Chapter 45 - Svetlana II

   When you wake up in the hospital? If you know you're in the hospital, well... you didn't get hurt that bad, really.

   I'm being serious. More than once? I'm just, what. Doing my thing, going about my day. Next thing I know? There I am. I know about dog shit, other than my eyes are coming open. I'm waking up. Not like its the first time I've done this.

   Hospitals. Always the same. Your eyes creep open, with no one around. Soft noises? But, no commotion. I've conferred with Panic on hospital waking up. We, being me and Panic, agree on ninety percent of the hospital waking up scenario. First off? If you actually got hurt, not like you realize your peepers are opening in the hospital.

   You get a bunch of clues things aren't right? But, you're just waking up. The hell do you know. Now in my defense, I used to live for many years? In a one room sort of motel cum apartments deal. This means, that many things about my hospital room, and my motel apartment in Washington DC... are identical.

   Let's compare. About fifteen by fifteen feet. Both my efficiency apartment and the hospital sport this TV. Flat screen, mounted on some bracket. Home and at the hospital both? There's some metal high school door, and that's the bathroom. There's a sink and shower in both of them. They're not so different. When I finally "wake up" to fully realize what the hell is going on. And by that, I really mean... I realize I'm in a hospital.

   Doesn't happen all at once. Personally, my first clue? Is the beeping. Gently open my eyes, this infernal beeping. Now. When you wake up, from all of the... whatever in the hell they even give you in all those shots in the emergency room. I mean, they poke your skin all over, left and right with all manner of shit. Saline solution IV, that's a big poke in your arm. Of course, they have to knock you out. There's a shot. There's also a paralytic shot.

   I mean, if someone is bound and determined to stitch up the artery in your shoulder. Its been nicked by shrapnel. And, that's your main issue. The paralytic is great. The patient or victim, doesn't jump around. To the doctor, not much happened. A projectile. Usually metal. Goes at a thousand or more feet per second. It just knocks you on your ass, and you really don't think or realize its even happening, when it happens.

   This is the second time I got shot. Of course, I got shot in the shoulder. I always get shot in the shoulder. The same motherfucking shoulder, don't you know. Couldn't anyone be a sport and shoot me in, like, the other shoulder? Oh, that's right. You get tagged in the shoulder when they miss your lungs and heart. Because its amateur hour.

   I mean, I was doing? Really really good. I'm paired up with Elise. We're in the car together. Backup. Our job is simple. Take the front of the big old stone house. There's only a couple, several guys here. No big deal. Probably won't even get any. Then? All hell broke lose.

   Shooting had started long ago, the gang of men in the back. Taking harassment fire at this big old stone house. The basic idea was that at zero dark thirty, out of nowhere, they would begin getting shot at. And, they did. The unfortunate thing, was that there weren't a couple to several guys in and around the perimeter. There was a lot more for some reason.

   Svetlana's map was about perfect. Three story big stone square. Almost a mansion, but so basic. Normal security was supposed to be pretty basic. Four guys at the four corners of the big stone rectangle. Simple, but effective. Plus a couple of guys inside.

   Last time I took flank for Panic, I had been given a pump shotgun with an extended tube. I carried an extra round to clap in, so I got an extra shot. I practiced raking the slide and holding the trigger, to spray across a field of fire quickly, dumping across the crowd. I would then pop down, reload and pop up in a new spot. My pump shotgun, had a trigger modification. So I could just hold the trigger and rake the slide. Something to do with the sear, or sear retention. I don't know, not my department. To me? I sear a steak.

   So this time I got to get whatever I wanted. A lot of guns get nicknamed "The Street-sweeper". But, its an actual model of a compact semi automatic shotgun. If you've ever had one of those accessory rotary clips for some semi 22 rifles? Same concept. Short 12 gauge barrel, compact action. Usually fed with a semi automatic trigger pull. Mine was a short barreled shotgun, class III, so at that point if you're going class III anyways? Might as well add in fully automatic fire control.

   The accessory magazine is 100 rounds. What, like four boxes of 12 gauge shells load in this thing and feed as fast as you can pull the trigger. We went with buckshot. I honestly just aim rough from the hip and pull the trigger, painting the target area back and forth, and that's on semi. On full automatic? Something like 4 or 5 rounds a second. I could hear all the confusion in the earpiece, that intelligence was wrong, and there were a number of armed men in the structure.

   Me and Elise were to hit anything that came in to help them inside, or get anyone trying to come out the front door. I left her out front after we shot at men trying to come out. Hearing all the unexpected confusion, I walked over to the front door after getting nothing for a little while after we had already lit it up.

   Front door was pushed almost closed, so I just nudged it with my foot and peeked around the corner with my short barrel going with me. I ducked back having seen several guys in that room. I heard a couple shots, then went to peek again and opened up. A tiny appearance of something on a thin angle, spray painting buckshot back and forth across the room.

   When I peeked again, nothing was up. There was some movement out of a couple guys laying down, slow and feeble. Anything moving got a couple rounds of 12 gauge buckshot again. Then, I peeked down and went and did the same thing on the next room. Here's the layout. Two giant rectangular smokestacks for the fireplaces, in two locations a ways apart inside. This created a natural nine room layout. Three down the right side, three down the left side, and three in the middle.

   Doors from each room in the 3 x 3 room grid. Some are open, some closed. Of those closed, some are locked and some aren't. This makes for a maze-like layout you navigate through. Looking for the room you want searching? You expect a piece of cheese at the destination. I made it to the third room off the thin hallway, on the right side from front door entry.

   The boys had hit the back door when they made entry, so that's where I could hear all the hell and confusion in real life, as well as all the cross-talk on my earpieces. My earpieces act like earmuffs automatically when shooting, so I don't get my eardrums physically hurt.

   I waited for my turn to talk. Shortly after hitting the front door after me and Elise suppressed it, I announced front entry. I wasn't supposed to, so I got cussed at. Didn't even phase me. I cleaned out the first two rooms, and announced it after each. This took heat off of the shit storm going on in the back three rooms across the back wall of the house. It was when I hit the third room, that I encountered real resistance.

   Bricks and plaster exploded all around me when I peeked around that door. I didn't even stick my head around again. I just poked the short barrel around and moved it around a bit on full automatic. I did it several times.

   You know you're getting low by weight. A hundred rounds of 12 gauge is several pounds I think. The big box magazine that sits sideways on the middle below and up into the action, has a wide belt clip welded on. When I got a dull clack meaning empty, I unhooked the one on my right side off, dropped and switched. I put a few more around the corner, when more brick chips and puffs of plaster zinged around.

   That was from one of the middle rooms. I went back up the thin hallway poking in on each room I got fire from as I went back towards the front door I had came in at. I waved out the front door, Elise will know its me. I slipped out the front door, looked around like I was crossing the street and looking both ways like your parents teach you. I went to zip across the street back to the cover and backup that the car presented.

   Movement off to my right. I swiveled towards that on autopilot. That got his attention on me. Which allowed Elise to fire at him. I was firing too, and I remember feeling like I got beaned with a fast pitch in my shoulder. It rocked my shoulder back, and stunned me. Bricks and some kind of cement stucco went off near me, so I went forwards across the front of the house to get away from what had appeared behind me.

   Elise shot at them, I was peeking on the front of the house. Trying to keep glancing towards the back. I only saw friendly movement. I took turns taking shots when anything was going on at the front of the house. If Elise opened up on the other side wall from where I was? When I heard her quit I peeked around, and took a few shots if there was movement. My strong arm got weak.

   I switched to my other arm, and I realized I was dizzy. I slid down to sit. Everyone's busy right now. I need somewhere to hole up now until its convenient to escort me out. I managed to get up and ease my way towards the friendly movement in the back, but now I saw no movement. They were all inside by now. There was a metal door on the ground, covering a regular basement door. The storm door was unlocked though, and I lifted it up and crawled down. I had a little hole I was safe in. The steel basement door was locked.

   I waited for a break in the ear action, and announced I had a shoulder injury, and was holed up in some kind of trapdoor to the basement steps. I sat down quiet. Not like I expect to be a damsel in distress or anything. I remember closing my eyes, just for a few seconds to get my wind back. The next thing I know, its Panic shaking me and helping me up and out of my little animal den I had crawled into. I remember thinking this was like Vladimir. An animal hiding in its den.

   I was stumbling along dutifully, when I don't remember anything else. I woke up in the safe-house, with some guy in a white coat working on me. He had what looked like a pair of scissors in each hand, but one looked like needle noise pliers and the other like something that trimmed nails. I felt snipping and pulling from my shoulder, but I was groggy and it barely registered. I got poked again with a needle, and went back out.

   I woke up with a sore shoulder, and a confused head. I could glance down and see bandages over stitches. Once I got some water and a little time passed? I was just stiff and sore and in general pain.

   I remember talking to the doctor, surgical student, whatever he was. I got pain pills and antibiotics. He said I had antibiotic shots and pain shots, but as that wore off switch to the pills. I figured I was fine now, other than discomfort.

   I remember going to the club and everything there. I got a little dizzy a couple times, but I recovered. I didn't think much of it. Then, I have no idea why I swooned, and... I wake up in the hospital. I guess something closed off inside my shoulder, either was missed or came open again, but only inside. It created a slow loss that was hard to notice. By the time I was starting to weep out of the closed stitches? I started to get dizzy.

   The hospital staff cut the stitches, opened and went in and re-checked everything. They found the little leak, and corrected it. So I got stitched again. I have to say, I much prefer to get shot by a handgun, instead of a hunting rifle like last time. I compared them even, both were in the meat of the outside of my shoulder, through meat and not bone.

   Like I didn't have a scar already, my right shoulder now looks like hell. I guess it goes well enough with the tracheotomy scar and my deep rusty voice that gave me. Asked what happened, I looked around and had just woken up. I just said I didn't know. I don't know what the score is, so I'll say nothing until I get to ask someone what to say.

   They said based on what they found, it looked like someone had given me field surgery, and actually did a good job. The leak opening up or missed in the first place? Happened in the emergency room sometimes. It was what observation was for, so they could monitor for those routine occasions.

   After a day and a half, they said it took and I should be fine now. I got more antibiotics and pain pills, and a little sling for my arm. I didn't get teased any more than any of the other guys did, and certainly not less. I asked Panic when we were alone how I did. He said I did fine.

   They got less and less resistance, and made their way upstairs to the bedroom office he was holed up in. They found Svetlana cowered down beside the bed. Apparently after it was over and they were touring the place to make sure, Rob said something like... oh my lord, it looks like the holocaust. This, in reference to the two and almost three rooms I had worked through on my way back to the guys taking unexpected and heavy resistance. Then, I hit the first two middle rooms on the other side on my way out. I don't know. I know I broke a hundred, but never finished the second accessory magazine. A hundred and fifty, give or take rounds of 12 gauge buckshot, at close ranges on grouped up targets? Okay, that was my own little holocaust.

   I already knew what to call it, the mess inside the rooms. I've heard Panic say it before.

   Paint the devil on the wall.

   I guess I came in behind the biggest group of people, and they were mostly on that side of the house. Everyone acted like it was a big help, and I felt okay after that. I originally felt like a burden because I got hit, but apparently just announcing I was hit, then finding a place to hole up was considered class A material.

   Dean got grazed in his left thigh for the other injury, not as bad as mine. Cauterization and stitches on his were more straightforward and got completed on the first pass.

   It was joked that I had to go back for "warranty work".

   I slept most of the flight back in the little executive Pullman sleeper compartment, next to Panic.