Target To Save

Chapter 8 - December 13, 2015

A long hallway, gray and dirty, people rushing past in panic, sat in a crumbling building, like the buildings beside it and the buildings beside them. It sat in a crumbling city, desperately trying to fix itself. It sat in a country on the brink of a civil war, one that would never happen, but would always be a threat.

And in that long forgotten hallway Dr. Ryan marched with her head held high, dark shadows under her eyes, and her coat bloody. She was eighteen, ready to save the world, and too old to do it.

Medical carts flew by, and she fluttered out of the way, her heels clicking on the sticky, molding floor. The nurses who lingered by the doorways whispered to each other, pity in the eyes, but Dr. Ryan paid them no mind. She had better things to do than pity herself.

She made it to her closet that was forced into an office. She opened the door, sighing ready to take the less than white coat off, when a figure sitting at her desk snagged her eye.

The woman was out of place in the cluttered office, in the crumbling building, in the burning city. Her clothing was clean, her nails were delicately painted, and her posture perfect.
"Excuse me, but I'm afraid this office is off limits. Mrs. Nacy would love to help you at the front desk. Why don't I show you where it is?" A half smile fluttered on Dr. Ryan's lips as she gestured to the door. She would be polite, but her break had just started, and she needed to eat lunch and take a quick nap, not entertain some guest.

The woman's face was shadowed by a large hat, her outfit was pristine, the kind of outfit that you'd never see in the hospital, on the streets, on an honest worker. The hairs on Dr. Ryan's neck stood up, she straightened her back.

"Mrs? Nok wonder." The woman trailed off, shadows dancing in the background, "Love's ae gateway to mistakes."

"I'm very sorry." Dr. Ryan took half a step forward, almost crossing the room, not letting the Reivel take her by surprise, "That sounds like a very lonely way to live." Her voice was soft, her words carefully cut, but she didn't dare lay a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. Assassins had been sent out for less.

Besides, the woman in front of Dr. Ryan didn't need assassins to terminate her. Why would the leader of the Bleeding Hearts let someone else kill her target?

"Don't be. Attachments bring chaos, which is something Iy try to avoid." The hat swiveled, and Dr. Ryan imagined a nose scrunching up beneath the shadow. The light flickered, leaving them in darkness for just a second and chills raced across her shoulders. The lights fluttered back on.

"I'm sorry, but you still can't be back here." Dr. Ryan's stomach twisted, her heart was beating faster and faster, her fingers were still. The exhaustion that held her shoulders gave way to the adrenaline that coated her fear.

The woman laughed. It was as graceful as a dancer and as deadly as she looked. "But youe, myi child, live in chaos. Welcome it. Youe are surrounded by this grime that grows like tumors. This is supposed to be ae hospital not ai playground for the sick."

Dr. Ryan's back straightened, and she gripped her notebook tighter. Someone was crying outside of the room, people were dying, and the woman still dared to mock. "Ma'am with all due respect, people come here for help. And that's what we do. We help people, no matter how dirty our facilities are."

"Ki?" She sounded amused, and Dr. Ryan inched closer to the door, to the wailing children, to the sobbing mothers, the lost who had wandered in seeking shelter from the fire. "And did they help youe?"

Shadows like fingers reached over Dr. Ryan's shoulders, their nails trailing lightly up her neck. Her heart stopped, the wild howled, rats whispered in the walls, but the woman didn't stop. She pulled a letter out of her bag, an old government paper with a stamp that taunted Dr. Ryan. "Did they help youe when youer husband was assassinated?"