Kronos

11

Portsmouth Hospital

With the night came a quiet stillness that made it difficult for Atticus to ignore his surroundings. The slight apple scent in the air assaulted his memory. Maria lying in bed. Her last breath. The feeling of his insides shaking with fear as her body convulsed, then lay still. Her room had been nearby…perhaps on the floor above. He wasn’t sure, but this was where she had died; this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. In fact, there was only one place he wanted to be at all, and that was on the ocean, hunting that thing down.

He stuck his head out the window and took in the side of the hospital. The brick building rose straight and flat, but around the windows, grooved designs had been created with the brickwork. They’d make nice hand and footholds. Then there was the brick windowsills-only about five inches deep, but wide enough to stand on. Fifteen feet to his left, the hospital wall jutted out to the right for five feet and continued beyond his field of vision. His eyes scanned the outer corner, where a pattern of bricks, protruding two inches each in a staggered formation, ran toward the ground-a sorry excuse for architectural aesthetics but useful for scaling the side of the building. The brick pattern ended five feet above the bushes that rimmed the parking lot.

Atticus figured the bricks didn’t run all the way to the ground because some kid might get the idea to climb up the side of the building after seeing Spider-Man. But the hospital’s architect hadn’t considered anyone’s climbing out a window.

After climbing onto the sill, Atticus crouched in the window, judging the distance to the next sill over. There was one window between him and the brick ladder. He’d have to jump. His heart began to beat faster, his muscles burning with adrenaline. He looked down again at the five-story drop then back to the windowsill. It was a two-foot jump, not very far, but the narrow sill didn’t give him a margin for error. If he missed, he’d join his family in death. What that would look or feel like, he had no idea. He’d never considered it, not even after Maria died. But now…where were they? Atticus clenched his jaw, pushing such thoughts out of his mind. He could wrestle with death after he finished with the creature.

With that, he leapt.

He crossed the two-foot divide with ease, planting his left foot, then his right, onto the adjacent sill. He flattened his body against the window glass and caught his breath…then saw his reflection in the window and smiled.

Spider-Man indeed.

The room on the other side of the window suddenly filled with light. He saw a shadow moving on the other side. He quickly gazed back and judged the distance to the corner. He could make it. His legs tensed for the jump.

The shades were flung open.

Atticus found himself staring into the eyes of the last person he expected to be in the next room over-Andrea Vincent. Her eyes were wide. At first she appeared terrified, but after gazing into his eyes for a moment, mouthed, “Atticus?”

He’d been caught.

It was during that moment of distraction that Atticus failed to notice the sound of grinding mortar. The brick beneath his right foot gave way and tilted at an angle. The sudden jolt caused Atticus to lose his footing. He fell straight down.

His hands slapped hard against the sill, tingling with pain, but held firm. Atticus was dangling five stories up from a windowsill with a penchant for falling apart. He heard the window above slide open and the sound of a knife tearing through the metal screen but focused on his footing. Using his strong abdominal muscles, Atticus pulled his legs up so that his toes pressed flat against the wall. His fingers strained, digging down into the small space between the sill and the bricks, struggling for purchase.

“Atticus?” The voice was shaky, tinged with fear. “What the hell are you doing?”

He looked up and found Andrea’s eyes burrowing into his. Her face was twisted with concern. He just stared up at her, silent.

She must have sensed his legs tensing. “Don’t.”

Atticus looked back to the corner. It was six feet away, but in his current position, all squished like a spring, the leap shouldn’t be a challenge for a six-foot-two man.

“I can help you,” Andrea said, sounding desperate.

“The best thing you can do,” Atticus said, “is stay out of my way.”

Andrea pursed her lips tightly. “Please…”

Then he was airborne, sailing out over the five-story drop like a fearless flying squirrel. And just as a squirrel clings to a tree, Atticus found himself clutching the corner of the hospital. His left hand and foot found holds; then, he swung his body around the corner and found a brick for his other hand and foot. He gave one last look to Andrea, her black hair blowing in the wind, dancing around her worried face.

Then it hit him.

“Why are you here?” he asked, forgetting for the moment that he was hugging the side of a building.

“The room was empty.”

“What?”

Andrea paused, her face flushing. She wanted tell him the truth-that she’d always regretted losing him and that she had never stopped wondering about him, how his life had turned out, if they would ever see each other again. She stared into his eyes, unable to find any words.

Atticus smiled. Andrea had never been short on words, yet here she was, mute. At first he thought she had changed dramatically, become mousey for some reason, but the redness in her cheeks betrayed embarrassment over the unspoken answer, which suddenly struck him as obvious. There she was, hanging out of a window, looking like some damsel in distress, and she was worried for his well-being-a man she hadn’t seen in twenty years. Or was it more? Perhaps the Coast Guard simply assigned her to keep an eye on him?

Her eyes continued staring into his, conveying the message her mouth could not form.

This had nothing to do with the Coast Guard.

A gust of wind caused Atticus to tighten his grip. A brief fear of falling took his eyes away from hers, but his grip remained secure. He looked at her again, this time allowing his frown to convey a silent message of his own. Sorry.

His hands and feet burst into action, and he began a rapid descent. He glanced up one last time. Andrea was no longer in the window.

He doubled his pace.

Andrea hadn’t waited for the elevator, hadn’t even pushed the button. She barreled down the staircase, taking two stairs at a time. What is he thinking? Does he want to get himself killed?

She entered the lobby in just under forty seconds, a much faster time, she believed, than Atticus could have made his way safely down the side of the building. Of course, she realized the he could have fallen the rest of the way and beat her by a long shot. He could already be dead.

She blew past the bewildered receptionist and burst out of the air-conditioned hospital and into the summer humidity that smelled of seawater and roses. She turned left and kept running without missing a beat. She looked up, spotted the two open windows, and headed toward them.

Her eyes followed her room to the small corner down which Atticus had climbed. She searched the corner up and down, but the silhouette of a climbing man eluded her. Before she reached the bottom, her view was blocked by a tall line of lilac bushes. She continued forward, but moved out and away from the hospital, increasing her angle of sight.

For the briefest moment she thought she saw a shape clinging to the lowest portion of the corner, but then it was gone. She nearly shouted his name, but, knowing she’d alert the media, held her tongue and quickened her pace.

She reached the corner, panting. No one was there.

A black cargo van sat five feet away. The lights were off, the engine silent. Most likely a news van, but she saw nowhere else he could have hidden. She doubted he could have arranged a pickup…they’d have sped away if that were the case. But still…

Approaching the van slowly, she reached out and took hold of the back-door handle. She depressed the button and gave it a yank. Locked. She made her way around and checked the other handles. All locked. She rested her hand on the hood of the van. The night air was warmer. The van had been there for some time.

She gave one last look around. He’d vanished like an apparition.

No, she thought, like a SEAL.