Chapter 3 Check-In Let the glean the remnant of Israel as thoroughly as a vine…
Sunday August 15th Northwest Federated Penitentiary, Orofino, Idaho
Mara shuffled along the corridor between the guards, trying to keep her expression blank. One glance up at the security camera told her they were being monitored, as the red light blinked on until they passed beneath. Inside she was an emotional mess, fearful of whatever fate had dragged her from her new cell at such a late hour. The corridors were silent, the cells in lockdown apparently to quell the threat of another riot. She'd never been summoned after curfew before, not even during her years in Genesis. Nothing could be taken for granted in this place, and as they headed up from the basement level she prayed they wouldn't cancel her for lack of anything better to do.
Flashes from her past life flitted through her memory, renewing that intense longing for the freedom she'd had ever since being brought here. She'd had everything going for her—newly engaged to a wonderful man and working as an EMT for Ashland Fire & Rescue. Looking back on it now, she'd realized how careless she'd been, naïvely requesting a chaplain officiate at their ceremony instead of a justice of the peace. That had been what tipped them off, leading to her arrest and then to Bryan's eventual betrayal. Pursing her lips, she vowed never to trust anyone again, except God—no one. Especially not men.
"You know where you're headed?" the guard on her right asked right after the elevator doors swept shut. Keeping her head down, she cringed inwardly and remained silent. "I bet you'd sure like to know…"
"Shut up, Farrell," her other guard warned as they sped upward, into the Central zone floors indicated on the light panel. He leaned forward and punched Floor 12.
Ok, so I'm not being brought to the warden's offices…
"But she looks nervous," Farrell protested with a chuckle. "I just wanted to reassure her."
"That soft spot of yours is gonna get us killed one day," the other one complained.
"You're being reassigned to Medical," Farrell informed her as their speed slowed considerably, "…some sort of an emergency I heard."
Nothing more was said, and by the time they were heading toward Medical she struggled to remembered her training—there was no other reason why they'd reassigned her except for her background. They rounded the corner to the ED, which to her surprise was strangely deserted. She'd imagined it to be filled to capacity given the rumors of a riot, not to mention incoming victims of fights and "accidents." They walked up to the registration desk where she was signed in. After a few minutes a male nurse entered wearing a bored expression. He glanced over at them, then at the sign-in sheet.
"You need to give me a requisition form, not just sign in," he stated, staring at Farrell. "You know the rules."
With a tired sigh the other guard fished inside his pocket, finally producing a folded form. This he spread out on the counter, grinning evilly at the nurse. "This what you want?"
The nurse growled under his breath, taking it and stapling it to another form. Then he nailed her with a disapproving gaze. "You Taylor?"
She nodded, keeping her expression blank.
"Well don't just stand there—come on in and yes, we do have patients," he said condescendingly. "I've got six on death watch, all elderly ICU patients while you on the other hand get to help with incoming. I'm off in 20 minutes so hopefully Doc Spence will get here before then— I paged him 15 minutes ago. You do have experience, don't you?"
She nodded, saying nothing as she followed him around the corner. "Great—you don't feel like talking! I really hope your file's accurate 'cos Dale's bringing in a black market prisoner who's in pretty rough shape."
"Black market?" she choked, horrified to realize the rumors must be true.
"Where do you think we get our most interesting prisoners?" he snorted, handing her a lab coat. "Warden's into collecting the occasional rare bird, so it should be interesting to say the least. Frankly I don't have the strength for anything more than the flatliners."
"They're at the main gate," Farrell called from Reception, interrupting them. "We'll wait til your security guy shows up."
"Thanks," the nurse called back, "he's finishing his rounds."
At the nurse's wink she glanced away, covertly pulling up the collar of her coat and praying she wouldn't make any mistakes. Just then a maintenance man walked in holding his arm against his side. The nurse frowned in response.
"What are you doing here?"
The man held up a form without a word, which the nurse snatched from his grip. As he read it he ordered her to her first task. "Scrub in while I give this guy a refill."
"Ok," she replied, noting how the man's eyes darted around the room, lingering on the supply cabinet.
"Thanks Doc," he grinned strangely, further unsettling her.
"I'm not the doc—where the hell is Spence?"
She rolled up her sleeves and began to disinfect her hands when the nurse came back into the exam room.
"By the way, the name's Mike," he told her as he pulled out trays of instruments and wound care supplies.
"What kind of injuries are you expecting?" she asked, startling him. He looked up, almost smiling before he turned to the vial cabinet.
"Check out the report, if you're that interested."
"They're here," Farrell called from the outer area.
She looked over beyond the curtain as the doors slid open to admit two guards who guided a gurney in. Dale, the warden's assistant, trailed in after them with the usual exaggerated walk. Concentrating on the screen, Mara read their report and turned to help, pulling on surgical gloves.
"Slashers had a heyday with his arms," Dale sighed as they positioned the gurney, then left. "Probably used dirty knives on him, too—the jerks. But he was a good buy."
Mike quickly hooked him up while Dale pointed to his ankles. "I'd bind him if I was you—he was delirious all the way in."
"Yeah ok—his BP's way too high," Mike sighed, turning from studying the monitors. "Taylor, get a blood sample."
"Ok," she replied, reaching for the kit while he did a prelim. "The liver's a bit enlarged…possible rib fractures on the right—we'll get imaging studies. I hear some wheezing too—hopefully they didn't puncture a lung."
Mike began to cut off the tattered shirt while she tried not to stare at the cut, bruised and swollen condition of his arms. "He's probably got cellulitis by now."
She picked up a gauze pad and held out the hazardous waste bin for him. "I've done a lot of wound debridement in the past," she informed him.
He looked. "How far 'past'?"
She held his gaze a moment. "It's been a while," she admitted, "but I used to be pretty good."
"I'll take whatever I can get," he stated, tossing a handful of bloodied gauze into the bin.
"Stupid bounty hunters like to cut things up without having a clue of where to look," Dale complained, settling onto a stool to watch.
"So why were they after him?" Mike said to make conversation while they worked.
Mara began to swab the filthy crusted over lacerations on the right arm while he worked on the left. The swelling was significant, and judging by his delirium he was febrile. "Shouldn't we get an IV in?"
"Nowhere to place it, sweetheart," Mike sighed, working quickly. "Give me a second and I'll have one."
"Hunters think he's been off-grid for some time," Dale explained, watching closely. "They said he was a university professor, or some cockamamie tale. Make sure you run a full DNA on him though, just in case."
Mara glanced at the man's face, trying to hide the admiration she felt. A professor? There was no way someone in that kind of a position would be off-grid, unless they were amazingly good at hiding their identity. But he seemed fairly young, early 30s probably, though he did have good bone structure beneath the battered skin of his face. She couldn't help but notice that he had an athletic build, also at odds with that occupation.
"I know, dearie," Dale chuckled, leaning in. "He's probably cute too, beneath all that crud—I'll be interested in seeing the finished product!"
She reddened, working faster. No one could hide anything from Dale, whose skills of perception were legendary.
"Where you from, sweetie?"
"I dragged her up from the dungeon just to help me," Mike said, looking up, "so don't get any ideas about stealing her away."
Dale laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "No worries, honey! Shouldn't Spence be here soon?"
"Yeah—my shift's just ending," he replied, emphasizing the last word. "I did a search for "medic" in the personnel files and came up with her number, so I ordered the transfer."
"Without Spence's authorization?" Dale choked in mock surprise. "Don't look at me like that, Mike—I'm just kidding. So what's your history, darling?"
Mara opened a suture kit now that she'd finished debriding the right arm. "I was an EMT in Oregon."
"So why were you in the Dungeon when you could have been working here?"
"I was just transferred out of Genesis," she said carefully while Mike finally placed the IV drips. She noted that he added a pouch of packed red blood cells to cover the blood loss.
"You were there? Egad—you must've made somebody mad up there! Who was it, Shirley?"
"I kept miscarrying," she replied, embarrassed by the intimate nature of the conversation.
"That's too bad," Dale commiserated. "But I'll see what I can do to upgrade you to Physician's Assistant, since you have training. Doc Spence will be thrilled to mentor you—why hasn't anyone thought of this before?"
"We're gonna be working on this one a while," Mike stated without looking up. "Sorry but we're too busy for conversation, Dale."
"Oh I can take a hint—I'll leave you two to your work," Dale stated tiredly, getting up. "Send me updates on his condition—Warden will want to question him as soon as he's of sound mind, him being a 'professor' and all."
"That won't be for a while," Mike predicted, glancing at the monitors. "His temp's 103 so let's just hope he doesn't seize, for now."
"Ok I get it," Dale sighed. "What's your name, girl?"
"Mara," she answered, daring to meet Dale's semi-friendly smile.
"I'll take a copy of your transfer and check it out—bye for now!"
"'Night," Mike said without looking up. He finished stitching the deeper wounds and reached for the steri-strip box.
"Hope that doesn't get you into any trouble," he worried, shaking his head. "I just needed your help."
"It's ok," she said quietly, finishing up the less injured arm and reaching for the gauze roll while the prisoner muttered something, starting to toss.
"Better bind his ankles and wrists to keep him still," Mike ordered, so she complied. When he finished, she watched him run a portable CT scan, enter the data and then turn to continue.
"Help me finish, will you?" he asked, cutting down the length of the patient's filthy pants. Then he unfurled a sheet over him before cleaning the skin, smiling up at her with an evil smile. "For a young lady's sensibilities," he joked.
She turned her back to check the IVs and recorded the readings while he worked on cleaning the patient's lower body. "Uh oh—he's circumcised!"
She glanced up, noting his troubled expression. "What?" she whispered, glancing down at the patient's closed eyes.
"I gotta report it, poor guy," he sighed, bandaging the left foot. "Warden will have a field day with him."
She could only guess at what fated awaited him with that declaration.
"Read me the scan results, will you?" he ordered, so she turned and read him the report.
"Good, nothing major," he breathed, looking up when the doctor entered. "Thank the gods!"
"Cracked ribs on the left, 7th and 8th," she stated, "we should tape him, right?"
The doctor leaned over the monitor. "You're right," he stated, eyeing her closely. "Whoever you are."
"This is Taylor, who's a former EMT," Mike replied. "I pulled her from the Dungeon to help us out."
"Good to have you on board, I'm Dr. Spence," he introduced himself. "Where'd we get this young man?"
"Dale bought him, if you can believe it," Mike replied, eyeing the more calmed patient. "We hear he's special."
"Aren't you off duty now?" Spence asked, "by the way, sorry I'm late. There was an accident blocking the road."
"As much as I'd love to leave I gotta mind Critical," he said, getting up. "At least I can nap in there—the monitors will wake me if they go off, so I'll leave things to you two." With that he saluted and headed for the ICU.
She noted the doctor's nod after him as he came to the patient's other side. "He bother you?"
She shrugged. "He's ok, sir."
"Good—looks like his pressure's normalizing," Doc stated, eyeing the monitors and IV drips. "It's just a matter of time now," he sighed, getting up. "Can you keep watch while I do rounds?"
"Of course," she answered.
"Stay at his side if he's so important; if you're undecided about anything, just page me, but I'll be back in 30 minutes," he said with a backward wave as he left.
Mara gazed after him, glanced toward the IC Unit and sighed in relief. Transferring her attention to the patient and his records, she checked everything again, reached over to pat the perspiration from his face and chest, then slowly turned her back to the camera. Covertly taking a half dozen packets of antibiotics, she stuffed them inside her bra, adding a few doses of pain killers as well before starting to clean up.
Hearing a beep, she turned to the computer in the corner, noting the paper readout of the DNA search. Leaning close she eyed the sketchy report, surprised at what she read. Point of First Origin: Seattle district 9… research professor in geophysics …sounded alert for Volcanic Observatory network…no prior records…orphaned age 13, disappeared from monitoring age 15…***WARNING: Suspect Semitic heritage, no known data…
Stunned, she returned to his side and took a moment to study him. Watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest she noted his rapid respirations, wondering how a real professor could end up being sold on the black market. She made a mental note to wash his hair once the scalp lacerations had time to begin healing. She wondered where he'd been when captured, and what sounding some alarm meant. It had been years since she knew anything about the outside world, from which he'd just apparently arrived.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, touching the side of his neck with a cool compress. "And what's the warden going to do with you?"
We're doomed, she tried warning him telepathically, remembering Mike's notation that he was circumcised. So far they hadn't singled her out for being Jewish, but she was in danger of being found out. As it stood she was only a Christian, a lesser offense, but it was only a matter of time before the government found out. She'd heard rumors of a coming genocide for the Jews, but had always thought that far off.
Suddenly tempted to erase Mike's note, she knew it would be too risky. This guy didn't look Jewish, so she hoped it might be overlooked. Maybe they considered him a Christian or an objector without a microchip, as was her case. With a sigh she tossed the compresses, covered him up and sat down, just as the doctor returned.
"How's he doing?" he asked quietly, noting something on his tablet as he stood just inside the room.
"His temp's down to 101," she stated tiredly. "Have you finished?"
"Yes, finally," he said, glancing up. "All's quiet for now, so I'm going into my office to catch up on a few things. Did Mike give him an LA injection—I didn't see it in the chart."
She raised her brows. "LA injection?"
"Leuprolide acetate—you know, Lupron," he sighed. "It's used to treat prostate cancer."
She tried to hide her confusion, eyeing the young man lying between them. "Isn't he too young?"
"Prison rules," he stated grimly. "It's to control aggression and used in inmate populations to decrease sex drive and performance—a protective measure, actually."
"I've never heard of that," she had to admit.
"Being an EMT there's no reason why you would have," he smiled. "Check in the corner cabinet for the vials—give it IM in the hip, would you? I need to get things ready for the morning shift."
"Of course," she answered, getting up and turning away to hide her horror. She hated hormonal therapy and all the side effects that came with it, thinking if they knew he was Jewish they would surely sterilize him, or worse. Alone again with the patient, she knew that she had to help him however she could, as long as she wouldn't be found out. As she reached into the cabinet for the vial box, she studied the label, reading the side effects and warnings.
Dare I? she wondered, feeling a rush of exhilaration at her sudden power to reverse history. The future of their people was at stake, and she knew she had to do something to help preserve it.
Dear God, help me, she prayed, throwing a furtive glance toward the closed door of the doctor's office, then toward the dark IC Unit. With her back to the camera she filled the needle, held it over the sink and emptied nearly all the contents. Turning back to the patient, she pushed him onto one hip and swabbed the skin over his other. After a glance around the ER she injected him with the tiniest remnant of the drug, covered the site and dropped the sharp into the box. Throwing out the empty syringe and case she washed her hands, making sure to rinse every trace of the fluid down the drain. Then, pulling out several sheets of toweling she dried her hands, tossed it into the waste bin and settled into the chair at his side, watching him and praying silently for his recovery.
Sunday evening "Bag End/The Shire"
Amy went to the door and paused to peer out the slats at whoever had knocked. Flooded with relief, she unlocked it and opened to Jim. "Come in—any news?" she breathed, anxious for any report he might have from the search.
"Actually yes," he said, glancing toward Samuel as he hesitated. "Hi there—I'm Nate's father. Mind if I come in?"
Sam studied him a moment, nodding as he finished his sandwich. "Ok," he said quietly.
"Samuel—we're going to have a little talk over a cup of coffee, ok?" she smiled, relieved when he nodded and slid off the stool to go play by the fire with Duke. To her surprise, her brother's dog stayed put, wagging his tail.
"I see the old boy came home," Jim said gently, walking toward the dog and patting his head. "Hey Duke." He met her gaze from across the room. "Guess that solves the problem of finding him."
She shrugged. "He's already devoted to Samuel."
Jim nodded. "We heard reports of a dog seen along the outskirts of town…he must have been looking for your brother," he said as he came back toward her.
She drew off a cup of hot water from the reservoir and handed him a mug of instant coffee, hugging herself but afraid to ask. He took a quick swallow and turned his back to Samuel, who was singing softly to Duke as he brushed his coat.
"We found his truck not far from one of the trailheads," he said soberly, holding her gaze.
She swallowed. "And?"
He shook his head. "It had been run off the road, from the looks of it. There were signs of a struggle but no sign of him," he sighed. "Some hikers showed up in town reporting they'd seen some tough biker types hanging around earlier in the day… tire treads match a domestic van and monster truck, which they are running to i.d. The sheriff thinks he was grabbed on his way down from working up at the summit, but of course we can't confirm with the university…"
"Dear God," she whispered, biting her lower lip. "Who would do that to Daniel?"
"There's no telling," he admitted quietly. "His backpack was missing but some stuff was left behind in the bed of the truck—a water bottle, compass and a log book with the university seal. Looks like he was repairing some of their monitoring equipment up there; they're holding everything as evidence, but when the close the investigation everything will be returned."
She nodded, tears threatening. "The secretary at his department once told me they send him up to fix things from time to time."
"Look, don't worry—Dan can handle himself and they'll find out who did this," he reassured her, nodding toward Samuel. "He gonna be ok?"
She nodded. "He's tough—I explained things to him, even though it's a sketchy picture."
He pursed his lips before taking another swallow. "Bikers go through there all the time, but the van makes me wonder if they were out looking for him."
She stared into this gaze. "But why? He's just a research professor."
"Ah, I think he's more than that," he whispered. "He shared some of his story with me…and his beliefs."
She shook her head. "They might have been looking for him if they knew he existed," she stated. "After my parents disowned him he didn't exist, at least not in our world…I missed him so much—I was only five at the time."
He nodded. "He told me about you."
She leaned closer. "If you knew him very well, you'd know he'd never take a microchip or mark."
"I do, but despite his low profile at the university there could have been someone who could be bought. That's the risk we all take."
She stared at him in realization. "Do you mean—are you saying you haven't?"
He held her gaze. "I'd never be part of that system, not if I could help it."
"But—how do you manage?" she asked incredulously. "How do you work, or buy food? And what about Nathan?"
"We've managed fine, as has most of the town," he admitted. "And those that have chips have no quarrel with us."
"What planet is this?" she marveled. "Aren't you afraid someone will turn you in?"
"That's always that concern, but we have faith the Lord will protect us."
"Like my brother did? Look where it got him!" she hissed. "I can't lose him again!"
"He knows the risks, Amy."
"But you can't fight the government—they're too powerful," she groaned. Eyeing Samuel, she saw his concerned expression and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie—we're just talking about Uncle Dan as we try to figure out where he might be."
He nodded soberly. "He is coming home, isn't he? Duke misses him too."
She eyed Jim as he got up and went over to them. Bending down, he petted the dog and eyed Samuel. "Don't worry, you two—we're gonna do all we can to find him and bring him home."
"How?"
"Well, we start by praying for him," he stated, rising to his full height. She went over to them, hugging herself.
"We'll pray too, won't we Samuel?"
"Ok…will Nate pray too? 'Cause he got us down and into the boats safely," he said in a small voice.
"I'm sure Nate will pray," he agreed. "Maybe I can get him to come give you a hand with Duke?"
"Sure," Samuel nodded, eyeing the dog. "That would be good—Duke really needs a bath."
Jim smiled. "I'll see what I can do, but right now I'm gonna help the sheriff find out what happened to your Uncle Dan, how's that?"
Samuel nodded. "Thanks."
They waited until he'd left, then Amy pulled Samuel onto her lap and held him. He rested his head on her shoulder, listening to the truck drive off and Duke's sigh.
"I think your Uncle Dan will be ok," she said, partly to convince herself. "With so many people praying, how could he not?"
Tuesday, August 17th Medical Unit, NWP, Orofino
Mara awoke suddenly, feeling as if she was being watched. With a sudden jerk she sat up and met his gaze, stunned by the dark and intense blue eyes holding hers.
"You're awake," she said incredulously, feeling as if time stood still while they studied each other. Then he looked away.
Getting up, she went to his side to check his monitors. "You must be feeling better," she said carefully, unhooking the used blood pack from his IV. Tossing it into the trash, she touched his hip, feeling him stiffen in response. "I just need to check your liver," she warned, waiting until he relaxed before continuing. Gently probing his abdomen she noted the way he set his jaw, then closed his eyes.
"Sorry," she breathed, "I'm finished now." Drawing the sheet back up to his chest, she sighed with relief. "It's not as enlarged as it was, which is a good sign, and your fever is down. You've suffered two cracked ribs, which will take a while to heal. The wounds in your arms were infected, but should improve over the next 24 hours…you'll have to stay here until they heal anyway."
He didn't respond, but she noted that his blood pressure had risen slightly, and adjusted his pain meds accordingly. "I know you're in pain, so I'll increase the dose so you'll feel more comfortable."
Waiting for him to respond or look at her again, she was disappointed. Not really surprised at his behavior, she decided to introduce herself.
"My name is Taylor—I used to be an EMT, but the ER physician should be in soon. By the way you're at the federal penitentiary at Orofino in what used to be Idaho, in case you were wondering. They brought me up from Solitary to help out—sometimes they use those of us who aren't 'chipped to help out if they need extra hands."
Turning to the computer she typed in his progress note, feeling his gaze and smiling at the clever way she let him know she was not one of them.
Daniel covertly studied at her, astounded by her admission. So she was a prisoner too—of course they would use inmates in different capacities, though he knew he couldn't afford to concern himself with her. He didn't need any complications despite her soothing voice and deep green eyes. He couldn't help wondering why she was so pale, her skin ghostly in appearance. And she was very thin—too thin.
Closing his eyes, he steeled himself against the pain, remembering that she'd increased the dose and he just had to wait for it to take effect. He didn't wanting anyone thinking he was weak in any way, not even a fellow prisoner. He heard footsteps and looked up to find an elderly man standing over him, his gaze focused on the monitors above his head. She must have left the room, for she was suddenly nowhere in sight.
"Your pressure is up again," he doc complained, checking the flow of his IV tube. "Taylor must've noticed…"
At his silence he smiled knowingly. "Or maybe you didn't want her to."
Glancing up at him, Daniel parted his cracked lips. "How long— have I been here?" he asked, shocked at the sound of his own voice.
"Two days—you've been in pretty bad shape since they brought you in."
"Who?" he croaked, reluctantly taking the cup of water extended to him.
"The warden's right hand fe/man Dale—surely your remember her?"
He swallowed carefully, making a face.
"Either you do remember or you're throat's sore, but it doesn't matter," the doctor chuckled, prompting Taylor to poke her head around the curtain. A smile flickered over her face before she masked it, disappearing again.
"They bought you cheap I hear," he continued, typing into the computer by his side, "hence you ended up in our ER—the best trauma unit this side of the Cascades."
Daniel pursed his lips, knowing he had to be very careful with whatever he asked or said. Beyond the curtain he watched the silhouettes as someone approached her and handed her something with a cryptic "your new address."
He heard her gasp of surprise. "You're reassigning me?"
"Not me, sweetheart," another man's voice stated. "Thank the Doc—he's got the power."
"How long until my shift is over?"
"Now don't go getting all union on me," the man teased, leaving her side. "Stay until the warden's through—I'll put in a good word for you."
"Thanks, Mike," she said as he walked away.
Daniel watched her check in somebody else, noting that the waiting room was filling up. He could see daylight streaming in through the foyer doors, closing his eyes as the pain meds finally began to work their magic. The sound of her quiet voice lulled him to sleep, and for that he was thankful.
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