Finally, the bell over the elevator dinged, and I looked up as the silver doors, shining bright as mirrors, spread open before us. A doctor was already inside, and he gave me a politely bland look as he stepped out, like he was suppressing curiosity. He held his hand against the door for us to keep it from closing.
“Much obliged,” I said, trying to stop my teeth from clenching while positioning Ms. Dale to one side of the elevator to make room for Amber’s gurney. Cad slipped in beside me, followed by Thomas. The doctor withdrew his hand, turning his face away, and then, thankfully, headed out into the emergency area. I exhaled and hit the button for sub-basement three, the lowest level of the facility.
“What was he staring at me like that for?” I snapped as we went down. “Is part of my uniform on backwards or something?”
The rest of the crew gave murmured versions of I don’t know, but Thomas spoke up thoughtfully. “It is possible the man was surprised by the bruising on your face,” he suggested. “I doubt most EMTs work sporting such injuries.”
I huffed, thinking out loud. “We’ll have to say it was a domestic dispute, and things got violent.”
“Those things happen,” Cad said eagerly. “I knew a guy who was an EMT once. Some crazy stuff happens to them sometimes. Once he told me that—”
The door dinged, and Cad stopped halfway through his sentence, joining the rest of us in staring at the door as it opened. If there were people on the other side, they might very well question the plausibility of us descending to a level far, far from triage. It seemed the door couldn’t open fast enough—but finally, the metal wall drew back, and we saw an empty hallway.
As soon I nodded, Cad was moving. Turning the gurney, he pushed left down the hallway. Then I pushed Ms. Dale through, following Cad through the doors.
Violet’s cousin remembered the layout we’d studied in blueprints perfectly, navigating us confidently through the gray concrete hallways filled with pipes sprouting from the ceiling and humming electrical boxes scattered on the walls. This was the maintenance level, where the backup generators, oxygen controls, and water mains for the hospital were all located. Despite Thomas’ assurances these rooms did not have any security cameras, I carefully scanned the walls and ceilings as we moved.
This time he was right, and we made excellent time locating service room three. Cad flung open its door and wheeled Amber in. I followed quickly, with Thomas bringing up the rear and closing the door.
Once we were inside, Amber and Ms. Dale hopped off the gurneys, and from the storage space underneath them, we began pulling out the duffel bags we’d stowed our gear in. Within minutes, we’d all changed into respectable street clothes. The suit I was wearing was a bit too snug in the shoulders and crotch area, and the shoes pinched a bit, but it would have to do. I took a few painstaking moments to gather my hair into a ponytail, and then placed a pair of spectacles over my nose. The final touch was a round bowler hat atop my head.
I couldn’t be sure how I looked; I just hoped it was enough to make me unrecognizable to Cruz. I’d had my fair share of fame in the fighting world, so it was a risk. One I was prepared to deal with if things went south.
Tucking the gun I’d brought into the special holster at the base of my back, I added four extra clips into the holster’s built-in pockets, then took out the plastic box holding our video chip and slipped it into my back pocket. This one contained an edited version of Violet’s video that Thomas had cut together, hopefully making it more comprehensible to the public.
By the time I had finished, Ms. Dale and Amber had lined up their guns on a gurney and were in the only slightly ridiculous process of tucking them into various hidden pockets in their long, modest dresses. I tried not to stare, but not for the obvious reason—I’d had no idea how ingenious Patrian women’s clothing could be. How could a single dress fit so many weapons inside? I was never going to look at a conservatively dressed woman on the streets of Patrus the same way again.
“How do I look?” I asked them all, adjusting my spectacles.
Cad looked up first and gave a low wolf whistle. I gave him an incredulous look, and he shrugged and smiled. “It’s what my wife would’ve done.” I rolled my eyes, and turned to Ms. Dale and Amber.
Amber gave me the onceover, her eyes roaming up and down my body. “I mean… you’re not my type, but damn, do you make glasses work for you. Does Violet know this look exists? Because if she doesn’t, I’m going to have to tell her immediately.”
“I am not going to play dress-up for my fiancée,” I muttered.