Dixon had dozed off in his seat in the waiting room outside Steven Gibbon’s hospital room. He knew the officers at the door would let him know if there was any change in Gibbon’s condition. So, after a quick call to his girlfriend to let her know he’d be home sometime tomorrow, he nodded off, sure that the hardest part of his day was over.
He was wrong.
At approximately 1:00 AM, there was a loud crash from the end of the hallway, which jarred him awake. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked at the guards questioningly, but they were just as puzzled as he was. However, their confusion only lasted a few seconds as four armed men came around the corner, assault weapons drawn. Before the officers could even draw their weapons, the assailants opened fire, taking them both out. The nurse from the front desk hurried around from her station, a panicked expression on her face, and they shot her, too. Dixon ducked behind a chair. He was at least twenty yards away from the armed men, two of which entered Gibbon’s room, one keeping lookout, and the fourth was coming right toward him.
Dixon knew the chair was no protection against the weaponry this large man dressed all in black was carrying, but he hoped he could at least make himself a smaller target as he aimed his own handgun. Crouched on one knee, he pointed his revolver through the arm of the chair, took aim, and fired.
He was a great shot, and the bullet hit the assailant right between the eyes. However, he didn’t slow in his advance. Though there was a gaping wound in the man’s head, there was no blood, and as Dixon continued to fire, like a bad dream where the odds are stacked against the dreamer, the man kept coming, a menacing grin on his face.
Just then, a security guard came around the corner, his weapon drawn. The intruder dropped him quickly before he could even fire. Dixon took the opportunity to attack. He hurled himself at the man, attempting to knock the assault weapon away from him. Making contact was similar to hitting a brick wall, and Dixon felt the breath come out of his body. Though his adrenaline was pumping, he was suddenly in a lot of pain. And the assailant was no worse for the wear, flipping him onto the ground as if he were a cockroach. Dixon banged against the floor, feeling his ribs crack as he landed. He looked up into the snarling face of the enemy, realizing these were likely his last moments. But rather than shoot him at point blank range, the large man dropped down on top of him. With one hand, he pulled up on Dixon’s head, and with the other, he shoved his shoulder out of the way. Before Dixon knew what was happening, he felt a severe burning sensation in his neck. His body began to spasm as the beast sucked the life out of him, and just when he thought he couldn’t take the pain anymore, the brute stopped. Wiping the bright crimson blood from his mouth, the assailant laughed. Dixon couldn’t move, his body completely drained of energy. His hallow eyes stared up into the demonic face of a monster whose menacing laughter sounded like the growl of an animal.
Giovani stepped into Gibbon’s room accompanied by Preston and Howard. He knew no one would get past Meat and Martin in the hallway, but he wanted to make sure they worked quickly and efficiently; they needed to be gone before the police even left the station.
There were all kinds of cords and machines hooked up to Gibbon, who was still out and completely oblivious to what was happening to him. Giovani eyed the medical equipment momentarily before shrugging and beginning to tear cords out of the machines so that they could move him.
“He may need some of those things,” Howard whispered in his deep voice.
“Well, he’ll have to do without for a few minutes,” Giovani replied. “We can’t take it with us.”
Once Gibbon was free, Giovani took a moment to admire him. He was even more muscular in real-life than he had appeared to be on TV. Even while unconscious, he looked like a formidable foe, one who could rip Cadence Findley’s arms off and beat her with them; he smiled. “Let’s get him out of here, shall we?”
They had brought a litter with them so that they could get him up to the rooftop more quickly. Giovani stepped out of the way and the two large men hoisted Gibbon out of his hospital bed and onto the more mobile gurney as delicately as they could. He didn’t wake, but he did groan loudly, causing Giovani to warn them to be careful.
Giovani poked his head out into the hallway. Martin was standing near the corner back the way they had come, and he saw Meat at the other end of the hallway; everyone else was on the ground. “Any survivors?” Giovani called.
“Just this guy,” Meat called back. “Oh, and that nurse is still jerking around quite a bit.”
“Bring them,” Giovani replied, not really giving much thought to whether or not that was physically possible, even for the brute. Stepping over the fallen officers, he held the door as Preston and Howard made their way out of the room, carrying Gibbon.
Once in the hallway, Giovani assumed the lead, revolver in hand. As they came around the corner on the way to the elevator, a security guard ducked out from behind a vending machine, firing. He missed—but Giovani didn’t, and the middle-aged man dropped to the ground. Giovani stepped over him.
“I hate taking the elevator because I don’t want to get trapped in there, but I think it’s the fastest way,” Giovani mumbled as they made their way inside. It was a tight squeeze with so many big bodies, and so many nearly dead ones, but they made it work, and soon they were at the top floor.
As they exited, they could hear alarms going off all over the building. “Damn it,” Giovanni hissed. “Someone’s alerted the police.”
“We did make a little bit of noise,” Howard reminded him.
Giovani didn’t respond. Tanner already had the chopper started, and they hurried to load Gibbon inside. Zabrina had gone along with the group that had accessed the roof by climbing up the fire escape, along with Tanner, Martin, and Howard, the latter two of which had subsequently met the rest of the assault team downstairs. Now, she was standing between Giovani and the rooftop access door, assault rifle in hand, and he couldn’t help but think about how sexy she looked holding that semi-automatic weapon. He would have stopped to kiss her if he wasn’t in such a hurry.
Once Gibbon was inside the chopper, Meat tossed in the other two bodies. “Zabrina, come on!” Howard yelled. She was the only one small enough to fit in the back with the victims.
“Who are these other people?” Zabrina asked as she climbed aboard.
“Reserva de sange,” Giovani replied as he climbed into the front seat. “See you in a bit!” he yelled to Howard, Meat, Martin, and Preston. They shouldn’t have any trouble getting out of the hospital unless LIGHTS had shown up, and he was pretty certain they had no idea what was happening—not yet.
“Yes, sir,” Howard called, slamming the door closed and stepping back out of the way.
Giovani gave the signal, and Tanner took the bird up into the air. As they took off, Giovani caught a glimpse of the rooftop door bursting open, and two more security guards fell as Howard and his team opened fire.
