Chadwick hits Rick before any of us can move. One second Rick is standing, the next he's on the ground with Chadwick over him and the restraints pulled taut, the sound coming out of Chadwick is one I've only heard once, in a building in Tikrit.
He grabs Rick's right arm and wrenches it backward against the joint. The snap is wet and loud, like green wood cracking, Rick starts screaming. Chadwick doesn't stop. He shifts his grip, takes the left arm at the elbow, and drives it past the breaking point until bone punches through skin. Rick's screaming goes so high it doesn't sound human anymore.
The guards are shouting but none of them move. Nobody wants to be the next person Chadwick puts his hands on. Someone fumbles for a radio. I'm six feet away and I'm not moving.
Chadwick rolls Rick and stamps down on his femur. The bone gives with a deep wet crack that I feel through the floor, Rick goes silent. His mouth is open but nothing comes out. His body is trying to catch up with what just happened to it.
Twelve seconds. I've seen men trained to kill and I've never seen anyone move with that much rage and that much control at the same time. He knew exactly where to hit and how hard, he did it with his teeth bared and his eyes on Rick's face the whole time.
I should be doing my job. The other guards are scrambling to respond and I should be with them.
Instead, I'm watching Hope.
She's pressed against the wall, clipboard on the floor, hand over her mouth, not screaming, not running, just staring at Chadwick, her whole face pulled tight trying to make sense of what she's seeing.
The other guards finally converge. Someone's calling for backup. Someone else is trying to secure Chadwick, who's already going still, the fight draining out of him now that Rick is a broken heap on the floor.
I move.
"Easy." I keep my voice low, just for him. "Work with me."
Jude doesn't look at me. His chest is heaving and his eyes are locked on Hope across the corridor, his hands bloody, his whole body still wired tight. I can feel the tension through my grip on the restraints. He's not done.
"Chadwick, Jude. Look at me."
He turns his head. Green eyes, clear. Whatever they've been pumping into him didn't slow him down. He's breathing hard.
He nods. One dip of his chin, and he lets me lock the restraints down.
The radio crackles. "Lewis, report. What's your status?"
I key the mic. My voice comes out steady and flat, the same voice I used to call in casualty reports.
"Patient 247 became agitated during transport. Responding officer attempted restraint and was unable to control the patient before injuries occurred. Requesting medical assistance to the transfer corridor. Patient is secured."
Every sentence built on a true thing. Rick did attempt restraint. He was unable to control the patient. Injuries did occur.
I don't mention the half-second I didn't move. Don't mention that I watched Chadwick lock onto Rick and chose, deliberately, to stay where I was.
"Copy, Lewis. Medical en route."
Hope is still against the wall. The other guards are dealing with Rick, who's making sounds that aren't quite words anymore. Chadwick is on his knees, hands behind his head, mouth curved just enough for me to see it.
I go to Hope.
"You okay?"
She looks up at me. Her face is pale but not afraid. If anything, she looks curious.
"He was threatening me," she says quietly. "Rick. What he said about my car, my route home... that was a threat, right?"
"Yeah."
"And Jude..." She looks past me, toward the patient on the floor. "He heard."
"Yeah."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "You just stood there."
