Chapter 4
Fifteen minutes later, St. John peeled off his helmet as he stomped up to plexiglass doors near a loading dock that went virtually silent after 3:15 every day.
This time he had to part a sea of security guards and squint against flood lights and blue and yellow flashers.
"Hey Dr Jackson. You haven't seen red head kid sneaking around here tonight, have you?" It was Sylvester. Journeyman security guard who aged way beyond being able to tackle criminals twenty years ago. A shock of white poked from under his tight hat.
"Just got here, Syl. Is security clogging up the halls?" He charged through the door. Sylvester jogged at his heel.
"Not the way you're going doc. Poor kid nosed around the morgue. Lost his whole family... But hospital will be sued if we let kids run around in restricted area." Sylvester fell behind St. John's trot. "Red head. About twelve or thirteen. Goes by the name Bowen. Let us know if you spot him."
St John turned sharp right as the plop of Sylvester's clunky boots faded.
Ahead, lay one hundred and seventy five feet of pristine hallway. This hallway brought him back to the fantasy he had as an amateur boxer in his teens. St John skipped like a warrior going in to fight the heavyweight championship. The embedded LED lights crashing into harsh white walls were his spotlights.
"One life at a time," He said, and slapped his badge against the sensor that swung the door open.
Nothing happened.
"Hey." The voice rang smooth and powerful like a soul singer.
St. John pivoted and jumped. His back slammed into the steel door. "Nona. What the..."
She paralyzed him with her eyes as she had hundreds of times before. "St John, save my sister."
"I need to go to your sister to save your sister." His feet rooted in place. "I can't do this with you now. What happened between us..."
"What happened between us is not the point. Go save her... even if it doesn't make sense to try." She slammed her hands into his chest and drove him back. St. John staggered backwards through the door.