Fast. That's what you have to be when lives are on the line. Owen Hunt and his sister Meghan Riggs-Hunt, who sit with their fellow soldier here in the cheifs office, have a phrase they often use; Surgery is fast and a race against time. Usually taken too seriously by these military doctors, here it seems like it's an understatement.
Red lines and green spaces. Black voids, capital traces. Click. Click. After feverish click. Words appear on the screen and every bubble we bypass it. There's a flow. A motion. As illegal as this is it may be their only hope.
Detective Stone paces the empty space by the door, her anxieties are high. She says, "Talk me through this Casey, I'm a mess."
Dr. Parker looks up at her and sees her sincerity. He explains, "I've gained access to a black line throughout San Lorenzo de el Escorial. I can pinpoint almost any public location on this platform. I need to ping the last location Detective Garcia was active on a technological device and I'm in. I've already checked the hotel, their regional prisinct, and the areas with the most illegal activity. There's nothing."
"Where are those boys from? You said they were involved in a shooting?" Asks Owen.
Meghan only sits there with a concerned look on her face, thrown by what they're involved in, somewhat frightened of the consequences. The brother sister duo share flaming orange hair, and the facial expressions of people who use aggression and fury to get their points across, but not much besides that. So, she can only remain silent to say she was here for her brother. To say she was there in the name of her country would be hypocritical.
"A fire too." Says Dr. Parker, "I wasn't on the neuro service yesterday but people talk. Las Encinas."
Click. Click. Nothing.
He looks up in defeat, "If anyone has the information I need to access this it's those boys. I need to talk to them."
Detective Stone shakes her head, "That's not possible. They refuse to talk without a legal guardian present."
"Detective Garcia has a husband and the decision to adopt is something acknowledged by their betrothal. Talk to Kendall. Make those boys see reason. Ander could die if he doesn't get treatment, and Garcia could die if we don't find him." Says Casey.
Meghan stands feeling things have gone too far, "Nope. This isn't right. We could unwrap an entire arson of bombs we should not have access too. This is transnational and therefore will eventually come with threats of nukes. We've all seen those movies, Dr. Parker millions of lives could be affected if you keep this up. There are laws for a reason."
Dr. Parker shakes his head, "My duty is to the patient. I should try to save the patient."
"It's not your case. It's Dr. Sheppard's and Schmidt is the resident she's chosen. Not you. Stand down soldier." She demands.
Owen stands and starts to say something but not before Lieutenant Parker acknowledges the one who spoke to him in higher ranks. He's deleted all the memory and left the room with a salute before anything else can be said. There's nothing he can do, now.
Out into the hallway he goes stepping past Helm and Schmidt, the only two remaining from his intern class. They stare off at him in confusion as he takes his silent strides of respect off towards another hallway and wait to look at one another the moment he's out of sight.
Schmidt says, "I'm worried."
Helm responds, "Because you know this isn't over? Or because of the destruction that's about to follow?"
Detective Stone scoffs as she brushes past them and moves away in the opposite direction. The Hunt siblings are right behind her.
"Nothing is happening. I've shut down the whole operation." Says the sister.
Her brother adds, "Don't you two have work to do?"
Bold and bossy Helm and meek and mild Schmidt scatter. Her round cheeks turning rosy as she heads for the pit, and his anxious hands moving to feel the hair on his face as he heads for Dr. Sheppard and her patients.
Carlos rests on the floor by what was once a concession stand. This buried school went all in on their designs but made hardly little effort on the foundation. His head rests against a door and he's focusing on his breathing. The British chap pacing before him in the corridor above the pit. That tic refuses to leave either one of them alone.
Carlos is hearing things. Screams, as though they come from every where. They very well may be. Who knows what rests in that door over there leading into the gymnasium with the painted number; 2, across where both sides of the entry way meet in bold bright red. It's a nightmare, all of this. Even the foux trees seem to be staring at him and his thoughts revolve around the cuts in all of his arms and legs.
All of this feels like static. As though it was recorded on the other end of an old pair of earbuds. He draws in short breaths, his heart starts to pound, the echo of the tic is endless.
Suddenly Fabian Rutter is picking up some heavy statue thing that might have been a bird from near one of the benches in this corridor and he comes in at a boarded up space where the opening of the concessions might have been. Swing, after aggressive swing, all his strength is given out with each haul into the pieces of plaster and wood that come loose so vehemently. He starts to scream, mildly at first, and then it's repulsive as saliva comes streaming down his jaw from those exposed teeth and that tongue vibrates between two jaws like the rattle of a snake.
Carlos is on his feet, confused as to what he's supposed to do, then he's reaching out to touch the young man but comes up short for Fabian has done what needed to be done. The pointer finger of this British chap go out into the consession stand and he says, "It's a timer. It's counting down."
Of course, Fabian is correct. There's and hour and fifteen minutes left. What on earth could that mean?
Dr. Parker walks right up to Dr. Miranda Bailey and says, "You have two options. I can walk out of here right now and center everything I know on this suicide mission to change the world or you could talk to Meghan Hunt and get her to change her mind. I will always respect my superiors, Dr. Bailey, but I will not let go of what I've learned here about what it means to be willing to save a life. My skills could end an era but I am powerless here. Help me."
The two of them stand on the breezeway above the main lobby of the hotel. The night sky is behind the wall of glass to the left, most of the people down below on the right who roam the indoor garden and purchase from the coffee cart have gone home for the evening as visiting hours are over, and the chiefs office is on his shoulder. He stands his ground. He knows who he is and what he's been fighting for and if she wont listen he'll need to take matters into his own hands.
She nods, "Dr. Parker, I hear you. I will do what I can, this sounds awful serious and I feel like I should know a lot more than I do but you are needed with Helm in the pit. We have another incoming trauma. It's the winter season. Maybe you'll find a guy with a plastic tree in his stomach or someone got electrocuted by faulty lights and you'll get a good surgery to focus on while I find out what's going on. It's alright. Go on."
"Thank you chief." He says, then he's off to do as she suggested. All there is to now is wait.
