*
Ramming aside barricades blocking off the lane, Rhyllann splashed on. The lane widened into a street, other roads diverged from it, but no street lights glowed; all the houses were in darkness. The whole town had lost power. An elderly woman struggled to pile sandbags against her doorstep, rain splattering against the bin bags swathed around her. Applying the brake to the pram, Rhyllann walked up to tap at her shoulder.
‘Excuse me please? The hospital. Please – I need to find a hospital.’
The old woman had probably seen much stranger sights in her time. Without blinking an eye she directed him. Ten minutes later, Rhyllann applied the pram's brake again outside the hospital’s entrance. With Wren sagging against him, he dragged them both up the steps and through the reception doors. Steam rose from the damp bodies huddled into the crowded foyer, and a crescendo of mutterings and shuffling filled the air.
‘I’ll get someone. Stay there, I’ll get someone.’ Rhyllann patted a clammy cheek. ‘Wren – stay with me.’ Wren’s head drooped lifelessly; a plea sprung up in Rhyllann’s mind: ‘Please god, please god please god.’
He studied the assembly sized room – three receptionists manned the desk, the queue snaked half way around the waiting area. Every seat and bench was occupied. Lowering Wren against a wall, Rhyllann took a deep breath, then marched to the front.
Immediately a protest sprung up, Rhyllann felt himself jostled.
‘My cousin – he needs help now! It’s urgent.’
‘We’re all urgent.’
‘No – you don’t understand – he’s dying. Please – he needs help now!’
Rhyllann was shouldered out the way amid calls of ‘take your turn’ and ‘get in the bloody queue’ ‘bloody emmit’.
God! This was hopeless – he had to find another way! He looked back towards where he’d propped Wren, straining to see over heads, in time to see a trench coated figure stoop and gather Wren up like a bundle of washing. Rhyllann tottered into a run, shoving blindly through bodies. He’d lost them! He couldn’t find them. Pushing down the panic, he forced himself to stand still, and make a complete circuit of the room. He caught a bag lady’s eye.
‘Man – man with a hat?‘ He gibbered.
‘That way – young man – the gentleman took your friend that way.’ She pointed towards a door marked private.
‘Thank you – thank you so much!’ Rhyllann breathed, unlocking his legs to stumble in the right direction. Bag lady! Tonight the whole town resembled a refugee camp.
Finding himself in a small inner lobby, Rhyllann pushed through the next door into a wide main corridor. Which way had they gone? Left would lead to reception and exits, could Wren's kidnapper have doubled back? After a moment’s indecision, Rhyllann turned right, urging his legs to sprint but only managing a geriatric jog. Clutching his side and sobbing now, he reached the corner at last. In time to see Wren being loaded onto a trolley and spirited away by a couple of white coats. Rhyllann opened his mouth to yell, but nothing came out. The figure in the trench coat stood watching as the trolley disappeared through another swing door, then turned to squelch back down the corridor. He held a wooden box in one hand, a bright yellow rainhat obscured his face. Rhyllann slid helplessly down the wall, still clutching his side, mouth working soundlessly. Tugging off his hat, the man batted it against his coat, scattering water droplets. Rhyllann finally recognised him, and howled. A hand seized his hair roughly, forcing his head upwards. The man squatted down to stare into Rhyllann's face with eyes of china blue. Then with another jerk of Rhyllann’s hair, he spoke.
‘You son, are in my bad books.’
Rhyllann couldn’t believe how pleased he was to see that snarl. Once again he gave into hysterical laughter, allowing Crombie to drag him to his feet.