was huge. I figured the emergency department had to be somewhere in the medical center, but I couldn’t see it from that side of the building.
I could go back inside. There would be signs and directories there. But there were too many people there, too many bustling nurses and bewildered visitors. I had just escaped the hospital. I couldn’t make myself go back.
I zipped up my jacket and flipped up the hood. I hadn’t bothered to take it off inside the offices. I was always cold now, even inside. I arbitrarily picked a direction and began walking around the brick and glass monstrosity of the main hospital building.
A car will meet me? How strange was that? I didn’t have to go, I told myself. But I needed to do something. Something other than just wait to die.
The wind grew suddenly sharper as I got farther from the building on the main sidewalk that circled it. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I could feel fatigue dragging at me with every step. I would pay tomorrow for this walk—never mind the blind flight down the stairs.
For now, I didn’t care. I told my leg to swing, and it swung and held my weight, and that was enough for me.
The emergency department turned out to be on the opposite side of the center from the medical offices. By the time I rounded the second corner of the building, I was winded, and my legs were shaking. I trudged on, shutting out pain and exhaustion as I fixed my eyes on the sign over the emergency parking circle.
I stumbled under the protection of the canopy at the entrance. Finally.
“Ms. Shaw?”
I turned. There, at the curb, stood a man in an old-fashioned chauffeur’s uniform, complete with hat and gloves. The car he stood next to was an understated silver color, but the elegant shape screamed money. A Bentley, I realized as I recognized the symbol on the trunk.
Oh, really?
“I’m Cora Shaw,” I said cautiously.
The driver opened the rear passenger door. “Please, enter.”
I gaped at him for several seconds. I mean, a Bentley? I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe a yellow cab. The man on the phone had told me that they would send a car. And here it was. But that didn’t make it seem any less bizarre. It was, I decided, more than a little creepy.
“How do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?” I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest.
“I must admit, Ms. Shaw, that this is often a fear of our patients,” the chauffeur said evenly.
I waited for him to continue with his reassurances, but the man simply stood, waiting impassively.
I shifted from foot to foot. I could see the soft interior from here, and my whole body clamored for a chance to settle into the warm comfort it offered.
What if he was a kidnapper? I wondered. What is the worst that could happen? Well, I could get brutally mutilated and murdered, I supposed. Torture would be bad, but my death was coming pretty soon, anyway.
On the other hand, the best that could happen was, of course, a cure. I barely let myself think that for the tiniest instant before shutting it away. I’d already had my hopes dashed today. I didn’t need to make create new ones only have them destroyed, too.
I looked at the car and its driver again. He didn’t seem like a serial killer. Still...
Oh, to hell with it. I sent a quick text to Lisette: The last # I called was 202-324-6475 n they sent driver to hospital to pick me up. Will txt or call in 2 hrs.
Then I turned off the ringer and alerts even as Lisette’s first text arrived, shoved the phone in my pocket, took a deep breath, and got into the car.
The chauffeur closed the door as I struggled out of my jacket. The interior was all fawn leather and burled wood, with two wide seats contoured into the back bench. A dark screen was mounted into the headrest in front of me. I ran my hand tentatively over the upholstery. The leather was
I could go back inside. There would be signs and directories there. But there were too many people there, too many bustling nurses and bewildered visitors. I had just escaped the hospital. I couldn’t make myself go back.
I zipped up my jacket and flipped up the hood. I hadn’t bothered to take it off inside the offices. I was always cold now, even inside. I arbitrarily picked a direction and began walking around the brick and glass monstrosity of the main hospital building.
A car will meet me? How strange was that? I didn’t have to go, I told myself. But I needed to do something. Something other than just wait to die.
The wind grew suddenly sharper as I got farther from the building on the main sidewalk that circled it. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I could feel fatigue dragging at me with every step. I would pay tomorrow for this walk—never mind the blind flight down the stairs.
For now, I didn’t care. I told my leg to swing, and it swung and held my weight, and that was enough for me.
The emergency department turned out to be on the opposite side of the center from the medical offices. By the time I rounded the second corner of the building, I was winded, and my legs were shaking. I trudged on, shutting out pain and exhaustion as I fixed my eyes on the sign over the emergency parking circle.
I stumbled under the protection of the canopy at the entrance. Finally.
“Ms. Shaw?”
I turned. There, at the curb, stood a man in an old-fashioned chauffeur’s uniform, complete with hat and gloves. The car he stood next to was an understated silver color, but the elegant shape screamed money. A Bentley, I realized as I recognized the symbol on the trunk.
Oh, really?
“I’m Cora Shaw,” I said cautiously.
The driver opened the rear passenger door. “Please, enter.”
I gaped at him for several seconds. I mean, a Bentley? I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe a yellow cab. The man on the phone had told me that they would send a car. And here it was. But that didn’t make it seem any less bizarre. It was, I decided, more than a little creepy.
“How do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?” I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest.
“I must admit, Ms. Shaw, that this is often a fear of our patients,” the chauffeur said evenly.
I waited for him to continue with his reassurances, but the man simply stood, waiting impassively.
I shifted from foot to foot. I could see the soft interior from here, and my whole body clamored for a chance to settle into the warm comfort it offered.
What if he was a kidnapper? I wondered. What is the worst that could happen? Well, I could get brutally mutilated and murdered, I supposed. Torture would be bad, but my death was coming pretty soon, anyway.
On the other hand, the best that could happen was, of course, a cure. I barely let myself think that for the tiniest instant before shutting it away. I’d already had my hopes dashed today. I didn’t need to make create new ones only have them destroyed, too.
I looked at the car and its driver again. He didn’t seem like a serial killer. Still...
Oh, to hell with it. I sent a quick text to Lisette: The last # I called was 202-324-6475 n they sent driver to hospital to pick me up. Will txt or call in 2 hrs.
Then I turned off the ringer and alerts even as Lisette’s first text arrived, shoved the phone in my pocket, took a deep breath, and got into the car.
The chauffeur closed the door as I struggled out of my jacket. The interior was all fawn leather and burled wood, with two wide seats contoured into the back bench. A dark screen was mounted into the headrest in front of me. I ran my hand tentatively over the upholstery. The leather was
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