the drawing of the military was now like a dull roar. The terrorists beyond the exam room and into the lobby were starting to yell orders at each other. He could spend time hoping they were ordering a retreat or surrender, but Will wasn’t lucky like that. He shook his head, forcing his focus to stay relevant. “I needed to know the emergency exits. And just the flow of the space. I was the new guy, but I couldn’t afford to act like it. So of course I studied the schematics.”
This explanation appeared to fascinate her, but Dr. Dunst was able to keep her focus somewhat better than Will was. “Okay. I assume this is relevant to our situation.”
“It is,” Will said. “Because we happen to be in exam six.”
She nodded at the evident fact. “Yes?”
“Supply six has a supply closet,” he said, and he gestured to the far wall, away from the guard at the door outside. “Right there.”
She followed his gesture, and made a little frown with her face. “Closets and interior spaces without windows can be useful spaces in cases of shelling.”
Will shook his head, all but refusing to contemplate the possibility of the building getting bombed just yet. “No, think about it,” Will said. “It’s a shared supply closet. It also opens to exam two.”
Although Dr. Dunst’s plan had involved staying in the face of certain peril, she was quick to pick up on what Will was saying here. “Yes,” she said, nodding along. “And exam two is connected to the outer hallway on the opposite side of the ED.”
“Which is obscured from the waiting room and the main staging area,” Will said. “There might not be anyone there.”
“It is possible,” she said, but she didn’t seem completely convinced. “It is still a real risk that would likely end in our deaths if it does not go to plan.”
“And staying here is a real risk,” Will said. He pulled his head toward the growing commotion outside. “You said it yourself, things are about to get pretty bad -- and bargaining chips are ultimately expendable. If we stay here, we’re probably going to die.”
For a moment, she considered this. Then, she nodded, in the most perfunctory fashion. “Very well. We are in agreement. You must go.”
With palpable relief that he wasn’t being resigned to inevitable death in order to do his job, Will started to inch his way over to the supply closet, keeping low and inconspicuous. The guard outside was distracted with the commotion in the street, but that cover wouldn’t hold for long.
As set as he was on getting the hell out of there, he didn’t notice that Dr. Dunst hadn’t moved until he was there. He stopped short, jerking his head to the supply closet pointedly. “Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry if we’re going to make it. If the back hall is clear, we should have access to one of the stairwells, which can still take us up to the mezzanine.”
He was in full on planning mode now, something he was inordinately better as these days thanks to Dr. Dunst’s guidance and expectations.
This time, however, she seemed neither impressed nor compelled to oblige him. “I said you must go,” she said simply. “I am staying here.”
That had to be one of the stupidest things Will had ever heard. She was going to stay here? With terrorists? As the military approached? In a prescient warzone?
He wondered if this was how Jay felt every time they talked about how long Will planned to stay in Africa. He owed his brother an apology.
He owed his brother a trip home.
Will really didn’t want to die here.
Why the hell were they debating this?
“No,” he said, wishing he might have misheard her. “No way. You have to come.”
She gave him a very serious look, nodding at him. “This is your chance. You should take it.”
Crossing back closer to her, he stared her down hard. “It’s our chance,” he said. “We have to take it together or not at all. If I go, and you stay, they will take it out on you.”
Clearly, she had already thought about this. “That is a logical and acceptable conclusion,” she said. “We must reduce their leverage. They will use us to get what they want from our governments. My government is known to negotiate. Yours is not. Therefore, you must leave.”
“If you want to reduce their leverage, then you go, too,” Will reasoned back. “Then no government has to negotiate for anything.”
She was shaking her head while he talked. “I do not have permission to leave the facility unattended. You should know this.”
Will’s mouth dropped open. “Protocol? You’re going to quote protocol?”
“We have followed protocol this whole time,” she said, and she sounded a little offended now.
“I know,” Will said. “Which is why I think we can fudge it now. The protocol wasn’t written for a terrorist takeover. I’m not going to leave you here to die.”
“But if you stay, we will both die, and that is unnecessary,” she said, and she nodded again to the door. “You must go. These situations do not resolve well, and I will see it through to whatever end I must.”
It was stupid. It was utterly, impossibly, overwhelmingy stupid. He was here, trying so hard to do the right thing, but the right thing wasn’t defined by rules and policy. It couldn’t be reduced to a list of protocol.
Could it?
Was life or death nothing more than a checklist?
He knew how messy it was to work in shades of gray, but sometimes the stark black and white interpretations left just as much to be desired.
And yet, while policy wasn’t always a black and white decision, loyalty could be.
Friendship definitely was.
He had no idea if Dr. Dunst liked him, but he liked her. More than that, he owed her a lot. She’d helped turn him into a better doctor, a better person. He wasn’t going to leave her, not now.
In his doubt, he had found her certainty.
That mattered.
That mattered a lot more than patient satisfaction rates and bottom lines.
The starkness of his own decision surprised him, but it didn’t stop him.
“Fine,” he said, drawing back close to her and sitting down. “Then I’m not going.”
She looked annoyed now. “This is unacceptable, Dr. Halstead. I am being very clear about my orders here. What did I tell you about your unquestioned acquiescence?”
“Look, I get it,” Will said, even as he sat unyielding next to her. “I know I said I’d follow orders, and I have.”
“But you have not,” she said, her ire raising. “You defy me now.”
“Because these aren’t orders that follow policy anymore,” Will said. “What you’re asking me to do right now goes beyond any protocol. You’re asking me to subvert our primary mission of saving lives.”
She pursed her lips as she glared at him. “And whose life do you imagine that you are saving right now? The patients are all gone. The staff has been evacuated.”
“The staff has not fully been evacuated,” Will said back hotly. “I’m not going to let you die anymore than you want to let me die. We both know that you are not expendable to this hospital, this city, this region. So if you’re staying, I’m staying, and I’m going to have your back -- just as required.”
She did not appear to like his answer, but she also could find no grounds to debate it. Sitting back somewhat, she regarded him sullenly. “You must understand when you make this decision. I will not compromise, not for anything. I will make no guarantee of your safety from this point forward.”
Her complete lack of sentiment didn’t change his decision. He nodded at her, resolute. “By the book,” he said. “I understand.”
“Very well,” she said, exhaling somewhat and looking back out to where the guard was pacing with fresh anxiety. “Then we will defend this hospital to the end.”
Because captains went down with their ships. Generals went down with their men.
And doctors, as it turned out, went down with their ED.
-o-
Will knew now that things were coming to a head -- he just didn’t know how or when. The idea that it was happening soon was both terrifying and reassuring. It didn’t really matter, though, because Will had made his choice, and no matter how he felt, he was committed to it now.
He was pretty sure when this whole mess was over, Jay was really going to rue the day he told Will to finish something for once.
But it could never be said that Will wasn’t teachable. At least, not in the end. He could have learned this the easy way in Chicago, but for all the times he made the same mistakes, this time, at least he was making a different one.
He checked his phone again, wishing for some way to contact his brother. To tell him it was okay, maybe? To tell him goodbye, possibly?
There was nothing to be done for it, however. The signal was still fried, and Will put his phone in his pocket, jiggled his knee and watched Dr. Dunst for another moment.
She had stopped pacing, and she was now sitting in one of the chairs. She’d pulled it closer to where Will was sitting on the exam bed, giving her a ready vantage point to the action outside.
Not that there was much to see. Even though Will could see an uptick in movement -- and he could hear the growing concern in the voices yelling back and forth -- it was hard to tell what kind of organization was going on there. As best he could deduce, the forces were pulling forward, creating a front of sorts at the hospital doors.
It was eerily similar to what had happened at his last hospital. He would think to tell them that this plan might not work, but Will wasn’t the only moron in the world who had to learn things the hard way.
The rumbling intensified, and Will heard a few volleys of gunfire. He curled his toes in his shoes while Dr. Dunst sat forward in her chair, looking earnest. “It won’t be long now.”
“Yeah,” Will said, his voice hushed as he leaned toward her. “But long until what?”
“Until this is over,” she said, matter of fact.
He raised his eyebrows. She knew the plan, no doubt. He just wondered if she’d sufficiently considered all the possible outcomes of said plan. The plan had indicated that they were to hold the ED and put off the attackers as long as they could.
The plan had not been very explicit about how they were supposed to extricate themselves from the situation.
He wasn’t sure the plan had actual contingencies to promote survival.
In other words, protocol protected the hospital and the big picture. He wasn’t sure it was going to protect them. Dr. Dunst was probably okay with that. Will wasn’t.
Which made his reasons for staying even more inconceivable, even more important.
“Over how?” Will asked back. “Did you tell them you’d be here?”
“I told them I’d hold the ED,” she said. “Surely, they will take that into consideration.”
There was a louder boom, and this one was close enough to rattle the walls. Will looked around anxiously. It felt like the walls were going to cave in -- metaphorically and possibly literally.
“Are you sure about that?” Will asked.
She turned to glare at him. “If you want to leave, the exit is still there.”
“I told you I’m staying,” he said, glaring back. His deference was getting strained now. From the familiarity, yes. From the likelihood of his own death, definitely. “I know what choice I’ve made. I just hope you know the one you’ve made.”
Before she could reply, there was another blast, and this one was loud enough to ring in his ears. A tray fell over, and Will braced himself against the bed while Dr. Dunst rocked forward precariously. The blast was followed by an explosion of gunfire, which seemed to be coming from all directions. Will drew back out of instinct, trying not to think about the trajectory of bullets and whether or not the glass here was still considered bulletproof after the shelling this morning.
Chaos erupted outside, and one of the guards fled from in front of their room. Before Will could make sense of that, another man ran forward -- the same one from before. He opened the door so hard that it slammed against the wall. His gun was up this time, and he pointed it out there. “What have you done?” he demanded. “What is this?”
Will didn’t dare move, but he kept his hands where they were plainly visible. Nonplussed, Dr. Dunst gave the man a plaintive sort of look, as though she were lecturing a resident and not an armed gunman. “We have done nothing except comply,” she said. “I cannot think this response surprises you.”
“But where are the offers for negotiation!” the man said, and he came forward now, menacing in his anger. “We were supposed to barter!”
“We did what you wanted,” Will said, feeling his breath start to catch in his chest.
“It is up to you to use that,” Dr. Dunst added.
Seething, the man reached for her, dragging her up by the collar of her coat. She got stumbling to her feet, but before Will could even try to intervene, another man entered the room.
This man also had a gun.
If the first man seemed scared, this one just seemed pissed.
Letting Dr. Dunst go, the two men started to engage, and Will held out some kind of hope that this might work in their favor. Their debate escalated however, angry words pitched in a language Will still didn’t speak, and Dr. Dunst edged just an inch or so backward until she was back on her chair, watching the scene unfold expectantly.
The men were yelling; the fight was starting to pick up outside. Someone was wailing. Another blast shook them, and Will saw dust shake free from the ceiling tiles. He couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he didn’t know anything about structural engineering.
The yelling escalated. The first man shoved the second, turning back toward Will and Dr. Dunst with a hand out imploringly. The request was on his face, but it never made it off his tongue. Before he finished drawing a breath to speak, the second man raised his handgun and shot the first in the back of the head.
For all the horrible things Will had seen on the inside of an ED, the scope of the violence was shocking. He’d become good at handling the aftermath, but he was still a novice at seeing it face to face. When he’d been kidnapped by the Burke family, the PTSD had nearly derailed his life entirely. Something, he thought it still was. He couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t still suffering from it, that PTSD hadn’t affected every choice he’d made since then.
Every choice he’d make going forward.
But this -- watching the man’s head break open as blood and brain matter splattered everywhere -- took things to a whole new level.
Will didn’t know if he was going to be sick or just pass out. How his brother handled this kind of thing, he had no idea.
Will had no idea.
Not about any of it.
There was no time for shock, though. There was no time for anything.
The second man stalked up to them, gun raised. “You will help me!”
Will couldn’t even fathom what that meant. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and he felt sicker than before.
Dr. Dunst, though, puffed out her chest. “Help you what?” she asked. She nodded to the man. “We should be helping him!”
Face twisted in the most abject anger Will had ever seen, the man shot the other man again, just to prove how pointless it was to argue. “Your military is here. Why are they here?”
“First,” Dr. Dunst said, surprisingly unflappable despite the murder that had just occurred in front of them -- not to mention the firefight still going on just beyond the ED doors. “It is hardly my military since any forces from the Netherlands are still located firmly on European soil. Second, I’m sure they are here to stop your attempt at a terrorist attack.”
Logic was clearly not what this man wanted. He made a guttural sound, raging forward with his gun up. “I do not care to hear your senseless rambling!” he roared at her. “You will come and help me negotiate.”
“I have done that already,” Dr. Dunst said. “We both have. If you had not killed your friend, he would attest to our cooperation.”
He reached out, grabbing Dr. Dunst by the collar and lifting her forward. Will objected, stepping forward as well in a misguided attempt to interfere. For his trouble, he was knocked backward, and the tense confrontation culminated with the gun pointed at Dr. Dunst’s head.
“You are alive to help us with our cause,” he said, giving the words slow and careful enunciation. “If you are not going to be useful, I will have no reason for keeping you alive.”
“Okay, okay!” Will said, stepping forward again with a little more caution now. “What do you need us to do?”
Dr. Dunst cast him a disparaging look, but the man turned his attention on Will. “Negotiate, first. If that does not work, then you are to be our human shields. The military does not want collateral damage.”
Will was ready to cede that point, but Dr. Dunst had apparently run out of patience with the process. “There is absolutely no way that we will help you with that,” she said. “I will not be your pawn any longer.”
The man approached her again, gun brought to bear, but she didn’t even flinch.
Though angry, the man was clearly not stupid. When he saw her defiance, he stepped back.
“You are a doctor, yes?” he said.
Dr. Dunst nodded. “Of course.”
“And you save lives?” he prompted, and Will felt his stomach turn even if he didn’t know why.
“Yes,” she said. “Unlike some of us in this room.”
The man smiled, dark and wide. “Then save a life,” he said, turning the gun and bringing it to bear on Will. “Save his.”
This was getting far too common, really. This whole point a gun at the red headed doctor bit. Chicago gangsters, African gangsters, now terrorists. You would think Will was getting used to it.
He wasn’t.
He really, really wasn’t.
The gun was aimed at his chest, and Will froze on the spot. His hands were already up, and his heart stuttered loudly as pressure started to build up in his chest and his head started to throb while the blood drained out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and feeling surreal.
The man stepped closer, jabbing the gun at him until the barrel made contact with his chest. “Help me, or I will shoot him right here, right now.”
If this was a bluff, it was a good one -- and truthfully, Will didn’t want to test it out. A thousand responses flitted through his mind, but it wasn’t his acquiescence that was wanted right now. The gun was on him, but the man was staring at Dr. Dunst.
And Dr. Dunst was staring back.
But where he had expected her to be wholly unflinching, her eyes met his, and he saw the indecision. He saw the hesitation. He saw the pain.
That was when he realized the horrible truth.
It wasn’t that she was going to let him die.
No, she wasn’t going to stay true to her word.
She was going to give in.
She was going to give them what they wanted.
To spare his life, she was going to go against her word.
“If you put the gun down, we can talk about this,” Dr. Dunst said, but her tone was far more conciliatory now.
It was a subtle play, but the man picked up on it. He knew he’d found the right button to hit. “We talk about it, and then I put the gun down.”
Dr. Dunst stepped forward, closer to him and facing him. “If you kill him, you get nothing from me,” she said. “It is a lost cause.”
“Dr. Dunst--” Will started, but the gun dragged against his chest again.
She stepped closer still. “Let us talk reasonably,” she said, and she was too close now.
The man flinched, and the gun wavered. There was an explosion -- not so far away -- and the sound rattled the building. She was on the verge of interfering.
He was on the verge of shooting.
Dr. Dunst was going to die for him.
A second explosion shattered glass nearby, and the lights flickered. Dr. Dunst started to move forward once more, and Will saw the gun turned toward her. There was no time to think; no time to doubt.
Will lunged, keeping himself between the gun and Dr. Dunst.
Someone yelled -- it might have been him.
There was another explosion in the distance.
People were screaming somewhere beyond the doors, and Dr. Dunst was ordering invectives.
But the sound of the gunshot, crystal clear and punctuated, ripped through it all.
That was the sound that mattered.
That was the sound that counted.
You could make a thousand choices, and most of them were reversible. You could make a thousand mistakes, and most of them could be atoned for. But some choices mattered. Some mistakes could not be undone.
Will knew that. Will knew it better than most.
Sometimes it got you fired.
Sometimes it got you beat up.
And sometimes it got you shot.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
-o-
The moment of hesitation was necessarily fleeting. Once Will made the call, there was no turning back. Dr. Dunst showed no signs of trepidation, despite the fact that she had just willingly charged into a veritable battlefield. That said a lot about her.
The fact that he was still willingly following, precisely according to protocol, probably said something about him, too. He would have to consider that when he got out of here.
If he got out of here.
Sparing no time for drama, Dr. Dunst directed them back toward the ED entrance. She moved with purpose, but she kept her pace guarded and precise, doing the final check of every room and closet as they made the sweep back. As they approached, Dr. Dunst intuitively drew them down, slowing their pace substantially and seeking natural spot of cover as they moved forward.
Finally, when they could go no farther, Dr. Dunst drew to a stop behind the central desk of the administration area, out of any line of sight while still maintaining some visibility of their surroundings.
“How many attackers did you see?” Dr. Dunst asked, keeping herself low while trying to get an eyeline on the lobby. She was barely whispering now, but her voice still conveyed her utter purpose.
“Honestly, I was a little more preoccupied with keeping track of our people,” Will said, just as hushed. “I didn’t stick around for a good look.”
She nodded, eyes straining to see better. “Reports suggested that the militia in question numbered in the hundreds.”
Will gawked at her, feeling his heart fall into his stomach. If he didn’t die here, Jay was going to kill him for sure. “Hundreds?”
Dr. Dunst appeared much less bothered by these numbers than Will. “Forces are broken down into smaller divisions,” she clarified. “The last security briefing I had before locking down my office suggested two dozen men to take the hospital.”
Will peered wearily over the wall. “Looks like they got the lobby,” he said with regret. “It’s hard to make out, but I don’t see any security personnel still standing.”
Dr. Dunst seemed to purse her lips in agreement, even as she continued to assess the situation. “No reinforcements were directed to the lobby.”
Will’s surprise was more personal this time. “Why not?”
She looked back at him. “You know how sometimes we sacrifice a single limb in an attempt to save the body, Dr. Halstead?”
He hesitated, not wanting to answer. “Yeah--”
She inclined her head. “The ED was always going to be lost,” she said. “The majority of the policy was designed to give the hospital sufficient time to evacuate.”
That was a little bit hard to hear, and Will understood their conversation in her office with a bit more clarity now. She hadn’t been asking him to protect the ED. She had been asking him to give up the ED -- himself included, if necessary.
It seemed cold and calculating, but she was right here with him. She wasn’t asking him to do anything she wouldn’t do herself. No, she was giving him her trust.
That realization was sudden and enlightening. All these months he’d toiled under her supervision, desperate for any sign of approval. And here he’d gotten it, in the most potent way possible. It was a monumental achievement, he felt. If only it didn’t have to come with monumental risk.
He might not live to tell this story.
“So, I know why I came back to sweep the floor,” Will said, shifting his position while keeping his profile below the line of sight. “But what about you?”
It was a good question, and she knew it. She looked back at him, and the composure he usually saw was replaced by something a little more desperate. She was a woman who knew what she had to do, but she wasn’t devoid of emotion. In her certainty, Will saw the first and only signs of fear he’d ever sensed from her.
“Dr. Halstead, the fallback plans are not as foolproof as policy would have you believe,” she said. “The city is in a tenuous position, and if this facility is ceded, then it is only a matter of time before the entire block is taken. Our people and the patients entrusted to us are not safe yet. We still need to buy more time to ensure their safety.”
Will was feeling positively ill now. “Back up is coming?”
She nodded. “Enroute, but it will take time,” she said. “Officially, my orders come from the very top of our organization.”
He swallowed, asking the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to. “And?”
“And I am to hold this ED for as long as I can,” she told him.
“No matter what?” he asked hoarsely.
Dr. Dunst, however, did not flinch. “No matter what.”
-o-
When most people said, no matter what, they didn’t really mean it. How could they? As if any one person could possibly envision what that means. No matter what? It was too wide, too vague, too everything.
But Will had pledged himself to this place. He had promised himself to this organization. And he had committed himself to this one woman.
He started it.
He would finish it.
No.
Matter.
What.
Even if it meant walking into a hostile takeover with a terrorist cell while fully unarmed and no backup.
He could hear Jay practically having a conniption fit at the very thought of it. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was the right thing to do.
And, mostly, it was protocol.
Carefully, Dr. Dunst led them through the corridors. When they reached the blockade, she came out with her hands up, not bothering to hesitate. Will immediately followed suit, rising just in time to see a swarm of guns come his way while men started yelling.
Dr. Dunst held painfully still, and it was all of Will’s self control to follow her lead.
“We are doctors -- we’re unarmed,” Dr. Dunst explained on repeat, even as two men dragged them out at gunpoint and two more started to pat them down with such force that Will had to struggle to keep his balance.
The men spoke in one of the native dialects, exchanging dialogue so fast that Will couldn’t keep up with their words. Their tone, however, was pretty easy to follow.
They were pushed forward again, and Will staggered along. The area was strewn with bodies -- some from the terrorists, some from security forces. Will recognized some of them, and the doctor in him wanted to check, but that really wasn’t an option as he was brought to a stop again and turned abruptly to face a new group of men.
Will didn’t have time to figure out who they were before more voices rose at him and a gun was directed at his face. Next to him, he heard Dr. Dunst swear with an uncharacteristic loss of composure, and Will kept his hands up and clear in a last ditch attempt to prove that he really wasn’t any kind of threat.
The gun waved in his face, and someone yelled at him loud enough for his ears to hurt. It was meant to be intimidating, most likely. In truth, it probably was. But Will was so far past fear now, and the surreal rush of emotions was too fast, too furious to hold onto. Ultimately, this wasn’t about anything except his responsibility. He was just here to do his job.
“Look, I’m here with my hands up,” he said, keeping his hands spread above his head. “What more do you want?”
That was a question that finally got an answer.
The gun dropped slightly, directed at his chest no. “Contact the government!” the man holding the gun said in sharp, staccato English. “Tell them we have terms!”
It was Dr. Dunst who replied, calm and even once more. “We understand why that is something you want, but you have to understand our position here. We are doctors. This is a private hospital that does not use government funds. We are not government employees. We would have no idea who to contact to fulfill your request.”
They were in a circle of armed men now, guns in all directions. But the man training the gun on Will turned it to Dr. Dunst now as he glared down the barrel with clear vitriol. “Are you in charge?” he asked.
Dr. Dunst nodded without hesitation. “Yes, this is my hospital,” she said. “The decisions regarding its facility, people and patients belong to me.”
The man’s nose wrinkled with a sneering smile. “Then I think the government will answer your call, yes? I think they will talk to you.”
“We’re not going to make that call,” Will said, interjecting himself back into the conversation now. The gun wavered between the two of them. “You know we can’t do that.”
“I know that you probably have policies and procedures,” he said. “But I also know that those things are meaningless when the gun is to your head.”
To prove his point, the man raised the gun again, letting it sit dangerously close to Will’s forehead.
“Do you understand your position yet, Doctors?” the man asked.
Gun or no gun, Will focused on his breathing. The stakes were still the same as they had always been. He’d started this; he would finish it.
“We do understand the position,” Dr. Dunst said. “Which is why we will not comply.”
“You must call your bosses then!” the man said. “Your network, your board -- whoever! Call someone with more power than you to give me the negotiating power I need.”
Will snorted despite himself, the incredulity giving him away. “No way--”
He was cut off with an abrupt jerk of the gun, hard against his temple. Pain erupted in his head, and his vision went momentarily white.
“Fine!” the man said disdainfully. The gun was still hovering somewhere near Will’s nose now. “Then, open up the rest of the hospital. I want full control, and I will make the calls myself when I have it.”
“There’s no way either of us are going that,” Will said, the recitation of hospital policy almost rote for him by now.
Rote for him; frustrating for terrorists. The man loomed larger, and the group around them tittered anxiously. “Tell me, then, what is stopping me from killing you both, right here where you stand, and taking the keys from you.”
Will wasn’t the only one with a blind loyalty for policy at the moment. Dr. Dunst was plaintive. “The door is coded. The keys are not enough. Now that we are in full lockdown mode, you will need a password.”
“Or a tank,” Will said, not sure if that addition was helpful as these men might have a tank somewhere. “The doors are reinforced for events just like this.”
He knew that. Because he’d read all the protocols and the safety manuals. Maybe he was exaggerating about the tank, but hyperbole wasn’t his real problem at the moment.
The look of sheer hatred on the man’s face, however, was a more pressing concern. “I could burn it down,” he said vehemently, eyes sparking with anger. “Enough explosive -- just blow it up.”
“You do that and you lose all your leverage,” Will said, and he shook his head, the gun on him notwithstanding. Dr. Dunst was watching him, and he knew he was supposed to take her cue, but he knew what he had to do here. “Killing everyone is an invitation to get wiped out. You get a moment in the spotlight, but it won’t pay any dividends and only invite more attacks. You came here for hostages. A hospital full of sick people? Makes you the villain.”
The man narrows his eyes. “And what do you think you can offer me instead?”
Next to him, Dr. Dunst had gone very still, but Will didn’t trust himself to look at her. “What you need most,” Will said. “I mean, I get it. You need a high profile grab, and so you go after a hospital. But you need this moment to last, you need human collateral. Hostages. But you don’t need the whole hospital. You just need the right hostages. And I’m an attending, the head of the ED. You know by now that I’m an American. You’re not going to get a better hostage than me if you’re going for real bang for your buck. Leave the hospital alone -- keep the violence to this ED, and I’ll stay willingly, do whatever you want.”
The man seemed to consider this, his gun dipping down momentarily. Then, he bobbed his head to the side, jerking the gun toward Dr. Dunst. “I will take you, yes,” he said. “And her.”
Will’s eyes widened, and he looked to the side. Dr. Dunst was standing stock still and stony face as Will shook his head. “No, just me. That’s all you need.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said. “She is the head of the hospital. You work for her, which means she is the more valuable target. But I do like the idea of you being an American. You two stay, and we will not bother the others.”
“No--” Will started to protest, but Dr. Dunst locked her eyes on him.
“Yes,” she said over him, her voice stronger and more certain than his. “That is an acceptable deal.”
Will’s mouth dropped open, but she gave him a hard, pointed glare, and he knew better than to argue.
The man’s mouth twisted up into a sneer. “Then come with me--”
But Dr. Dunst didn’t move. “You will first let us finish our sweep of the ED, make sure that it is clear of additional personnel.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate--”
“You are free to come with us, if you like,” Dr. Dunst said, and she held her chin up higher. “Show us that you are good to your word.”
The man leaned forward, jabbing his gun toward her once more. “This deal of ours is at my convenience, not yours.”
Dr. Dunst gave a no-nonsense shrug. “Then you best ought to shoot us now, for all the good we will do you.”
Will’s eyes widened as the gun came to bear on him once more.
“You think I won’t do it?” the man seethed.
“I know you will, as you have shown your acceptance for such violence all along,” she said. “But I also know you probably think of yourself as a righteous man, as most men do. You surely don’t kill without reason, or we would be dead already. There is a plan here, and we can aid you or leave you to it. I believe in sensible leadership, so the real question is, do you?”
The man looked anxiously behind him, where more of his brothers in arms were still working on patrolling the area and discussing their next move.
“Yes, and if you do this decisively, you might even impress them,” Dr. Dunst said tersely. “Before you all compare body counts, perhaps you can compare factors that actually relate to success such as press coverage, monetary incentive and the moral high ground. That last one is a bit of a farce, but I suppose it is a matter of perspective.”
The man’s jaw went rock hard, and he prodding Will with the gun before jerking his head at Dr. Dunst. “Then, let’s go,” he said. “I will stay with you, make sure you are not lying. And don’t even think about doing something stupid.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Dr. Dunst said, sounding bored as she turned, Will following a step behind her. “You’ll shoot us?”
The gun jabbed into Will’s back, and he stumbled a step forward. “Do you have to give him any more ideas?” he muttered to her.
“There are two modes to take here: murder or negotiation,” she said back in a low voice as they started to pass through the nurse’s desk. “He wants to negotiate, which means we are not as powerless as we seem.”
Will huffed a small, breathless laugh. “You seem pretty confident about that. But I’m pretty sure all of this is against protocol.”
“All of this was your idea,” she shot back, voice low as they went into the first exam room, the new friend and his small entourage swarming ahead of them to make sure there was no threat. “And though it is an unorthodox approach, it does exactly what I told you to do. It is designed to protect the ED.”
“You were supposed to get out,” Will hissed back, and they were on their way to the next exam room while the men barked at each other in another language.
“Do not be ridiculous,” she said sharply, even as she kept her voice under her breath as they inspected the next room. “This is my hospital, and you think I would entrust it to you?”
Will wasn’t sure why -- in a day filled with horrible and painful things -- that particular comment hurt so much. Maybe because he wasn’t so foolish as to think he could control terrorists, but he’d come to hold out hope that he might be able to earn his boss’s respect.
“My apologies, then,” he said, nodding forward to let her lead. “Next time I won’t be so presumptuous.”
She pursed her lips with a hard look at him. Then, she huffed, and led the way to the next room.
-o-
Conducting the rest of the sweep had been a technicality -- and it had been mostly a facet to drag things out. They were operating in an increasingly gray area. While the objective was to slow down the terrorists’ advancement, the precise way to do so was not well defined.
In fact, it was not defined at all.
You didn’t put negotiation with terrorists in the policy handbook.
At this point, all of their options were increasingly bad options, and now that they had confirmed, yet again, that the ED was empty, it was time to enter phase two of the operation.
That would be all well and good if Will had any actual idea what phase two entailed.
Or, you know, had some say in things.
But Will was second here to Dr. Dunst.
And she wasn’t the one wielding the heavy weaponry here.
For all her bravado and confidence, Will was all too aware how precarious their position was. The last time he’d negotiated with men toting guns, he’d at least been able to build up some rapport. These particular terrorists seemed a bit more on point. In other words, their patience for hostages was limited and purposeful.
Dr. Dunst had her strategy for the terrorists, trying to use them as best she could to her ends.
The terrorists also had an end in mind.
After the sweep, they were promptly patted down once more before forcibly turned and bound with zipties, hands behind their backs. Then, a gag was shoved in his mouth, tied roughly around the back of his head. Side by side, he was marched into the waiting room, which was now serving as an assembly spot for the terrorists. Unceremoniously, they were shoved to their knees, guns jabbing into the back of their heads as if they didn’t get the point already.
Will did get the point, though. Will got it very well. He knew why he was here, at least. He knew the choices he’d made to get here. He knew the protocols, and he knew the reasons for the protocols.
That didn’t take the edge off the fear he was feeling, but it put it in context.
Besides, what was fear going to give him now?
The hollow pit in his stomach, the frantic thump-thump-thump of his heart. Sweaty palms, blood rushing to his head. His thoughts strung together rapidly, and he struggled to hold onto them as the emotions ebbed and flowed.
Someone turned on a light -- a bright one -- and then another one was brought into view. The glare was blinding, and Will tried to squint away, but the gunman behind him jabbed the gun at him again and Will resisted the urge to move. He could still make out Dr. Dunst’s figure next to him, but the blur of other movement was increasingly difficult to track. There was a bustling and yelling, then, the room descended into silence.
Will’s eyes adjusted a little -- just enough to see beyond the lights. The crowd of men, still armed. One of them was holding a video camera.
And a voice from behind his head, reciting something. Not a litany, but like he was reading something. The language wasn’t one Will knew, not even bits and pieces, but as he blinked into the light, he still understood what was going on.
This was a hostage video.
In the long list of stupid things in Will’s life, this one was pretty remarkable. Somehow, in all his efforts to do the right thing, he had ended up here, held hostage by terrorists. They were going to use his image to score media points, and it was his life that they wanted to barter with to gain standing.
Will was a doctor, not a soldier.
What was he even doing here?
What would Jay say?
Back in Chicago, Jay would have no idea yet. He was going about his day, getting ready for work. He didn’t know; Will wished he never had to know.
And all of the people he’d left behind were moving on. Maggie was running the ED down at Med. April was knee deep in her studies. Ethan was back at work, getting down to business. Ms. Goodwin was overseeing things from her all-seeing perch at the top of the Med food chain. Somewhere, in Seattle, Natalie was kissing Owen as she dropped him off at her mother’s house, going to work, just another day at the office.
It hardly computed; Will didn’t know how to put the pieces together to form a coherent story anymore. He’d made so many mistakes, and he’d worked so hard to right them. He’d been doing the right thing now. He’d been making amends.
Was this how it ended, then?
Was this was absolution looked like?
Was his account finally being called due?
Was this a necessary sacrifice? Was this a noble acceptance?
Or was this just as stupid as everything else?
As suddenly as it started, the recording stopped. The lights were switched off, and the chatter started up again. Will was yanked to his feet, and next to him, Dr. Dunst was dragged up next to him. He caught sight of her face, and somehow, she managed to make a terrorist takeover look like another day in the office.
He was jealous of her for a second. It wasn’t a question of fortitude. It was a question of certainty. She had utter confidence in herself and each decision she made. Will, even after all this, was just as uncertain as he had been when he made the choice to leave Chicago.
It never got better.
It just kept getting harder and harder.
Would it ever make sense? Would he ever get it right? Would he even get a chance to find out?
At this point, that last question was the most pressing one. His existential crisis was an ongoing issue, but the fact that he was currently a frontline hostage for a terrorist cell was probably the more important thing to focus on at the moment.
He tried to keep his feet moving as he was dragged back through the crowd of armed men. Dr. Dunst was marched a few steps ahead of him, and they were taken back into the more secluded ED area. Several men were patrolling the area now, and the guards with them took them to an exam room. Here, there zipties were cut and the gags were removed.
Then, he was shoved forward into the room, hard enough that he nearly lost his balance and had to catch himself on the exam bed. Dr. Dunst followed suit with much less fluster.
The man did not look particularly pleased at the moment. Two guards flanked him, and he sighed. “Do not give me reason to tie you up again,” he said. “If you do, I will not bother with zipties. I will solve the problem by putting a bullet in your head.”
“That’s not a very effective bargaining tactic,” Dr. Dunst said.
Will stared at her, moderately incredulous. She seemed to have forgotten that they were being held at gunpoint in their own ED.
The man smiled faintly. “The stakes are much higher than the two of you,” he said. “Do not overestimate your position here. The value you offer us hangs by threads.”
That seemed perfectly ominous, and Will shrank back farther as the man shut the door behind him, notably leaving the two guards at the front. Dr. Dunst pursed her lips, as if the entire situation was an annoying inconvenience to her.
Feeling a little sick, Will sank down to the exam bed behind him, perching on the end of it as he tried to get his thoughts together. They had patted him down, but they hadn’t taken his phone. He got it out of his pocket, checking it in futility. There was no connection.
He put it away, and shook his head. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. Jay was going to kill him -- if the terrorists didn’t do it first.
In front of him, Dr. Dunst was pacing. There was no anxiety in her stance, however. She just seemed expectant.
Expectant of what, Will wasn’t sure. Either she was utterly resolved that this was going to work out -- or she was really that fearless in the face of death.
She wasn’t stupid enough to think things would magically work out on their own.
Will wasn’t sure where he fell on the spectrum. He was probably too tied up in shock and denial to really grapple with much else.
“You have done well,” Dr. Dunst told him, casting a glance his way. She kept pacing, but her nod was reaffirming.
Will made a face at her. “I haven’t done anything,” he said. “All we’ve done is let them push us around.”
She stopped, looking at him with concern. “We have secured this ED. We have bought precious time. We have followed the plan.”
Will snorted despite himself. He liked to use all deference around Dr. Dunst, but the situation was wearing his resolve thin. “This is the plan? It kind of feels like a terrible plan.”
And Will would know, after all. He was the master of terrible plans. He had come up with many to his own detriment time and again.
Giving yourself up to terrorists seemed to be up there with allowing your ex-fiancee to steal your trial medications to give to her mother.
They were both stupid, but one was just a little bit more ethically questionable.
She stepped closer, even more disconcerted. “I told you. These are our orders.”
Will inhaled, feeling ragged. “Sure, but do you know for sure the orders are going to work out? I mean, we’re putting a lot of faith into those orders right about now.”
“Dr. Halstead, you are letting your emotions get the better of you--”
“Um, yeah!” Will said, his voice raising somewhat. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re hostages.”
“Which is what we knew would happen. I was not vague about this. I never misled you or equivocated,” she said.
Will sighed, shaking his head again. “I know, I know. Just -- I don’t want to die here. I have a brother back home, and he’s going to be so pissed if I don’t come back.”
“It is normal to fear for your life, perhaps,” she said, coming another step closer. “But you must keep perspective. You cannot lose sight of what you knew when you started this.”
“Which is what, exactly?” he asked, feeling bereft.
“That we have a plan,” she said. “That the things we do are for a reason. Look, Dr. Halstead. No matter what our circumstances seem, we have been successful in what we set out to do.”
“I thought backup was coming,” Will blurted, the frustration too much now. “I thought we had an out.”
“And we do,” she said. Her eyes brightened, and she tipped her head to the side as she fell quiet for a moment. “Listen.”
Listen to what, Will wasn’t sure at first. It was hard to distinguish much over the sound of his own heart -- and the continuing ruckus outside the doors. But then, he heard something different, a distant sound, low and rumbling.
Will tried to place it, but he was coming up short. “Is that thunder?” was all he could think to ask.
She looked far too pleased with herself. “No, that is the backup,” she said, because she knew somehow.
She knew.
She’d known all along.
No doubt, all confidence. She had been planning this all along, and she had never thought twice about it not coming to fruition. That kind of certainty, that kind of unwavering belief -- Will might have understood it once. Now, he found himself wondering how to get it back.
The idea of self realization still mattered. It was largely why he’d come to Africa in the first place.
It just didn’t matter now.
“Backup?” Will asked, pressing the more practical issue. He looked back behind him, swallowing anxiously. “What kind of backup are we getting?”
She remained low and did not move from her position, but her eyes lifted with obvious interest. “The kind we need,” she said as the rumbling continued to approach. “Full military support.”
It was said with a surprisingly calm demeanor, and Will wasn’t sure how she was pulling it off. He could hear the sound growing louder as it started to vibrate in his chest, and his heart was starting to pound right along with it. Full military support meant full military intervention. He dropped down lower, leaning closer to Dr. Dunst and out of the eyeline of the guard still patrolling outside. “Are you serious?” he hissed. “This whole place is about to become a warzone.”
He was losing control over his emotions, but Dr. Dunst remained impeccably calm. “Yes, a warzone without collateral damage. Everyone else has been evacuated. Our staff, our patients -- they are safe, thanks to our efforts here. We have done our job.”
She was right, of course. Everyone else had been evacuated. Will had stepped up and done his job, even in the face of the impossible and terrifying.
Yet, she was wrong, too. There was still collateral damage, and Will tried not to think about Jay getting a call from the state department, telling him that Will had died.
He shook the thought away, glaring at Dr. Dunst instead. “But what about us? Do you really think they’re just going to leave us in here when they realize what’s happening? And even if they do leave us alone, how is the military going to know that there are two civilians in here? We are about to become collateral damage!”
By the look on her face, this was not something she had fully considered. It was also something she clearly did not fully care about. “That consideration was not relevant at the time,” she concluded, as if that was that.
That was not that. “Sure, at the time,” Will conceded with a grunt. “But what about now? Does the policy say we’re supposed to stay and die, too? Was this always going to be a suicide mission?”
It wasn’t that much of an insight. In fact, Will felt like he was kind of stating the obvious. He wondered if this was how Jay felt sometimes, trying to convince Will to come home.
Dr. Dunst was, perhaps, somewhat more teachable than Will, however. She narrowed her eyes, peering out the window past the guard from their limited vantage point as she considered the suggestion. “Not suicide, but you are right that we are at risk,” she said. “They are clearly distracted outside, but our guard has not moved. I doubt they will leave us unattended. We are likely to be a play of last resort -- a bargaining chip when the tide starts to turn against them.”
Whether or not her analysis was accurate, Will didn’t care. He just cared about the part where his brother wouldn’t have to bury the last member of his family. “So we don’t go out through the front door,” Will said with a plaintive nod to the guarded door. “We may not have the guns, but this is our hospital. We do have some advantage. We just have to find a different way out.”
This notion did seem truly novel to Dr. Dunst. “What did you have in mind?”
Will was starting to sweat as he wheeled himself around, face to Dr. Dunst and back to the door. “Look, I know every inch of this ED. Hell, I studied the schematics.”
Her brows drew together. “Why would you do that?”
“Protocol!” he said, mindful of the sound of his own voice. Outside, the drawing of the military was now like a dull roar. The terrorists beyond the exam room and into the lobby were starting to yell orders at each other. He could spend time hoping they were ordering a retreat or surrender, but Will wasn’t lucky like that. He shook his head, forcing his focus to stay relevant. “I needed to know the emergency exits. And just the flow of the space. I was the new guy, but I couldn’t afford to act like it. So of course I studied the schematics.”
This explanation appeared to fascinate her, but Dr. Dunst was able to keep her focus somewhat better than Will was. “Okay. I assume this is relevant to our situation.”
“It is,” Will said. “Because we happen to be in exam six.”
She nodded at the evident fact. “Yes?”
“Supply six has a supply closet,” he said, and he gestured to the far wall, away from the guard at the door outside. “Right there.”
She followed his gesture, and made a little frown with her face. “Closets and interior spaces without windows can be useful spaces in cases of shelling.”
Will shook his head, all but refusing to contemplate the possibility of the building getting bombed just yet. “No, think about it,” Will said. “It’s a shared supply closet. It also opens to exam two.”
Although Dr. Dunst’s plan had involved staying in the face of certain peril, she was quick to pick up on what Will was saying here. “Yes,” she said, nodding along. “And exam two is connected to the outer hallway on the opposite side of the ED.”
“Which is obscured from the waiting room and the main staging area,” Will said. “There might not be anyone there.”
“It is possible,” she said, but she didn’t seem completely convinced. “It is still a real risk that would likely end in our deaths if it does not go to plan.”
“And staying here is a real risk,” Will said. He pulled his head toward the growing commotion outside. “You said it yourself, things are about to get pretty bad -- and bargaining chips are ultimately expendable. If we stay here, we’re probably going to die.”
For a moment, she considered this. Then, she nodded, in the most perfunctory fashion. “Very well. We are in agreement. You must go.”
With palpable relief that he wasn’t being resigned to inevitable death in order to do his job, Will started to inch his way over to the supply closet, keeping low and inconspicuous. The guard outside was distracted with the commotion in the street, but that cover wouldn’t hold for long.
As set as he was on getting the hell out of there, he didn’t notice that Dr. Dunst hadn’t moved until he was there. He stopped short, jerking his head to the supply closet pointedly. “Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry if we’re going to make it. If the back hall is clear, we should have access to one of the stairwells, which can still take us up to the mezzanine.”
He was in full on planning mode now, something he was inordinately better as these days thanks to Dr. Dunst’s guidance and expectations.
This time, however, she seemed neither impressed nor compelled to oblige him. “I said you must go,” she said simply. “I am staying here.”
That had to be one of the stupidest things Will had ever heard. She was going to stay here? With terrorists? As the military approached? In a prescient warzone?
He wondered if this was how Jay felt every time they talked about how long Will planned to stay in Africa. He owed his brother an apology.
He owed his brother a trip home.
Will really didn’t want to die here.
Why the hell were they debating this?
“No,” he said, wishing he might have misheard her. “No way. You have to come.”
She gave him a very serious look, nodding at him. “This is your chance. You should take it.”
Crossing back closer to her, he stared her down hard. “It’s our chance,” he said. “We have to take it together or not at all. If I go, and you stay, they will take it out on you.”
Clearly, she had already thought about this. “That is a logical and acceptable conclusion,” she said. “We must reduce their leverage. They will use us to get what they want from our governments. My government is known to negotiate. Yours is not. Therefore, you must leave.”
“If you want to reduce their leverage, then you go, too,” Will reasoned back. “Then no government has to negotiate for anything.”
She was shaking her head while he talked. “I do not have permission to leave the facility unattended. You should know this.”
Will’s mouth dropped open. “Protocol? You’re going to quote protocol?”
“We have followed protocol this whole time,” she said, and she sounded a little offended now.
“I know,” Will said. “Which is why I think we can fudge it now. The protocol wasn’t written for a terrorist takeover. I’m not going to leave you here to die.”
“But if you stay, we will both die, and that is unnecessary,” she said, and she nodded again to the door. “You must go. These situations do not resolve well, and I will see it through to whatever end I must.”
It was stupid. It was utterly, impossibly, overwhelmingy stupid. He was here, trying so hard to do the right thing, but the right thing wasn’t defined by rules and policy. It couldn’t be reduced to a list of protocol.
Could it?
Was life or death nothing more than a checklist?
He knew how messy it was to work in shades of gray, but sometimes the stark black and white interpretations left just as much to be desired.
And yet, while policy wasn’t always a black and white decision, loyalty could be.
Friendship definitely was.
He had no idea if Dr. Dunst liked him, but he liked her. More than that, he owed her a lot. She’d helped turn him into a better doctor, a better person. He wasn’t going to leave her, not now.
In his doubt, he had found her certainty.
That mattered.
That mattered a lot more than patient satisfaction rates and bottom lines.
The starkness of his own decision surprised him, but it didn’t stop him.
“Fine,” he said, drawing back close to her and sitting down. “Then I’m not going.”
She looked annoyed now. “This is unacceptable, Dr. Halstead. I am being very clear about my orders here. What did I tell you about your unquestioned acquiescence?”
“Look, I get it,” Will said, even as he sat unyielding next to her. “I know I said I’d follow orders, and I have.”
“But you have not,” she said, her ire raising. “You defy me now.”
“Because these aren’t orders that follow policy anymore,” Will said. “What you’re asking me to do right now goes beyond any protocol. You’re asking me to subvert our primary mission of saving lives.”
She pursed her lips as she glared at him. “And whose life do you imagine that you are saving right now? The patients are all gone. The staff has been evacuated.”
“The staff has not fully been evacuated,” Will said back hotly. “I’m not going to let you die anymore than you want to let me die. We both know that you are not expendable to this hospital, this city, this region. So if you’re staying, I’m staying, and I’m going to have your back -- just as required.”
She did not appear to like his answer, but she also could find no grounds to debate it. Sitting back somewhat, she regarded him sullenly. “You must understand when you make this decision. I will not compromise, not for anything. I will make no guarantee of your safety from this point forward.”
Her complete lack of sentiment didn’t change his decision. He nodded at her, resolute. “By the book,” he said. “I understand.”
“Very well,” she said, exhaling somewhat and looking back out to where the guard was pacing with fresh anxiety. “Then we will defend this hospital to the end.”
Because captains went down with their ships. Generals went down with their men.
And doctors, as it turned out, went down with their ED.
-o-
Will knew now that things were coming to a head -- he just didn’t know how or when. The idea that it was happening soon was both terrifying and reassuring. It didn’t really matter, though, because Will had made his choice, and no matter how he felt, he was committed to it now.
He was pretty sure when this whole mess was over, Jay was really going to rue the day he told Will to finish something for once.
But it could never be said that Will wasn’t teachable. At least, not in the end. He could have learned this the easy way in Chicago, but for all the times he made the same mistakes, this time, at least he was making a different one.
He checked his phone again, wishing for some way to contact his brother. To tell him it was okay, maybe? To tell him goodbye, possibly?
There was nothing to be done for it, however. The signal was still fried, and Will put his phone in his pocket, jiggled his knee and watched Dr. Dunst for another moment.
She had stopped pacing, and she was now sitting in one of the chairs. She’d pulled it closer to where Will was sitting on the exam bed, giving her a ready vantage point to the action outside.
Not that there was much to see. Even though Will could see an uptick in movement -- and he could hear the growing concern in the voices yelling back and forth -- it was hard to tell what kind of organization was going on there. As best he could deduce, the forces were pulling forward, creating a front of sorts at the hospital doors.
It was eerily similar to what had happened at his last hospital. He would think to tell them that this plan might not work, but Will wasn’t the only moron in the world who had to learn things the hard way.
The rumbling intensified, and Will heard a few volleys of gunfire. He curled his toes in his shoes while Dr. Dunst sat forward in her chair, looking earnest. “It won’t be long now.”
“Yeah,” Will said, his voice hushed as he leaned toward her. “But long until what?”
“Until this is over,” she said, matter of fact.
He raised his eyebrows. She knew the plan, no doubt. He just wondered if she’d sufficiently considered all the possible outcomes of said plan. The plan had indicated that they were to hold the ED and put off the attackers as long as they could.
The plan had not been very explicit about how they were supposed to extricate themselves from the situation.
He wasn’t sure the plan had actual contingencies to promote survival.
In other words, protocol protected the hospital and the big picture. He wasn’t sure it was going to protect them. Dr. Dunst was probably okay with that. Will wasn’t.
Which made his reasons for staying even more inconceivable, even more important.
“Over how?” Will asked back. “Did you tell them you’d be here?”
“I told them I’d hold the ED,” she said. “Surely, they will take that into consideration.”
There was a louder boom, and this one was close enough to rattle the walls. Will looked around anxiously. It felt like the walls were going to cave in -- metaphorically and possibly literally.
“Are you sure about that?” Will asked.
She turned to glare at him. “If you want to leave, the exit is still there.”
“I told you I’m staying,” he said, glaring back. His deference was getting strained now. From the familiarity, yes. From the likelihood of his own death, definitely. “I know what choice I’ve made. I just hope you know the one you’ve made.”
Before she could reply, there was another blast, and this one was loud enough to ring in his ears. A tray fell over, and Will braced himself against the bed while Dr. Dunst rocked forward precariously. The blast was followed by an explosion of gunfire, which seemed to be coming from all directions. Will drew back out of instinct, trying not to think about the trajectory of bullets and whether or not the glass here was still considered bulletproof after the shelling this morning.
Chaos erupted outside, and one of the guards fled from in front of their room. Before Will could make sense of that, another man ran forward -- the same one from before. He opened the door so hard that it slammed against the wall. His gun was up this time, and he pointed it out there. “What have you done?” he demanded. “What is this?”
Will didn’t dare move, but he kept his hands where they were plainly visible. Nonplussed, Dr. Dunst gave the man a plaintive sort of look, as though she were lecturing a resident and not an armed gunman. “We have done nothing except comply,” she said. “I cannot think this response surprises you.”
“But where are the offers for negotiation!” the man said, and he came forward now, menacing in his anger. “We were supposed to barter!”
“We did what you wanted,” Will said, feeling his breath start to catch in his chest.
“It is up to you to use that,” Dr. Dunst added.
Seething, the man reached for her, dragging her up by the collar of her coat. She got stumbling to her feet, but before Will could even try to intervene, another man entered the room.
This man also had a gun.
If the first man seemed scared, this one just seemed pissed.
Letting Dr. Dunst go, the two men started to engage, and Will held out some kind of hope that this might work in their favor. Their debate escalated however, angry words pitched in a language Will still didn’t speak, and Dr. Dunst edged just an inch or so backward until she was back on her chair, watching the scene unfold expectantly.
The men were yelling; the fight was starting to pick up outside. Someone was wailing. Another blast shook them, and Will saw dust shake free from the ceiling tiles. He couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he didn’t know anything about structural engineering.
The yelling escalated. The first man shoved the second, turning back toward Will and Dr. Dunst with a hand out imploringly. The request was on his face, but it never made it off his tongue. Before he finished drawing a breath to speak, the second man raised his handgun and shot the first in the back of the head.
For all the horrible things Will had seen on the inside of an ED, the scope of the violence was shocking. He’d become good at handling the aftermath, but he was still a novice at seeing it face to face. When he’d been kidnapped by the Burke family, the PTSD had nearly derailed his life entirely. Something, he thought it still was. He couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t still suffering from it, that PTSD hadn’t affected every choice he’d made since then.
Every choice he’d make going forward.
But this -- watching the man’s head break open as blood and brain matter splattered everywhere -- took things to a whole new level.
Will didn’t know if he was going to be sick or just pass out. How his brother handled this kind of thing, he had no idea.
Will had no idea.
Not about any of it.
There was no time for shock, though. There was no time for anything.
The second man stalked up to them, gun raised. “You will help me!”
Will couldn’t even fathom what that meant. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and he felt sicker than before.
Dr. Dunst, though, puffed out her chest. “Help you what?” she asked. She nodded to the man. “We should be helping him!”
Face twisted in the most abject anger Will had ever seen, the man shot the other man again, just to prove how pointless it was to argue. “Your military is here. Why are they here?”
“First,” Dr. Dunst said, surprisingly unflappable despite the murder that had just occurred in front of them -- not to mention the firefight still going on just beyond the ED doors. “It is hardly my military since any forces from the Netherlands are still located firmly on European soil. Second, I’m sure they are here to stop your attempt at a terrorist attack.”
Logic was clearly not what this man wanted. He made a guttural sound, raging forward with his gun up. “I do not care to hear your senseless rambling!” he roared at her. “You will come and help me negotiate.”
“I have done that already,” Dr. Dunst said. “We both have. If you had not killed your friend, he would attest to our cooperation.”
He reached out, grabbing Dr. Dunst by the collar and lifting her forward. Will objected, stepping forward as well in a misguided attempt to interfere. For his trouble, he was knocked backward, and the tense confrontation culminated with the gun pointed at Dr. Dunst’s head.
“You are alive to help us with our cause,” he said, giving the words slow and careful enunciation. “If you are not going to be useful, I will have no reason for keeping you alive.”
“Okay, okay!” Will said, stepping forward again with a little more caution now. “What do you need us to do?”
Dr. Dunst cast him a disparaging look, but the man turned his attention on Will. “Negotiate, first. If that does not work, then you are to be our human shields. The military does not want collateral damage.”
Will was ready to cede that point, but Dr. Dunst had apparently run out of patience with the process. “There is absolutely no way that we will help you with that,” she said. “I will not be your pawn any longer.”
The man approached her again, gun brought to bear, but she didn’t even flinch.
Though angry, the man was clearly not stupid. When he saw her defiance, he stepped back.
“You are a doctor, yes?” he said.
Dr. Dunst nodded. “Of course.”
“And you save lives?” he prompted, and Will felt his stomach turn even if he didn’t know why.
“Yes,” she said. “Unlike some of us in this room.”
The man smiled, dark and wide. “Then save a life,” he said, turning the gun and bringing it to bear on Will. “Save his.”
This was getting far too common, really. This whole point a gun at the red headed doctor bit. Chicago gangsters, African gangsters, now terrorists. You would think Will was getting used to it.
He wasn’t.
He really, really wasn’t.
The gun was aimed at his chest, and Will froze on the spot. His hands were already up, and his heart stuttered loudly as pressure started to build up in his chest and his head started to throb while the blood drained out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and feeling surreal.
The man stepped closer, jabbing the gun at him until the barrel made contact with his chest. “Help me, or I will shoot him right here, right now.”
If this was a bluff, it was a good one -- and truthfully, Will didn’t want to test it out. A thousand responses flitted through his mind, but it wasn’t his acquiescence that was wanted right now. The gun was on him, but the man was staring at Dr. Dunst.
And Dr. Dunst was staring back.
But where he had expected her to be wholly unflinching, her eyes met his, and he saw the indecision. He saw the hesitation. He saw the pain.
That was when he realized the horrible truth.
It wasn’t that she was going to let him die.
No, she wasn’t going to stay true to her word.
She was going to give in.
She was going to give them what they wanted.
To spare his life, she was going to go against her word.
“If you put the gun down, we can talk about this,” Dr. Dunst said, but her tone was far more conciliatory now.
It was a subtle play, but the man picked up on it. He knew he’d found the right button to hit. “We talk about it, and then I put the gun down.”
Dr. Dunst stepped forward, closer to him and facing him. “If you kill him, you get nothing from me,” she said. “It is a lost cause.”
“Dr. Dunst--” Will started, but the gun dragged against his chest again.
She stepped closer still. “Let us talk reasonably,” she said, and she was too close now.
The man flinched, and the gun wavered. There was an explosion -- not so far away -- and the sound rattled the building. She was on the verge of interfering.
He was on the verge of shooting.
Dr. Dunst was going to die for him.
A second explosion shattered glass nearby, and the lights flickered. Dr. Dunst started to move forward once more, and Will saw the gun turned toward her. There was no time to think; no time to doubt.
Will lunged, keeping himself between the gun and Dr. Dunst.
Someone yelled -- it might have been him.
There was another explosion in the distance.
People were screaming somewhere beyond the doors, and Dr. Dunst was ordering invectives.
But the sound of the gunshot, crystal clear and punctuated, ripped through it all.
That was the sound that mattered.
That was the sound that counted.
You could make a thousand choices, and most of them were reversible. You could make a thousand mistakes, and most of them could be atoned for. But some choices mattered. Some mistakes could not be undone.
Will knew that. Will knew it better than most.
Sometimes it got you fired.
Sometimes it got you beat up.
And sometimes it got you shot.