Free Tribe by R.D. Zimmerman Page A

and swinging it open. “But come on, you can take a couple of swipes in here with the mop. God knows the last time it was cleaned, probably months ago.”
    “Great. Thanks.”
    Pushing his large dust mop, Zeb swung around, going directly for the doorway and following both his good luck and her into the chamber. It was a small room, maybe eight by six, lined on either side with towering shelves of bottles and small packages, medicine all of it. While Zeb knew he'd hit the proverbial gold mine, he scanned the entire situation and realized immediately that getting in here was only the first battle. The stuff, he saw, was so valuable that every pill, every drop of medication, was stored in a locked case, the front of each a metal grille. Zeb pushed the broom to the end of the chamber, glanced side to side. Shit. What now? Behind him Brenda was opening one of the cases, reaching in, taking out a small bottle. And then, to his horror, he realized that she realized he was looking at her.
    She grinned and said, “One of my patients is having a coughing fit. This codeine stuff ought to calm him down.”
    “Oh, right…right.”
    He plowed the dust mop forward, while out of the corner of his eye he watched as she shut and locked the cabinet door. He bent forward, pretended to pick at something on the floor. He moved forward a bit, used the dust mop to scrub at some imaginary spot. Glancing up, he saw Brenda standing by the door and staring at him.
    “You're right,” said Zeb, “this place hasn't been cleaned in months. It's filthy. I mean, look at all the dust.”
    She said nothing, merely grinned, her round face animated, her red hair thick and bouncy.
    “You'd better get that medicine to your patient. Don't let me slow you down,” he continued. “I'll just pull the door shut behind me.”
    “That's okay. I'll wait. You need a key to lock the door.”
    “Well,” said Zeb, thinking as fast as he could, “just leave me your key. I'll lock up and bring it to you when I'm done.”
    “What are you trying to do, silly, get me fired?” She stared at him with a soft smile. “I don't mind waiting.”
    “But…”
    “Say, do you want to get a cup of coffee?”
    Oh, shit, thought Zeb. He hadn't stopped to think that this thirty-something woman might have her own agenda. She was kind of cute. But she was too old for him and…and…He saw her standing against the closed door. He felt the thick handle of the broom in his hand. The drugs were right there, everything he wanted ready for the taking. In his mind he saw himself ripping the keys from her, shoving her down, helping himself to exactly what he'd come for.
    “No, I can't. Not tonight,” he said, shaking his head and starting to push the mop again. “My shift's almost over and…and I gotta be someplace.”
    “Oh, well,” said Brenda, still smiling, “maybe some other time.”
    “Sure.”
    Zeb then pushed his small pile of dust and dirt toward the door, which Brenda held open. Stepping into the hallway, he turned to the right as she locked up behind him.
    “Bye,” called Brenda with a wink. “Don't work too hard.”
    “Don't worry, I won't.”
    He kept pushing his broom, working his way to the end of the corridor, then turning at the first corner. Crap, what was he supposed to do now? How was he going to do this? Tonight the place was so deserted that he'd been sure it was the perfect opportunity. Even the nurses' station was empty.
    Across the hall he saw a pay phone. He'd almost called her before. And he wanted to again. He just hadn't expected to be, well, so lonely, and reaching into the pocket of his blue uniform, he felt a handful of quarters. He shrugged and leaned his dust mop against the wall, crossed to the phone, dialed the number, and deposited over a dollar in change. The line clicked, and then the phone on the other end started ringing. And ringing. Zeb clenched his eyes shut.
    “Shit.” Where could she be?
    After he'd run away to his father and