ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(24)

Andrew thought about Pen and Bex, but then found someone else popping into his head. “I need to see someone else that is already here. A girl named Charlie. She got burned today by a deep fat fryer.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow. “I think I recall someone coming in with those injuries. What relation are you?”

Andrew looked down at the floor, examining the various stains and scuffs adorning the beige tiles of the waiting room. “I’m…a friend, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can find out for you.”

Andrew thanked the nurse and leaned back in the chair. The bruising on his ribs throbbed as his chest compressed against the hard, uncomfortable backrest. He let out a hiss.

The small waiting room was empty of people and the other chairs contained nothing except discarded magazines and folded newspapers. Apparently, weekday evenings were not peak-time for injures.

So the only two people admitted are both probably here because of me. Way to do my bit for national health.

Five minutes later, a young lady in a white tunic came and sat beside Andrew. She asked him a series of questions about the incident involving the boy and wrote down his replies on a printed form. Once she reached the end of the questionnaire, she smiled at Andrew and disappeared back into the staff only area of the hospital. Waiting for further news was a torment he could hardly bare. For all he knew, right now, the young boy he knocked over could have permanent injuries.

The over-sized clock on the waiting room wall moved along almost one full hour before anyone else came to speak to Andrew. It was the same male nurse that had met him in the car park.

He took a seat next to Andrew. “How are you doing?”

“Not bad, considering. Any news?”

The nurse smiled and nodded. “The boy you ran into is going to be fine. He has some bruising on his ribs and a mild concussion from where his head hit the windscreen or the road. Either way, he’ll be fine after an extended rest. He was awake for a while, but he’s sleeping at the moment.”

Andrew let all of the air out of his lungs in a great big huff and rubbed at his cheeks. “Thank god. Did you let his family know?”

“No. He wouldn’t give us anyone to contact. He just said to let him know when it was alright to leave.”

“That’s strange,” said Andrew. “Well, when he wakes up let him know I’m happy to drive him home.”

“I’ll tell him. Now about this girl you said you wanted to check on. I located her in the burns ward. She’s going to be okay, but the damage to her arm is…severe.”

“Permanent?” asked Andrew, not wanting to hear the answer.

The nurse nodded grimly. “She has second-degree burns above her elbow all the way down her arm. She’s in a great deal of pain so she’s been put on morphine.”

Andrew found himself unable to breathe, his bodily functions halted temporarily by the horror he was feeling.

“She’s asked to see you,” the nurse explained.

Andrew was surprised. “Really?”

The nurse stood up. “I’ll take you there now. She’ll probably be asleep once the treatment takes hold.”

Andrew stood up and followed the nurse out of the A & E department and passed through the waiting room for regular admittance. It was a great deal busier than the empty emergency room had been. They continued on to the treatment wards, taking an elevator up to the second floor and passing by the mournfully-silent Oncology Department. Finally, they reached the Burns Unit.

The nurse pushed open one of the swinging double-doors and stood aside for Andrew to enter. The first thing he noticed as he walked into the room was the suffocating odour of antiseptic creams and alcohol. The ward was cramped, divided into cubicles on both sides.

“She’s in bed number three,” the nurse explained, pointing up ahead.

Andrew thanked him and headed for Charlie’s cubicle – a set of canvass walls and a blue nylon curtain for the door. Andrew pulled aside the curtain and stepped inside. Charlie was staring right at him when he entered.

“Hi, Charlie,” he said, looking left and right for a chair to sit on. Before he found one, his eyes became fixated on the thick, white bandages covering her left arm. He quickly broke his stare and perched himself down on a nearby chair. It was a lot comfier than the ones in the waiting room.

“H-how are you doing?” he asked her.

She shook her head at him, weary from the morphine entering via the drip on her uninjured arm.