A/N: Sorry if this is a bit short. I'm thinking I may give National Novel Writing Month a whirl, so I probably won't have a lot of time to update, but I'll do my best.
This chapter is dedicated to TheLittlestRagamuffin, both for being a faithful and enthusiastic reviewer of my stories in general, and for correctly guessing where this story in particular is going to go.
Disclaimer: don't own.
If there was one thing Spencer had learned during his years living at Bushwell Plaza, it was that no power in heaven or earth could restrain Marissa Benson when she believed her son was in danger. Unfortunately, he was presently tasked with trying to do exactly that.
"Oh, my poor Freddie! I have to go to him! Who knows what's happening to him out in that God-forsaken wilderness!"
Spencer pulled her back into her chair, not without considerable difficulty. "Listen, Marissa, I understand how you feel, but you have to be realistic. We've got no supplies, no means of transportation, and Gibby still needs medical attention. If we run off half-cocked now, we'll just get ourselves killed, and that won't help Freddie, Carly, or Sam one bit."
He saw that the stricken woman had begun to hyperventilate, and, without even realizing it, slipped into the same soothing tone he had always used with Carly when her asthma flared up. "You need to calm down. Just put your head between your legs and take deep, slow, breaths."
"I know how to deal with hyperventilation, you idiot! I'm a nurse!" She pushed him away as he reached out to her. "And I know what I'm suggesting, too! I know that it's…impossible…" Her gasping breaths became mixed with sobs. "Damn it, what's happening to me? I can think straight about everything else in the world, but when I think about my Freddie, I fall apart…God, I'm so weak…"
Again Spencer attempted to hold her, and this time she did not resist. "No, Marissa, no. You're not weak, not at all. Or if being frightened for someone you love is enough to make you 'weak,' then God knows we're both in that same boat."
They held one another close in silence for a few moments, each taking comfort in the other's presence. Spencer's stomach growled. "You know, I think I could really do with something to eat. How about you? I bet it would help lift your spirits."
"Well," Marissa said, sniffling, "My blood sugar is terribly low. Maybe a candy bar?"
He nodded. "Two Snickers coming right up."
As it turned out, they were in luck. Despite the huge number of people currently in the hospital, the snack machine was still almost half full, surprisingly enough. Of the two soda pop vending machines on either side of it, however, one was completely empty, the other down to its last can of Pepsi. Even as Spencer noticed this while he retrieved the candy bars, two men raced to the soda machine and began to jostle one another.
"Get out of the way! I was here first!" cried one, and Spencer, hearing his grating voice and seeing a huge mole on his face, was stunned to realize that it was none other than Lewbert. Something had obviously changed him dramatically. His clothes were covered in filth, his eyes were yellow with jaundice, and his hands shook madly as he tried to insert a dollar bill into the slot.
"Hey, Lewb –" he began, but was cut off by the other man – an African-American who looked to be, if anything, in worse shape than the Bushwell doorman. He elbowed Lewbert out of the way.
"Geez, man, that's an awfully rude way to behave," said Spencer.
"Stay out of this, Shay!" this second man snapped.
Spencer's jaw dropped. "Principal Franklin? What on Earth happened to you?"
"None of your damn business – hey, what the hell!" Franklin had realized that, while his back was turned, Lewbert was attempting once again to put money into the vending machine slot. "You don't listen, do you, you ugly little bastard? I need a drink worse than you do, so get out of the way before I beat you down!"
"Think you're a big man, huh? Nobody talks like that to Lewbert Sline!" The little doorman took a swing at Franklin's jaw. The principal dodged, grabbed Lewbert's arm, and twisted it. Spencer heard a sickening snap.
Lewbert's horrific cry of pain brought a hospital security guard running. He attempted to separate the two combatants, but they had both already succumbed to sheer rage. Franklin threw Lewbert up against the snack machine, narrowly missing Spencer, and began to beat the smaller man mercilessly about the ribs and stomach; the doorman responded the only way he could, by kicking. It did little good until one lucky shot caught Franklin in the groin. As he stumbled backward, Lewbert seized the chance to leap on him and grapple with him. They crashed about, knocking hapless bystanders to the ground, as the security guard desperately tried to interpose himself and was struck across the face for his pains.
Finally, the battle ended, ironically enough, with both men slamming into the drink machine. It began to rock back and forth. Ignoring Spencer's cry of "Look out!", the combatants continued trading headbutts and knee attacks.
The machine toppled over, pinning them both to the ground and crushing them. They writhed for a moment, then stopped moving.
People screamed. One or two fainted. In the confusion, only Spencer noticed that the lone remaining Pepsi had been jarred loose and was rolling about on the floor. He quickly halted it with his foot, then stuffed it into his pants pocket and slipped away. He knew he was behaving selfishly – there were many people who had need of it far more badly than he or Marissa did – but this was a new world, and the old codes of behavior were quickly becoming obsolete.
He returned to the waiting area to find Marissa hugging a stout black woman in medical garb and talking excitedly. "Oh, God, it's so good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, 'Rissa. It's been too long. How's your boy?"
"Freddie's – Freddie's fine. He's…away right now." Seeing that Spencer was back, she straightened up. "Miranda, this is my…friend, Spencer Shay. Spencer, this is Dr. Miranda Bailey."
They shook hands. The woman took a glance at a clipboard she was carrying. "I see that you two brought in a Gibby Gibson for treatment?"
"Yes. Yes, he's right there." Marissa gestured to where the injured boy squatted on the floor, gasping and clutching his burned chest. "Oh, Miranda, please take good care of him."
"I'll do what I can." Dr. Bailey sighed heavily. "We're more swamped now than we've ever been before. And they've stopped letting us scrub up, since clean water is so scarce. God knows how long…" – she realized that others were staring at her, and lowered her voice – "…how long it will be before infection starts spreading."
When she and an orderly had taken Gibby off behind a curtain to examine him, Spencer turned to Marissa. "I've decided something. It's probably crazy of me, but I've made up my mind."
She said nothing, but looked at him with a mixture of nervousness and hopeful anticipation.
"There's nothing for me here anymore. Once Gibby's patched up, I want to go find the others. With you."
"I thought you just said-"
"That it's impossible? That we wouldn't survive? Yeah, and I was probably right. But I'd rather take a million-to-one chance of being reunited with them than stay here in this hellhole of a city and die like an animal."
"But you don't even know for certain whether Carly is with Freddie! What if she's still trapped at the Bushwell?"
"Do you really think Freddie would let her and Sam stay there if he thought they were in danger?"
"No, but you should make sure. At least try calling her."
He flipped open his phone, but he was not hopeful. Cell service had been spotty at best for the last several hours; Marissa's frantic phone calls to Freddie had all failed to get through. To his surprise, though, he managed to get a connection.
"Hey, Carls, where are-"
It went dead.
"Damn it!" He struck the arm of his chair in frustration.
Now it was Marissa's turn again to be the reasonable one of the pair. "Can you check to see what cell tower relayed the call? At least then we'd have a general idea of where she is."
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He fiddled with his phone for a moment. "Looks like the tower was…" He looked up, smiling. "Just outside Cody, Wyoming. They're all together."
And even though the two adults had no idea what the future might hold, the knowledge that the inseparable trio was still looking out for one another gave them a fresh sense of hope.
