March Into Hell Read Online Free PDF

being stuck in that place for a day with those crazy people. Just the thought of it gave him the willies. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't even know her name. "Uh, did you happen to get her name?"
    "Of course. I am a cop, after all. It's Judy." She pulled out a small notepad. "Judy Medea. She's a college student that somehow got mixed up with this group."
    The nurse entered before Mark could ask any more questions. He wondered if Judy's family had been called and how she would get home. Tomorrow, he'd call and find out how she was doing and see if she needed anything. He sat up, dangling his legs off the side of the gurney and tried to listen as the nurse droned on about signs of infection, complications and to follow up in a week with his personal physician. After taking one last set of vitals, she gave him a sheet of instructions and released him.
    Jessie followed him out to the waiting room, and he remembered her admonishment not to leave before she came back. He figured now was the time she intended to interrogate him. Before she could corner him, he sought a means of escape. Off to the left of the waiting room was a pay phone, and Mark veered towards it as quickly as his battered body allowed. He dug into his pocket and swore when he came up with a ten-dollar bill and no change. Maybe the desk clerk would let him use their phone to call for a cab. He didn't really feel like taking the 'L' home. Before Jessie could catch up to him, he approached the registration desk. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"
    The woman looked up from her computer. "Yes?"
    Mark held up his arm, showing the ID bracelet still encircling his wrist. "I was just released and wondered if I could use the phone to call a cab. I don't have any change on me."
    "Sure, as long as it's local. Just dial nine first." The clerk turned the phone so he could see the numbers. She pointed to a faded piece of paper taped to the wall on Mark's right. "There's some numbers up there, if you need them."
    "Thanks so much." Mark picked up the phone and squinted at the list. The numbers wavered, and he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. Jessie, after detouring around a mom and three children, stopped beside him.
    "Who are you calling?" Jessie craned her neck to see what Mark was looking at, her eyebrows knit in confusion.
    Mark glanced at Jessie and pointed at the phone numbers. "I'm calling a cab."
    "What for?"
    "What for? So I can go home." He began punching the buttons, realized he'd made a mistake and hung up to try again.
    Jessie reached over and took the phone out of his hands and set it in the cradle. "I can give you a lift home. I figured you knew that."
    "That's okay. I can just take a cab." The prospect of being peppered with questions on the ride home didn't appeal to him in the least.
    "Listen, you just got released from the hospital with a concussion. You can barely see straight. I can't let you take a cab home." She gently took his arm and as though she could read his mind, she added, "Come on. I promise not to grill you."
    Too tired to argue, Mark let her lead him out to her vehicle.
    True to her word, Jessie remained fairly quiet on the ride home, just asking him about his injuries. "So, what's the tally?"
    Mark fingered the lump topped with stitches behind his right ear. "Six in my head and four in my hand. The hand...that was just 'cause I caught it on a nail." He smoothed down a piece of tape over the bandage circling his palm. The cut wasn't that long, just wide and deep.
    "Sure. It could happen to anyone." Jessie's dry tone as she pulled in front of the studio didn't pass unnoticed by Mark.
    "What should I have done, Jessie? Just left her there?" He couldn't help the anger stamped onto his voice. He was so tired of the questioning and not just tonight's drilling, but every time something happened. He ground the heel of his hand against his forehead. Why was it that when he did something good, it practically required an act of God for anyone