Roulette
Chapter Five, "Delirious" by Brianna Bissell
I blankly stared at Schmidt, watching his fiery eyes and his lips move as he began to strategize. How is he still connected with the government? Why was he not allowed… I was hit in the head by Rufus.
“Are you listening? Do you think it will work?”
I hadn’t listened to a word Schmidt said. I was still amazed that he was even alive.
“I’ll be right back” Rufus says, and quickly leaves the room.
“Where is he going?” Schmidt doesn’t answer.
Rufus returns twenty minutes later wearing scrubs and a lab coat with the nametag Dr. McGomery. He has another pair of scrubs and hands them to me.
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Put them on you idiot! Honestly I don’t know how you claim you went to Yale” Rufus snarls.
I quickly put them on. They obviously belonged to someone twice my size because I was swimming in them.
“Okay so here’s the plan,” says Schmidt. “Rufus is going to suggest that I have further tests done to check for any unnoticed internal injuries. You both will wheel me down to the second floor where we will go in an empty hospital room. If anyone asks I have been moved to a different room to recover from an operation. There I will change into your clothes.” He nods to me. “I will then look like a visitor and exit the building. Rufus said you both came in a Mustang. He told me where you parked it. I will bring the car around to the corner of the next block. We will meet there. I have somewhere we can go for a temporary hideout.”
“Do you think this could possibly work?”
“Will you just keep your damn mouth shut. I am getting a headache from your stupidity. Of course it will work, besides we have no other plan. Can you come up with a better plan? After all you’re the supposed genius, ‘you graduated from Yale’. Huh… did I hear something? Yea didn’t think so, so keep your mouth shut.”
I returned his comment with a scowl. Who the hell does he think he is? I raised my hand about to punch him…
“Winston you idiot! Now is not the time. That is just what we need, for you to create a seen.”
I lowered my harm and slowly unclenched my fist. We began to roll Schmidt out of the room and towards the end of the hall. There was still some commotion from the accident so people seemed to pay little attention to us. We were almost to the elevator when I nurse stopped us. She was a large woman with squeaky voice. Her breathing was heavy and uneven and it seemed like he gasped for air with every breath she took. She got really close to Rufus and peered at his nametag.
“Uh… Dr. McGomery is it. I haven’t seen you around before. What are you doing with Chase Keller? He just woke up from after surviving a horrific car accident. He should be resting. I was the nurse that was assigned to his case.”
“You do not recognize me because I am from the lab on the second floor. I was sent to get Chase Keller so we could run further tests on him” Rufus responded.
“Well I can wheel him down to the lab for you” she said in a high pitched squeal.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Rufus. “I will notify you if I need any further assistance.”
“Oh no, it would be my pleasure to help,” she says and draws another breath that seems as if it could suck all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. She takes a step toward the bed where Schmidt lies, pretending to be sleeping. Rufus is quickly loosing patience.
“No!” Rufus yells. The nurse is taken aback. She looks startled and quickly takes two more gasping breaths of air. He starts to enter the elevator. I quickly help push Schmidt inside. “Honestly I’m fine thank you,” Rufus assuredly adds. The elevator doors begin to close as we hear the nurse take another gasping breath. The doors open on the second floor. Much to our luck the hall of the labs mostly looks deserted, besides a few doctors who are too buried into their files to notice. We wheel Schmidt into an empty room. There he changes into my clothes. Rufus then hands him the keys to his mustang.
Schmidt adds, “Okay so leave five minutes after I do, but no later. Who knows when they will realize that I am truly missing. I will get the mustang and meet you on the next corner block.”
We both nod our heads in agreement and Schmidt shuffles out of the room. We leave five minutes later. When we get to the first floor we hear some buzz about one of the patients. Rufus and I look at each other with worried expressions and hurry out of the hospital. When then sprint to the next block where the Schmidt is waiting with the mustang. When we reach the car, I bend over wheezing. Damn cigarettes. We hopped in the mustang and Schmidt began to drive.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My friend has a place we can temporarily crash until we can come up with another plan,” Schmidt responded.
There was a momentary pause in the car. I pulled out a broken cigarette and lit it.
Rufus looks over at Schmidt and asks, “We saw you die that night in Ovingskora. We thought you were dead and then we find your picture on the internet years later. What happened?”
“I already told you” Schmidt responded short-tempered. “The Russian government discovered the operations of the lab in Arizona. They have me an ultimatum and threatened to kill me if I contacted you.”
“So you were given a false identity and told to forget about the Arizona lab operation?” asked Rufus.
“Kind of…” Schmidt responded, trying the brush off further questions. He changed the subject. “Dammit the car is almost out of gas. There is a station a little ways up ahead. We can stop there. I have to make a phone call anyway. Then my friend’s house is only a few miles away from the station. We should make it before dusk.”
We arrived at the gas station. I got out of the car and stretched. While Schmidt pumped the gas, I went in to buy more cigarettes. I went back to the car. Schmidt was now inside making a phone call.
“Do you think Schmidt is acting a bit strange?” Rufus asked.
“I don’t know… I think he is just exhausted after everything today. We will ask him more questions in the morning.”
Schmidt returned to the car. “Like I said, we are not much further from the house.”
* * * * * * * *
We pull up to a one-story house at the dead end of the street. The paint on the house is chipped and the grass needs to be cut. There are old flowerpots overgrown with weeds. The sun is setting and a dim streetlamp has come one. The curtains in the windows are drawn, making it impossible to peer in. We arrive at the door and Schmidt makes three loud taps on the door. There is some shuffling inside and what seems to be a minute later, the door is opened. Two burly, tall men stand at the door. They allow us to enter. Inside the room is lit by a dim lamp. I look around the room but I am barely able to make anything out. There is one man sitting in a chair in what appears to be the living room. The room is filled with smoke.
Then the man in the chair says with a thick Russian accent, “Good job Schmidt, you got them here.” I turn around to look a Schmidt when the fist of one of the burly men connects with my face, and I hit the cold, hard ground.