Page 45 of Wild Temple (Tyson Wild Thriller #84)

T he hospital wasn’t really equipped for this type of thing, but it was the only option. Rex was barely alive when we carried him in.

He was triaged and started on an IV and broad-spectrum antibiotics. His wound was cleaned, and necrotic tissue removed. A general surgeon performed an emergency exploratory laparotomy to remove the bullet.

There were a lot of questions.

We figured it best to play dumb.

“We found him in the jungle while we were hiking,” I said.

The nurse’s doubtful eyes surveyed me. She didn’t buy it, but that was the story we all stuck to.

As wanted fugitives, we couldn’t hang around too long. The hospital would call the police if they hadn’t already.

We decided to slip out with the girls and check on Rex later .

Two patrol cars pulled into the lot as we stepped toward the automatic glass doors.

That was our cue to turn around and walk the other way. As cool and as casual as possible, I escorted the girls through the ER to the hospital.

We made a few twists and turns. Down an empty hallway, we ducked into a laundry supply closet.

At this point, we were all pretty ripe. Days in the jungle without showers, deodorant, or basic hygiene left us pretty seasoned. We peeled out of our soiled jungle garb and helped ourselves to fresh, royal blue scrubs.

Jack grabbed a white lab coat and put it on. He cupped his hand over his mouth and mimicked a loudspeaker. “Paging Dr. Donovan. You’re needed at the bar, STAT.”

It broke the tension and put a smile on my face. I could certainly use an adult beverage or two.

With surgical masks to conceal our faces, we stepped back into the hallway. In our current state, we could reasonably pass for a tattered crew that had been on shift for 12 hours.

We moved through the maze of grungy pastel hallways, putting as much distance between us and the police as possible.

We passed by patient rooms in the NICU. Ventilators wheezed and clacked, and heart monitors blipped. A few nurses on shift drifted in and out of patient rooms. Each unit had a dry-erase board by the door with patient info: first initial, last name, physician, and other relevant information .

One board in particular caught my eye as we passed. It read:

JANE DOE

Bella?

Dr. Kusuma.

I stopped the others and peered into the dim room.

The bed was empty.

I knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no response.

The TV was on. The bed was still warm.

I stepped back into the hallway and stopped a passing nurse. It was probably a bad idea because I had no hospital credentials. No ID badge.

She was so busy and flustered she didn’t notice. The cute brunette was an American. I figured she was here with a volunteer mission or exchange.

“Excuse me, where is the patient that was in this room?”

“She’s not in the room?” Tabitha replied with concern. Her name was written on her ID badge. She poked her head into the room to confirm. Then she checked the bathroom as well. Confused and growing worried, she said, “She was just here.”

“Her name is Isabella, right? Do you know her last name?”

“No last name. She came in after a motorcycle accident. Unconscious. Brain swelling. She was put into an induced coma to reduce swelling. We brought her out of it yesterday. Only thing I could get out of her was a first name. She couldn’t remember much. ”

“She’s an American, right?”

“Yes.”

I described Isabella.

“Yes, that sounds like her.”

“Did she have any visitors?”

Her brow wrinkled as she scanned my chest for credentials. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“I’m sorry, we’ve got patients to see,” Jack said, tugging at my arm.

Two officers rounded the corner.

“I need to see some identification,” Tabitha growled.

We fast-walked down the hall while Tabitha approached the officers and complained. It wasn’t long after that when they shouted for us to stop. That was our cue to take off.

What started as a brisk walk turned into a sprint. JD and I raced down the corridor with the girls and took a right at the next corner.

The police chased after us, shouting. Fortunately, they were at the other end of the hallway when we had started our mad dash.

We made a few quick turns down the hospital hallways and ducked into a patient room. I picked up a clipboard at the end of the patient's bed and reviewed her chart. The others stood around, trying to make themselves look busy.

The patient looked at me with confused eyes. She was an American woman who had broken her leg during a scooter accident and was in traction. They were common in the area—first-time scooter drivers underestimating the dangers and overestimating their abilities.

"Everything is looking great, Mrs. Davis. You’re healing well, and we should have you up and out of here and running marathons in no time.”

Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "Who are you?"

The cops ran past the room, their footsteps slapping against the tile. They ran to the end of the hall, then split up at the T junction.

We slipped back into the hallway and walked in the opposite direction, trying to play it cool.

We flooded out of the nearest exit into the night air. It was hot and thick as usual.

Caspian and his men hadn't bothered to take my wallet or my phone while we were in the jungle.

They weren't after money, and the cell phone didn't have service out there.

We walked around the hospital, back to the parking lot by the ER, and found the Jeep.

I hopped behind the wheel, cranked up the engine, and we drove away.

I called Talia.

In a relieved exhale, she said, "Oh my God, you're okay! I was worried sick about you. What happened?"

I gave her a brief recap of the full story and told her we needed a place to stay. "I need you to hack into the hospital database. Check the security cameras and patient records. I think Isabella got into an accident and was treated at the hospital. She's not there now. But she can't be far. "

"I'm on it," she replied. “I don’t know how I missed this. I checked with the hospital. They said they had no Jane Does matching Isabella’s description.”

“People fall through the cracks all the time.”

Talia told me she would call the Nest and make arrangements for our stay. By this point, we were running short on cash. Talia said she would transfer crypto and make reservations under an assumed name.

15 minutes later, we checked in at the front desk.

I got keys to a two-bedroom suite with a spacious living area, a minibar, and kitchenette.

The balcony overlooked the pool. It may not have been the most opulent place on the island but was the pinnacle of luxury compared to the jungle we had just endured.

Anything would seem like a five-star accommodation after that.

The first thing I wanted to do was hit the shower.

Brooke joined me.

The hot, steamy water washed away days of dirt, grime, sweat, and trauma. It swirled down the drain as we both lathered up. But the adventure wasn't quite over yet.

Fresh and squeaky clean, we decided to get dirty again in the tiny shower stall. It was a challenge, but we made it work.

Afterward, we toweled off but didn't have any fresh clothes to change into. The white terrycloth robe provided by the hotel would have to do for now. It was way too small, but it served its purpose while I mixed drinks .

The scrubs we had taken from the hospital were relatively clean. They would do until I could get other clothes. The girls were in the same boat. We all had nothing.

I fell onto the couch, drink in hand, and put my feet up on the woven coffee table. That’s when I noticed something astonishing.