looked at the man and knew he meant it and knew he didn't know what he was dealing with and he knew something else: there was no way the Team could ever convince him otherwise in time.
Felix had been leaning against the corridor wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking sinister with his bandaged head over the even dozen stitches they had had to give him. He uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the wall.
"Is there a place... a room, where we could talk?" he asked.
The doctor eyed him gratefully and led them around a corner to a small anteroom that, judging from the cigarette smoke, served as the break area for the Emergency Room staff. It had a couple of tables covered with soggy cardboard coffee cups and overflowing ashtrays, some plastic chairs, a vending machine, a pay phone.
The three men sat down and added to the smoke.
"Jack," Cat all but whispered, "we're going to have to risk it, you know."
Crow didn't look at him, didn't respond, just puffed hard on his cigarette.
Cat exchanged a look with Felix before trying again.
"We can't move her, Jack. And... well, we can put sensors outside, out in front, so we'll know they're coming. Hell, they might not even come."
Crow glared at him. "They know she's hurt, Cherry. Do you really believe they won't come?"
Cat just looked at him.
Crow turned to Felix. "Do you?"
Felix met his gaze. "No."
And it was quiet for a while.
"But we've got some options here," Cat continued. "We don't have to fight. They'll probably come in the front - why wouldn't they? And we'll hear them and we can move her then!"
"Give us that again," said Felix, interested.
"We move her out the back. Miles of hallways in this place. We'll just wheel her down the hall and into an elevator and just pick a route out the back. Look, I've checked it out. I know just where to park the Blazer...
And he went on for a while in convincing style and much detail, like it was, really, a great opportunity instead of the disaster it was.
Felix sat in silence as be spoke, hating it. They all knew better. When would they come? From which direction? How many? How were they going to stop them at night? And did anyone really believe they could just trot through this hospital wheeling a critical patient? Fighting vampires along the way?
Felix sat there and listened to Cat and watched Jack Crow and saw him again, haggard and beaten but coming through to tend to Carl's body. And then relaxed and relieved and hopeful before ten minutes later having to save the whole show single-handed.
And now Cat trying to convince everybody this was all going to be all right.
The Gunman smiled.
Cat stopped talking abruptly when he saw the smile.
"What is it, Felix?" Jack asked. "What do you think of the Plan, here?"
"It stinks."
"I suppose you'd like to just get out of here."
"I sure would."
"Are you?"
Felix felt his own smile growing. Do you bastards really think I'd abandon Annabelle? Or you, Crow, after what you've done?
"Jack," he said at last, "you're a real prick."
Crow eyed him a moment. "True," he replied seriously.
And..."Okay, okay, okay," he continued wearily. "I guess we're stuck with Cat's little scheme. Unless the Gunman here has something new?"
"'Fraid not."
"'Fraid you'd say that. Okay. But I want two escape routes. Get back to the bishop's and fetch the motorhome. I want two ways out of this place. You and Cat figure out where we should stash the vehicles. And you'd better take Davette somewhere. Where were we supposed to stay last night? The one by the Galleria?"
"She won't go," said Father Adam from the doorway. "Huh?" asked Jack.
Adam shook his head. "She won't leave Annabelle's side." Felix snorted. "Like hell she won't. You just - "
Cat shook his head, too. "She won't, Felix."
Crow and Felix exchanged looks.
"This is crap," said one of them.
Cat leaned forward on the table.
"Hey, guys," he said gently. "We're getting down to it. And everybody's got his own style."
Felix stared at him like he was from Mars.
"'His own style,' eh?" muttered Jack, almost to himself. "Well, that's nice."
Then he leaned over and put his cigarette out and started giving orders.
"We set the detectors and we fetch the motorhome and we scope out two escape routes and then, a couple of hours before dark, somebody - you, Gunman, it's your woman - pick up our pretty little martyr and her style and put her