Part 44 (1/2)
”They're trying to shoot out the lock. Do you have a pen, paper? I need you to take this down.”
”Y-yes.”
More thumping and rattling in the back.
Lillian squelched the urge to run. She had to pa.s.s on the message, even if she died. ”Write this down. Dixon runs the drug ring. Charles Leary is Scar. Talk to Arch Vandenberg on the Ettinger.”
The operator repeated back, her voice shaky.
Another shot, a thump, a crack, a slam of a door against a wall.
Oh no. They'd gotten out. Her breath raced.
A scrabbling sound. Two screams, two thumps. Hank and Shorty moaned and cussed. They must have slipped on the marbles. Good.
”I'm leaving now. Please. Send the police.” Lillian worked her way around the counter. To the door, to the door.
”The gun,” Hank groaned. ”Where's the gun?”
”Can't see.” Shorty cursed the broken flashlight.
Lillian found the doork.n.o.b, but it was stiff. ”Lord, help me!”
”Gotta get that clipboard. It's got our names on it. Where'd it go?”
More foul words. ”That girl. I'm gonna kill her.”
She strained her fingers to get a solid grip, and she leaned to the side to get enough rotation on the doork.n.o.b. There! It twisted open.
Outside at last, but hardly free. ”Police! Police! They've got a gun! Help me!”
She hopped down Main Street toward City Square, where people might be out this time of night, and she screamed for help.
A middle-aged gentleman poked his head out of a house, then pulled back in alarm.
She must look a sight, one-legged, tied up. ”Please, sir. Help me. They have a gun. Call the police.”
”Okay.” He darted inside, his door open, and a middle-aged lady peeked out.
Lillian hopped closer. ”Please, ma'am. Let me in. They're trying to kill me.”
She covered her mouth with one hand, then motioned Lillian to her with the other. ”Oh no. What did they do to you?”
Two men came running up Main from City Square. Police officers, guns drawn.
”Help me!” Lillian tried to wave with her bound hands. ”They're at Dixon's Drugs. Two men with a gun. There's a side door as well. Get them.”
They stopped and stared at Lillian. ”Ma'am, are you-”
”Get them!” She motioned with her head toward the store. ”They murdered that sailor this morning. Don't let them get away.”
”Yes, ma'am.” They ran up the street.
”Miss?” The middle-aged lady inched closer. ”What did they . . . what did they do to your leg?”
”They took off my pros-pros-my prosthesis.” Her breath quickened, racing out of control. ”Please. Please untie me.”
”Let's get you safe inside, honey.” She looped her arm around Lillian's waist and helped her to the steps of the house.
”I can't-I can't hop up stairs. I need-I need to sit.” Lillian turned and sat hard, b.u.mping her tailbone. ”Please. Please un . . . un . . .”
”Yes, honey.” Her voice cooed, and she worked on the knot in the twine. ”Everything's going to be all right now. Everything's going to be all right.”
Her hands free, Lillian hugged her knee and hunched over, her breath chuffing. She was going to live. She was actually going to live. ”Thank you. Thank you, Lord.”
43.
US Naval Hospital, Brooklyn, New York
Thursday, June 11, 1942
Pain awakened him. Deep, aching pain throbbed in his head.
Soft voices broke through, male and female, and the tinkling sound of silverware on tin plates.
Arch opened his eyes. A blur of muted whites, and he blinked to bring them into focus. White walls, pale white light through tall windows, and rows of white beds. A hospital.
How did he . . . ? Yes, on the Ettinger. The engine room. The sh.e.l.l from the U-boat. The shrapnel hitting him in the face.
His vision seemed flat-only from his right eye. He extracted his hand from under the blankets. A thick ma.s.s of bandages bound the top and the left side of his head.
They were wound too tight. The pain. His skull would crack like an overboiled egg.
He moaned and worked his fingers under the bandages to loosen them.
”Mr. Vandenberg?” A pretty brunette in a white nurse's uniform leaned over the bed. ”Good morning, sir. I'm Nurse Green.”
”Too tight. Hurts.”
The nurse pulled his hand away from the bandages. ”Would you like more morphine?”
After all he'd seen the past few months, his instinctual reaction was to refuse the drug, but the pain sickened him. ”Yes, please. And loosen the bandages.”