Maybe there's still hope for me and Sam. Maybe.
Drake took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to get trapped in an elevator if his cover was blown. The third floor looked much like the rest of the hospital, sterile and bustling with routine activity. He checked the room numbers as he walked the hall, his attention pulled into each room he passed. One grabbed his attention more than the others. A little girl, maybe six years old and tiny, lay strapped to a bed and hooked to a mass of tubes that probably kept her unconscious and drugged. Whatever power she possessed, they didn't want her awake to use it.
These people were not equipped to help these kids. Why hadn't IPI intervened to take over this operation? Surely this would show up on their radar. Drake suppressed the urge to rush in and whisk her away. He couldn't help every kid here. He could only help Toby. But as room after room revealed another kid in need of help, Drake wondered why Toby deserved help and they didn't.
Is it because he was lucky enough to meet me first? No, not lucky. Unlucky.
Toby had been unlucky enough to cross paths with Drake and drink a drug that made him sick and killed his mom. Drake should have stopped him, but he'd been too late. He felt responsible for Toby. That was the only difference.
As he continued down the corridor, he knew with more certainty that Steele had another method of introducing drugs to these kids beyond what they'd acquired on the street.
Drake heard people talking in hushed voices behind the door of one room. He peeked in and saw a soldier talking to a doctor. "Are you sure all of the drugs have been removed?"
The doctor twisted a strand of gold hair that had fallen out of her bun. "Yes, but now we have to replace everything. The drug was found in pills and intravenous medication in every hospital in this area. Even in the blood packs."
"Shit. What kind of sick freaks would do this? How could they even do this? Don't worry doctor, just let us know what you need. We'll work with the CDC and other hospitals to get you supplies."
The soldier moved to the door and Drake walked away. Someone had planted the drugs in the hospital, meaning Steele had infected thousands of people. That meant a lot of deaths.
God, all of those kids. He already knew Steele was the worst kind of monster. Now, he just had to figure out a way to stop him. Steele would pay for all of the pain and death he'd caused.
Drake arrived at Toby's room and found him strapped to the bed, drugged. A clock on the wall said he had ten minutes left—not long to get out of here. He closed the door and unstrapped the boy, taking care to avoid the bruises he still had from the beating he'd taken. He pulled out the needles of the IV and shook Toby gently to wake him, but he didn't respond.
Drake was going to have to carry him. But before he could take Toby, he had to make a call.
He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Steele, I'm in. There are guards on every floor."
"Remove them for me. Permanently."
Steele hung up, and Drake wanted to slam his fist into the wall. He didn't want to follow this order, but he had to prove his worth to Steele in order to get close enough to stop him for good, and to avoid suspicion as he made his way to Sam. If he showed no worth at all, Steele would kill him. That was certain.
He lifted Toby and carried him into the hall.
The soldier who'd been talking to the doctor walked toward them. "Excuse me, where are you going with that boy?"
Drake tapped into his compulsion. 'Take your gun and point it to your head.'
The soldier's eyes blanked out, and he raised his gun to his head.
Drake stared at his eyes. This man didn't want to be here. Like the girl downstairs, circumstances beyond his control had brought him to this impasse, had screwed up his life. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Drake tried to derive some level of comfort from this. He had to do this to get out and get back to Sam and their baby. He was responsible for them, just as he was responsible for the boy in his arms.
Remove them for me.
It'd be easy. First, the man before him would shoot himself, and Drake would collect his weapon. Then, like the Reaper himself, Drake would haunt the halls, bringing swift death to all he encountered. He'd have to take another dose or two of the purple drug—no way around that—but Steele would replenish them if he did a good job. And Drake would do a good job. He'd leave no one standing.
Remove them for me.
Steele might even give Drake his powers back if he handed over all of these children. He'd said he would, eventually. Already, the drugs slipped from Drake's body, stealing away his powers. How good it would feel to be his old self again, to be the man Sam loved. It'd be easy to be that man again.
Remove them for me.