Boston Run

Chapter Nine

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Berwin stepped quickly to the doorway and saw Jennings in Doctor Milton’s grasp. The kindly physician’s features were contorted in fury, and he was shaking the janitor violently.

“Answer me, damn you!” Milton barked.

Jennings’s eyes were wide, his face a mask of terror. The broom had dropped to the floor. “Sweeping!” he replied fearfully. “I was just sweeping!”

“We don’t require your services today, you dolt!” Milton hissed. “Who gave you permission?” He suddenly became aware of Berwin’s presence and immediately added, “Don’t say a word yet. We’ll get to the bottom of this shortly.” With a visible effort he composed his raging emotions and released the janitor. “Pick up your broom.”

Jennings promptly obeyed.

“Is there a problem?” Berwin asked. “The man was just cleaning my room.”

Doctor Milton cleared his throat and studied the giant’s countenance.

“Was that all?”

“What do you mean?” Berwin responded, intentionally sounding puzzled by the question.

“This is a special floor. When we have patients such as yourself, our nurses attend to the cleaning chores. We don’t want our patients inadvertently disturbed. The janitors are only permitted on this floor when we don’t have patients,” Milton explained.

Berwin shrugged. “No harm done.”

“Did he talk to you?” Milton inquired.

“We chatted a bit,” Berwin said, and he saw Jennings gulp and blanch.

“What about?” Milton questioned gruffly.

“Oh, about how he likes working days instead of nights, and about how he likes this job much better than whatever his last one was,” Berwin answered with an air of innocence.

“That was all?”

“He mentioned how happy his wife is,” Berwin said. He almost grinned at the relieved expression on the janitor.

“Nothing else?” Milton pressed him.

“That was it,” Berwin responded. “I wasn’t upset by the conversation at all.”

The physician glanced at Jennings, then at Berwin. “Okay. You’re right, of course. No harm has been done. I apologize for flying off the handle, but you must appreciate my position. Many of my patients are undergoing delicate treatment, and the most innocuous comment could jeopardize my therapy by triggering a relapse.”

“I understand,” Berwin assured him.

“Good. Then why don’t you wait in your room while I escort Mister Jennings from the ward?”

“Fine,” Berwin said, and moved to the bed. He mentally counted to ten, then darted to the doorway and peered out.

Doctor Milton and Jennings were just going around a corner down the corridor to the right. He checked to insure the hallway was empty, then dashed after them, padding to within five feet of the junction, where he halted with his back to the wall. From past the corner came an angry voice, Milton’s.

“—in a cell and throw away the key! You stupid son of a bitch! You could have ruined all our work!”

“I didn’t do nothin’!” Jennings replied timidly. “Honest, Colonel. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Then whose is it?”

“The guard’s.”

“Hey, asshole, don’t blame me,” a new voice interjected, evidently the guard’s.

“You waved me on,” Jennings said.

“Like hell I did,” the guard snapped.

“Tell me what happened,” Milton ordered.

Berwin listened intently, his eyes roving up and down the corridor.

“I got off the elevator and saw the guard talkin’ to Nurse Schmidt at the desk,” Jennings detailed. “I said ‘Janitor,’ and he gave a little wave of his hand, like I was supposed to do the cleaning today.”

“Bull!” the guard declared. “I waved you off. You were supposed to get back in the elevator and leave.”

“Didn’t you notice him walk by you?” Milton asked, an edge to his tone.

Berwin heard the guard cough.

“No, sir.”

“Why not?” Milton inquired harshly.

“I assumed he’d get back on the elevator and leave,” the guard said.

“You assumed?” Milton repeated.

“Yes, sir. Jennings should’ve known we have a patient on the floor,” the guard commented.

Milton’s voice became acidic. “And exactly how the hell was he to know that? By reading your pathetic excuse for a mind?”

The guard said nothing.

“Don’t blame Jennings for your incompetence,” Milton stated. “You were flirting with Schmidt when he arrived, and you didn’t pay any attention to him whatsoever. Instead of verbally instructing him to leave, as required by regulations, you waved your hand to send him on his way.

Am I right?”

“I didn’t just wave. I motioned with my whole arm,” the guard said defensively, then added, almost as an afterthought, “sir.”

“Is that right?” Milton asked again.

A female voice, unfamiliar to Berwin, answered.

“I wasn’t paying much attention, sir.”

“Why not. Nurse Schmidt?”

“I was talking to Private Crane.”

Berwin heard Milton hiss.

“Both of you can consider yourselves on report.”

“But sir—” Private Crane said, starting to object.

“Silence!” Milton ordered. “You may mistakenly believe that just because you are temporarily assigned to the HGP, and because this is primarily a biological-research project, that you can afford to goof off at your job. You’re about to learn the hard way that such is not the case. I will personally report this breach of security to the general.”

“You wouldn’t, sir!” the guard exclaimed, clearly horrified at the likelihood.

“You’ve brought this on yourself, Crane,” Milton said.

“What about me. Doc?” Jennings threw in. “Are you going to report me too?” His voice wavered as he spoke.

“Don’t worry, Jennings. This wasn’t your fault. There won’t be any repercussions against you.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Jennings said, the words dripping with relief.

Berwin cocked his head, his attention aroused by a peculiar droning noise punctuated by a tickling sound similar to the ringing of a small bell.

“What’s going on here?” inquired a new voice.

Berwin straightened, recognizing the new arrival as Nurse Krittenbauer.

“Ahhh, Nancy. You won’t believe what has happened,” Milton said.

“Try me.”

Deciding that he’d risked detection long enough, Berwin hurried to his room. Once on his bed he sat with his forehead in his hands and pondered the quagmire of deception in which he was embroiled. Nothing was as it seemed. No one was who they claimed to be. Fact and fabrication were tangled indiscriminately.

Dear Spirit! What had he gotten into?

Who was he?

He tried to sort the truth from the falsehoods, beginning with the simplest deduction, counting them off in his head. One, if he really was in Boston, Massachusetts, then Boston must be controlled by the Russians.

Two, if the Russians were in control, then the United States had lost the war. Three, he was in a special ward administered by Russian doctors and scientists who were involved in a highly classified project. Four, Milton might actually be a physician but he was also a colonel, which indicated a military connection. Five, and predicated on his observation about Milton, Nurse Krittenbauer must be more than a nurse, perhaps another officer, if the respectful tone Milton had used toward her signified she was a peer. If so, Krittenbauer must be a plant assigned to watch him closely under the guise of being a nurse. Six, and most disturbing of all, he must figure prominently in whatever project the Russians were conducting.

Berwin frowned and closed his eyes. He still didn’t know why he instinctively viewed the Russians as his enemies. Think! he wanted to shout. Think!

And suddenly distinct memories flooded his mind in a torrent. He remembered World War Three and its aftermath.

World War Three had transpired 106 years ago, and neither side had emerged unscathed. The Soviets launched a two-pronged attack against the continental United States with conventional forces after their initial nuclear strike at a few strategically selected targets. Contrary to the media-fostered popular misconception, the Russians weren’t interested in destroying America; they wanted to conquer the country. The Soviets wanted America’s natural resources, and turning the U.S. into a devastated radioactive wasteland would have defeated their purposes.

Thermonuclear devices were used on certain military installations and a few major cities, such as New York and San Diego. But the Russians employed neutron bombs more extensively because the neutron variety were far less destructive and produced far less fallout.

On the Western Front the Soviets launched a massive drive through Alaska and Canada, aimed at the Pacific Northwest. Their armored columns were stopped in British Columbia by the worst winter in Canadian history, and they were forced to retreat back onto Russian soil.

The attack on the Eastern Seaboard was eminently successful. They wrested control of a corridor stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River, including New England, southern New York, southern Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, and portions of Illinois, Kentucky, Virginia, and West Virginia. They also conquered sections of North and South Carolina. Eventually the Russian drive sputtered as resistance mounted and they experienced shortages of men and supplies.

For 70 years the Russian forces in American maintained their domination over the belt of occupied territories, receiving infrequent shiploads of supplies from the motherland. Then, all contact with the Soviet Union ceased. The shortwave and cryptographic communications from Russia stopped. All ships sent to investigate were never heard from again. The reason wasn’t a mystery.

The Soviet regime, weakened by the staggering cost of the war, both in terms of personnel and armaments, and beset at home by ever worsening shortages of the simple necessities, eventually succumbed to internal pressures brought to bear by the non-Russian peoples and the virulent ethnic minorities who had always resented Russian dominance. Many rose up in rebellion and toppled their Communists oppressors.

Leaving the Russians in America stranded.

Realizing that without reinforcements from the motherland their numbers would gradually dwindle until the subjugated Americans were tempted to revolt, the Russian leaders in the U.S. opted to establish an ingenious alternate system for replenishing their ranks. They began a system of modified racial breeding. Carefully selected American women were forcibly impregnated, and their children were raised by the State.

The offspring were educated, trained, and indoctrinated by the occupation government. Communism was exalted. Russian values and history were stressed. The system produced soldiers every bit as Russian and as devoted to Communism as if they had been born and raised in the U.S.S.R. All of them were fluent in Russian and English.

Berwin opened his eyes and stared at the wall, feeling oddly happy despite his predicament. At last his memory was starting to return! Now if he could only recall who the hell he was, he’d be delirious! Although he knew more than he did before, he still didn’t know what the Russians were up to at the hospital, and he had no idea how he fitted into the scheme of things.

So what should he do?

Stay where he was and try to uncover the Russian project? Or should he escape from the hospital? If he did, where would he go?

Damn.

What a mess.

Footsteps sounded outside and Nurse Krittenbauer entered, all smiles.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

Berwin pasted a welcoming grin on his face. “Fine, thanks.”

“I heard you had a visitor,” she commented, coming over to the bed.

“Yeah. A janitor came in here and swept the floor. Doctor Milton didn’t seem very pleased.”

Krittenbauer scrutinized his face intently. “Did he explain the reason to you?”

Berwin nodded. “He was concerned about his patients.”

“What all did the janitor and you talk about?” Krittenbauer inquired casually.

“Not much.”

“Like what, specifically?” she prompted.

“Oh, he talked about his job and his wife. Nothing unusual. Why?”

Krittenbauer shrugged. “Just asking.”

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Berwin asked, her. “Do I get to go outdoors?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. But your family will be back to visit you later, so you shouldn’t be too bored.”

“I can hardly wait,” Berwin said, feigning enthusiasm.

“Can I get you anything?”

“How about explosives so I can blow a hole in the wall and a six-story-high ladder so I can climb down and escape this boredom?”

Berwin proposed.

Nurse Krittenbauer laughed. “Sorry. But you’re stuck here for the duration.”

Berwin sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”