Come on. Come on. Make your move.

Michelle had just put in the last stitch and was waiting for that beautiful first cough after the anesthesiologist had removed the tube. The child had come through the surgery like a champion. Barring any complications, John Patrick would be climbing his favorite tree again within a month. Providing, of course, that his mother would let him out of her sight.

"Come on, sweetie. Cough for me," she whispered.

She heard a tiny little groan followed by a dry cough a second later. "Good to go," the anesthesiologist said. He pulled his mask down and grinned. "This is one lucky boy."

"Great job," she told the team.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out in the hallway. Chaos followed. One of the nurses screamed and ran to the door to find out what

was happening, ignoring both Michelle's and Landusky's shouts to come back. Then Michelle heard Theo shout to the woman

to get back.

"It's Theo. Is he hurt?" Michelle demanded.

"I don't know. What in God's name is going on?"

No one had an answer. Their concern was for the patient now. John Patrick was breathing on his own, the sound nice and clear. Landusky quickly helped Michelle roll the table over against the wall by the doors. A nurse moved the IV stand. She put it to the side, and then she and another nurse leaned over the boy to protect him from harm if anyone rushed into the OR firing a weapon. Landusky had the same idea. He stood behind John Patrick's head, cupped his hands on either side of the boy's face, and hunched over him. The others squatted down behind the foot of the table and waited. A technician put her hands over her ears and was silently crying.

Michelle had already grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher, holding it like a baseball bat. She stood to the side of the door but far enough away so that if the shooter slammed the door against the wall, it wouldn't block her. Then she turned the lights off and waited. She wouldn't allow herself to think about Theo. She had only one thought now and that was to keep the gunman out of the OR.

"If anyone fires a gun in here, the whole floor could blow up," Landusky whispered. "The oxygen tanks and the-"

"Shhh," she whispered. She and everyone else in the OR were well aware of the danger.

She pressed forward to listen. What was that soft whirring noise? It sounded like a centrifuge spinning. Oh, God, her Willie Nelson tape was automatically rewinding. When it reached the beginning, it would start playing again. The recorder was on top of a table against the wall on the other side of the doors. A sterile sheet covered it.

She wanted to shout to Theo. She couldn't, of course. Let him be okay. If he's hurt… if he's bleeding while I'm hiding behind this door… Don't. Don't think about it. Where was Noah? Why wasn't he helping Theo? Was he out there too? Theo, where are you?

Theo hunched behind the gurney. He was ready. He sensed rather than heard the man coming, and Theo kicked the gurney with all his might as Preston sprinted around the corner. He was firing into the center of the corridor. The gurney crashed into him, but it didn't slow him down. He easily blocked the gurney with his arm, then threw his weight into it and sent it hurling into Theo, slamming him back against the wall.

Theo went down hard. As Preston was trying to shove the gurney out of his way so he could get a clear shot, Theo rolled under the table and fired. The bullet struck Preston in the left thigh. And that didn't seem to slow him down either. His empty magazine clattered to the floor, and he was snapping another one into the weapon as Theo, roaring like a bear on the attack, lifted the gurney with his shoulder, grabbed it with one hand, and used it as a battering ram, forcing Preston back. Theo shot through the pad falling from the gurney. Preston pivoted and the bullet creased the top of his shoulder.

The bastard didn't even flinch. What the hell was it going to take to bring him down? As Preston was diving around the corner, Theo aimed and fired again. Click. Nothing happened. The magazine was empty. He reached behind him to grab the second one. Noah had shoved into his pocket, loaded it in the gun, then dove as Preston opened fire on him.

One bullet skimmed Theo's forehead. How many bullets did he have left? Theo wondered. If he was lucky, maybe two. Three was pushing it. He felt a flash of searing pain in his arm as he dove again to get out of the line of fire.

The gurney lay on its side. Thank God, he thought as he scrambled to get behind it.

Preston lunged to get Theo in his sights, but Theo lashed out with his foot and nailed him in his knee. And still he didn't go down. He staggered back, firing into the ceiling.

The doors around the corner suddenly exploded. Preston didn't look behind him to see who was coming. He was just a couple of feet away from a darkened room, saw the swinging doors, and knew it was time to get the hell out. He rushed into the OR, hoping there was another way out on the other side.

Preston stopped and squinted into the dark, listening as he edged away from the doors. He turned toward Michelle, the barrel of his gun pointed in her direction.

She could hear him panting. He was too close. Another step and he'd bump into her. She knew she'd have to step t»ack to get a good swing at him. But he'd hear it, she thought.

Why wasn't he moving? Did he know she was there? Just one step forward.

She needed a distraction. Something… anything to get him to turn away from her so she could strike. Willie Nelson came to her rescue. "To all the girls I've loved before…" The instant the song started, Preston whirled around and fired again and again at the tape recorder. Michelle swung the extinguisher, slamming it into his jaw.

"Hit the lights," she shouted as he staggered backward into the hallway. She went after him, struck him again on the side of the head. The second blow seemed to do the trick. He went flying back and landed with a thud against the wall.

Michelle stopped. Theo sprang in front of her as Preston was bringing his gun up. Theo fired and hit him in the abdomen.

He was using his back to push Michelle into the OR and out of danger.

Preston fell to his knees as Noah ran toward him shouting, "Drop the gun."

Preston turned toward Noah and took aim. He never got to pull the trigger. Noah fired. One bullet through the temple. Preston pitched forward facedown on the floor. A pool of black blood rapidly formed a puddle around him.

Michelle nudged Theo forward to get him out of the way of the doors as she called out, "It's clear. Get the patient to recovery."

Theo leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down into a sitting position as Noah squatted next to Preston and lifted the gun from his hand.

Everyone started shouting and talking at once then. Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear the squeak of the rollers as the nurses pushed John Patrick's bed out and around Preston.

Michelle knelt down beside Theo. She'd peeled her gloves off and was gently probing the cut below his eye.

"I'm too old for this," he muttered.

"You okay?" Noah asked as he reholstered his gun.

"Yes. Did you get the one she called Monk?"

"No."

"No?" he shouted. He was trying to dodge Michelle's hand so he could see Noah.

"I don't know how he did it, but he got away. I know I winged him," Noah said. "All the exits are blocked, and they're making a sweep of each floor, but he's long gone."

"You can't know that."

"A patient up on four was looking out his window and saw a man run across a bed of flowers up the hill. The patient said he was bent over."

"What about John Russell? Any sign of him?" Theo asked.

"No," Noah answered.

"You tore your stitches," Michelle said.