A nurse ventured by, stopped for a second, and asked the paramedics, "What is it?" One of them handed her a form.
"So he's not bleeding," she said, as if nothing mattered except flowing blood.
"No. Looks like stress or shock or something. Runs in the family." "He can wait. Roll him to Intake. I'll be back in a minute." And she was off.
They wove the stretcher through heavy traffic, and stopped in a small room off the main hallway. The forms were presented to another nurse, who scribbled something without looking at Mark. "Where's Dr. Greenway?" she asked the paramedics.
They looked at each other, and shrugged at the nurse.
"You haven't called him?" she asked.
"Well, no." "Well, no," she repeated to herself, and rolled her eyes. What a couple of dumbasses. "Look, this is a war zone, okay. We're talking blood and guts. We've lost two people in that hallway right there in the past thirty minutes. Psychiatric emergencies do not get top priority around here." iuu want us to shoot him?" one of them said, nodding at Mark, and this really pissed her off.
"No. I want you to leave. I'll take care of him, but you guys just get the hell out of here." "You signed the forms, lady. He's all yours." They smiled at her, and headed for the door.
"Is there a policeman with him?" she asked.
"Nope. He's just a juvenile." They were gone.
Mark managed to roll onto his left side and bring his knees to his chest. The straps were not tight. His eyes opened slightly. A black man was lying across three chairs in one corner of the room. An empty stretcher with blood on the sheets was by a green door next to a water fountain. The nurse answered the phone, said a few words, and left the room. Mark quickly unhooked the straps and jumped to the floor. There was no crime in walking around. He was a nut case now, so what if she caught him on his feet.
The forms she'd been holding were on the counter. He grabbed them, and pushed the stretcher through the green door, which led to a cramped corridor with small rooms on both sides. He abandoned the stretcher and threw the forms in a garbage can. The exit signs led to a door with a window in it. It opened into the madhouse of Admissions.
Mark smiled to himself. He'd been here before. He watched the chaos through the window and picked the spot where he and Hardy had stood after Greenway and Dianne disappeared with Ricky. He eased through the door, and casually made his way through the snarled throng of sick and wounded trying anxiously to get admitted. Running and darting might attract attention, so he played it cool. He rode his favorite escalator to the basement, and found an empty wheelchair by the stairs. It was adult-size, but he worked the wheels and rolled himself past the cafeteria to the morgue.
GLINT HAD FALLEN ASLEEP ON THE SOFA. LETTERMAN WAS almost over when the phone rang. Reggie grabbed it. "Hello." "Hi, Reggie. It's me, Mark." "Mark! How are you, dear?" "Doing great, Reggie. Just wonderful." "How'd you find me?" she asked, turning off the TV.
"I called Momma Love and woke her. She gave me this number. It's Glint's place, right?" "Right. How'd you get to a phone? It's awful late." "Well, I'm not in jail anymore." She stood and walked to the snack bar. "Where are you, dear?" "At the hospital. St. Peter's." "I see. And how'd you get there?" "They brought me in an ambulance." "Are you okay?" "Great." "Why'd they take you in an ambulance?" "I had an attack of post-traumatic stress syndrome, and they rushed me over." "Should I come see you?" "Maybe. What's this grand jury stuff?" "Nothing but an attempt to scare you into talking." "Well, it worked. I'm more scared than ever." "You sound fine." "Nervous energy, Reggie. I'm scared to death." i mean, you don't sound like you're in shock or anything." "I recovered real quick. I faked them out, Reggie, okay? I jogged in my little cell for half an hour, and when they found me I was soaking wet and in bad shape, as they say." Glint sat up on the sofa and listened intently.
"Have you seen a doctor?" she asked, frowning at Glint.
"Not exactly." "What does that mean?" "It means I walked out of the emergency room. It means I've escaped, Reggie. It was so easy." "Oh my God!" "Relax. I'm fine. I'm not going back to jail, Reggie. And I'm not going to see the grand jury in New Orleans. They'll just lock me up down there, won't they?" "Listen, Mark, you can't do this. You can't escape. You must-" "I've already escaped; Reggie. And you know something?" "What?" "I doubt if anyone knows it yet. This place is so crazy, I doubt if they've missed me yet." "What about the cops?" "What cops?" "Didn't a cop go with you to the hospital?" "No. I'm just a kid, Reggie. I had two huge paramedics, but I'm just a little kid and at the time I was in a coma, sucking my thumb, moaning and groaning, just like Ricky. You'd have been proud. It was like something out of a movie. Once I got here, they turned their backs, and just like that, I walked away." "You can't do this, Mark." "It's done, okay? And I'm not going back." "What about your mother?" "Oh, I talked to her about an hour ago, by phone of course. She freaked out, but I convinced her I was fine. She didn't like it, told me to come to Ricky's room. We had a big fight over the phone, but she settled down. I think she's on pills again." "But you're at the hospital?" "That's right." "Where? In which room?" "Are you still my lawyer?" "Of course I'm your lawyer." "Good. So if I tell you something, you can't repeat it, right?" "Right." "Are you my friend, Reggie?" "Of course I'm your friend." "That's good, because right now you're the only friend I have. Will you help me, Reggie? I'm really scared." "I'll do anything, Mark. Where are you?" "In the morgue. There's a little office in the corner, and I'm hiding under the desk. The lights are off. If I hang up real quick, you'll know somebody walked in. They've brought in two bodies while I've been here, but so far no one's come to the office." "The morgue?" Glint bolted to his feet and stood beside her.
"Yeah. I've been here before. I know this place pretty well, remember." "Sure." "Who's in the morgue?" Glint whispered. She frowned at him and shook her head.
"Mom said they have a subpoena for you too, Reggie. Is this true?" "Yes, but they haven't served me. That's why I'm here at Glint's. If they don't hand me the subpoena, then I don't have to go." "So you're hiding too?" "I guess." Suddenly his end clicked and the dial tone followed. She stared at the receiver, then quickly placed it on the phone. "He hung up," she said.
"What the hell's going on!" Glint asked.
"It's Mark. He's escaped from jail." "He what!" "He's hiding in the morgue at St. Peter's." She said this as if she didn't believe it. The phone rang, and she snatched it. "Hello." "Sorry about that. The door to the morgue opened, then closed. I thought they were bringing in another body." "Are you safe, Mark?" "Hell no, I'm not safe. But I'm a kid, okay. And now I'm a psychiatric case. So if they catch me, I'll just go into shock again and they'll put me in a room. Then I'll figure out another way to escape, maybe." "You can't hide forever." "Neither can you." She marveled once again at his quick tongue. "You're right, Mark. So what do we do?" "I don't know. I really would like to leave Memphis. I'm sick of cops and jails." "Where do you want to go?" "Well, let me ask you something. If you come and get me, and we leave town together, then you could get in trouble for helping me escape. Right?" "Yes. I'd be an accomplice." "What would they do to you?" "We'll worry about that later. I've done worse things." "So you'll help me?" "Yes, Mark. I'll help you." "And you won't tell anybody?" "We may need Glint." "Okay, you can tell Glint. But nobody else, okay?" "You have my word." "And you won't try to talk me into going back to jail?" "I promise." There was a long pause. Glint was near panic.