+18 - eps 22-27 - A case takes Russell and Brock to the brink of death. It'll be up to Gillian and the team to rescue them before they're killed by a white supremacist militia. And in the aftermath of the Paris attacks, the threat of a bio attack fo...
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Gillian hurried to Russell's room, where she found Aldana checking her Glock.
"You ready?"
"Bring it on."
"Stay sharp."
Gillian hurried back out and went to the nurse station, to instruct the night shift. On her way back to Brock's room, it felt great to hear Fred over the radio.
"We're around the corner, Reg."
She walked into Brock's room and paused to breathe deep. Her heart hammered her chest as she closed the door.
"I need some noise," she said on the radio.
"Just a minute," Tanya replied.
Gillian stood by the inner window, peering out through the closed blinds. From there, she could see the TV at the nurse station, showing a live broadcast from outside the church. At that very moment, the white hoods tried to breach the police barrier.
"Eyes on two subjects," informed an agent from the corner where the riot ensued. "Balken's not here."
"Allen, go," whispered Gillian.
The young man pretended to listen longer to his radio. Then he waved at the other agents and the four of them hurried away to the elevators.
"Good luck," he said on the radio as they got on a booth.
"Coming up," said Fred then. "Stairs and elevators."
Gillian drew her Glock and kept watching through the blinds. Now the cops and the details were gone, there was no way Balken would fight the temptation of taking his revenge, before joining his boys for some healthy riot.
The nurses kept their back to Brock's room, their eyes on the TV. All visitors had been sent home and the desert halls were quiet.
"In position," said Ron.
"In position," said Hank.
"In position," said Fred.
Gillian felt the sweat wetting her hands. Not a good moment to be that nervous. But she couldn't help thinking not only about Russell and Brock, but also all the helpless patients behind every door. There was no room for mistakes. Balken couldn't be allowed the slightest chance to do any harm to anybody.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a man came out of nowhere down the hall. Dressed as a janitor, he pushed a cart full of sheets, cool and relaxed, not a care in the word.
Gillian had a glimpse of his cunning smile and it worked as a bucket of cold water on her. Her heart did no longer drum in her chest; her hands were dry ad firm again. The simple sight of him blew anew the embers of her anger.
"He's here," she murmured on the radio.
Balken strolled past Brock's door and stopped between the nurse station and Russell's room. He took a moment to watch the news like the nurses, then asked them something, his thumb pointing at Russell's room.
"Heads up, Al," Gillian whispered.
"Let'im try," Aldana replied.
Just like Gillian told them to do, the nurses pretended not to notice he was a fake and answered his question. Balken smiled at them and grabbed a set of clean sheets from his cart.
Tell me about clichés, Gillian thought.
Before Balken took a single step closer to Russell, she yanked the door open and strode out.
"Right there, Ryan."
Her voice, loud according to hospital standards, woke up Brock. So he watched her stand at his doorway, her right arm stretched out, her Glock pointed ahead, silencer on. What was going on?
Balken turned to her, always smiling. "Hey, bitch. Thought I'd found you with your friend."
The very sound of his voice fueled her rage from embers to flames. "Aren't you a smart boy. Drop those sheets and raise your hands."
Balken scoffed. "Really."
That brief word was enough to muffle the soft click behind him, when Aldana noiselessly opened Russell's door.
"Do it," said Gillian to keep him distracted.
"Or what?"
Balken slid his hand between the folded sheets. The clear sound of Aldana cocking her Glock behind his head kept him still.
"Let me guess. Another scum lover."
"Damn right," she growled.
"Jeez, you bitches are legion."
The way Aldana kept an iron grip on herself, the only obstacle between Balken and Russell, helped Gillian do the same.
"Drop those sheets and raise your hands," she repeated.
Ron showed past the bend, only a few steps away from Aldana. Fred and Hank approached Gillian from the stairs.
Balken frowned. "Five to one? You guys suck." He still tried to sound mocking and confident. "Wait. Isn't there a song about it?"
"Yeah, it goes, 'I'd rather be with an animal'," replied Gillian. "Totally agree. Now do as you're told, sonny."
She saw it in his eyes: he'd made up his mind. His smirk faltered for a heartbeat and he yanked his hand out from under the sheet.
The muffle shoot made a dull noise.
Aldana bent over as Ron and Hank ran to her.
"Al! You okay?"
Fred lowered his rifle and approached Gillian. His hand was a firm weight on her shoulder. "It's over, Reg," he said in a calm tone.
Gillian quivered from head to toes at his voice and drew in a shaky breath. Her hand trembled slightly, still holding the Glock.
"Between the eyes, best Brockner way," said Hank, leaning over Balken's body. "Nice shot, Reg."
