along to watch.”
Davis grabbed Mallory, and putting the gun to his head, instructed the two policemen: “Yon help Mr. Scott with the cart. Mr. Mallory is staying right with me just in case anyone tries anything. Let’s go!” he ordered.
Off they went, this strange caravan, Jody being pushed down the narrow hallway toward the emergency elevator, Frank warning anyone who wanted to be a hero to “stay back,” his gun leveled at Mallory’s head, using him as a hostage.
Other policemen, who had already passed them in the hallway, were now on their radios telling the policemen downstairs what the situation was. “Let them alone,” they warned. “They got Mallory. We’ll take them outside the hospital.”
As the emergency-elevator doors opened, a surprised attendant stared out at the strange waiting group. There was Jody on her table, Eugene, two policemen, and behind them Mallory with a gun in his ear. Running the whole show was Frank Davis.
“Get on,” Davis said. “Everybody!”
Downstairs, in the emergency area of the hospital, two derelicts were seated on the edge of a bench, holding each other up. Obviously they had been in some sort of fight, for they were explaining to the nurse’s aide that they always ended up “messing with each other when we get liquored up, we don’t mean nothing by it.”
Just then the elevator doors opened and out came the cart with the enormously pregnant Jody Scott on it, followed by the rest of the group. Right through the emergency section they marched, heading for the back door.
“Hey,” said one of the derelicts, “look at this!”
“You can’t come through here!” cried the nurse’s aide.
Mallory pointed to Davis, who still held the gun to his head. “It’s okay, lady, it’s okay. Let them alone!”
Sure of himself, Frank knew exactly where to go. “Take her down that ramp,” he said.
In the mobile home, Barbara was agitated. Big Steve, with all his muscles, was sitting there like a six-year-old child, methodically cracking his knuckles. Someday I’m going to tell that big jerk off, she thought to herself. She recalled with annoyance the trip down from Los Angeles earlier that night with Billy driving. Steve had tried to corner her in the back of the mobile home.
Suddenly the back door of the hospital crashed open. There they were, the woman on the table, the cops, Davis, two other men. “Look,” Barbara gasped. Drs. Westley and Forrest came running from the back of the motor home.
Speechlessly they watched this strange procession as it moved across the empty parking lot directly toward the mobile unit.
“Incredible!” said Dr. Westley, finding his voice.
Dr. Forrest, meanwhile, had the door open just in time to hear Davis instructing the policemen.
“Lift her; the cart comes apart. Just lift her off the cart,” he ordered.
Following his instructions, the police did just that. Lifting Jody, they handed her in through the open door to the two waiting male nurses.
“Easy,” said Davis, “easy,” taking charge as if he had been doing this sort of thing all his life.
Suddenly from around the corner six or seven police cars pulled up, surrounding Davis and the motor home.
“Inside,” shouted Frank. “Hurry up.” Eugene rushed into the unit. “All right,” said Frank, “lock it up.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Frank outside alone to face the police, with Mallory still his hostage.
In the mobile unit, Steve and Billy very cautiously placed Jody on the delivery table. Dr. Forrest stood by, ready to go.
“Is she all right?” asked Dr. Westley anxiously.
“She’s all right,” said Dr. Forrest.
“You’re going to save the baby, aren’t you?” moaned Jody, suddenly finding the strength to talk.
“We’re going to damn well try,” said Dr. Forrest, smiling down at her.
Through her pain she smiled back. I like this man, she thought. I can trust him.
Outside the mobile medical unit—mass confusion. The unit was
Davis grabbed Mallory, and putting the gun to his head, instructed the two policemen: “Yon help Mr. Scott with the cart. Mr. Mallory is staying right with me just in case anyone tries anything. Let’s go!” he ordered.
Off they went, this strange caravan, Jody being pushed down the narrow hallway toward the emergency elevator, Frank warning anyone who wanted to be a hero to “stay back,” his gun leveled at Mallory’s head, using him as a hostage.
Other policemen, who had already passed them in the hallway, were now on their radios telling the policemen downstairs what the situation was. “Let them alone,” they warned. “They got Mallory. We’ll take them outside the hospital.”
As the emergency-elevator doors opened, a surprised attendant stared out at the strange waiting group. There was Jody on her table, Eugene, two policemen, and behind them Mallory with a gun in his ear. Running the whole show was Frank Davis.
“Get on,” Davis said. “Everybody!”
Downstairs, in the emergency area of the hospital, two derelicts were seated on the edge of a bench, holding each other up. Obviously they had been in some sort of fight, for they were explaining to the nurse’s aide that they always ended up “messing with each other when we get liquored up, we don’t mean nothing by it.”
Just then the elevator doors opened and out came the cart with the enormously pregnant Jody Scott on it, followed by the rest of the group. Right through the emergency section they marched, heading for the back door.
“Hey,” said one of the derelicts, “look at this!”
“You can’t come through here!” cried the nurse’s aide.
Mallory pointed to Davis, who still held the gun to his head. “It’s okay, lady, it’s okay. Let them alone!”
Sure of himself, Frank knew exactly where to go. “Take her down that ramp,” he said.
In the mobile home, Barbara was agitated. Big Steve, with all his muscles, was sitting there like a six-year-old child, methodically cracking his knuckles. Someday I’m going to tell that big jerk off, she thought to herself. She recalled with annoyance the trip down from Los Angeles earlier that night with Billy driving. Steve had tried to corner her in the back of the mobile home.
Suddenly the back door of the hospital crashed open. There they were, the woman on the table, the cops, Davis, two other men. “Look,” Barbara gasped. Drs. Westley and Forrest came running from the back of the motor home.
Speechlessly they watched this strange procession as it moved across the empty parking lot directly toward the mobile unit.
“Incredible!” said Dr. Westley, finding his voice.
Dr. Forrest, meanwhile, had the door open just in time to hear Davis instructing the policemen.
“Lift her; the cart comes apart. Just lift her off the cart,” he ordered.
Following his instructions, the police did just that. Lifting Jody, they handed her in through the open door to the two waiting male nurses.
“Easy,” said Davis, “easy,” taking charge as if he had been doing this sort of thing all his life.
Suddenly from around the corner six or seven police cars pulled up, surrounding Davis and the motor home.
“Inside,” shouted Frank. “Hurry up.” Eugene rushed into the unit. “All right,” said Frank, “lock it up.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Frank outside alone to face the police, with Mallory still his hostage.
In the mobile unit, Steve and Billy very cautiously placed Jody on the delivery table. Dr. Forrest stood by, ready to go.
“Is she all right?” asked Dr. Westley anxiously.
“She’s all right,” said Dr. Forrest.
“You’re going to save the baby, aren’t you?” moaned Jody, suddenly finding the strength to talk.
“We’re going to damn well try,” said Dr. Forrest, smiling down at her.
Through her pain she smiled back. I like this man, she thought. I can trust him.
Outside the mobile medical unit—mass confusion. The unit was
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