Trip waited the twenty minutes, slipping in and out of consciousness as death loomed over him. More than once, heâd sworn that life had skirted away from him, gone from his body like steam from a kettle. When Marco had dragged him inside, the nurses were struck with horror. This was a minor hospital, a little place in the middle of nowhere. Trouble rarely found the employees and, when it did, it rarely walked through the door with letters carved into its skin. Theyâd gone to work immediately, fingers shaking as urgency shook their psyches.
Now, an hour later, the tension had yet to subside. No one was certain that Trip would live. The blood loss and infection paled him, leaving him like a corpse. A passerby might have thought the scene an autopsy, not surgeons desperately working to save a life.Â
Outside, a young nurse stood next to Marco. Her shirt was covered in blood, a few splashes decorating her neck and arms. Sheâd been the one to great them at the door, the first to get her hands on Trip. Youthful as she was, her eyes held a distinct maturity. She had been far less nervous than even her most experienced colleagues.
"Is he a friend of yours?"
Marco paced in the room, worried for the stranger strapped to the hospital bed. âSure, you can say that,â He said in response to the prying nurse. In his personal experience, he always found it in his best interest to just smile and nod. Well, not smile in this case.That would have been highly inappropriate.
The young nurse watched him, brows coming closer together. âI can say that?â She mumbled, shifting her feet back. The police would be there soon enough. Sheâd let them deal with this man and his strange behavior. All she could do was make sure he only possible witness didnât slip out the door.
In another room of the hospital, another young nurse dialed Tripâs emergency number. The phone theyâd retireved it from was smashed, but the SD card had been in good enough shape for them to explore. She had contemplated calling the number âMomâ, but ultimately decided it was best to go for whoever was on speed dial one. The person placed there was usually the patientâs most valued friend or family member, after all. As the dial tone sounded, she tapped her nails on the desk. Then, once the ringing ended and another voice greeted her ear, she spoke.
"Hello, is this a Harold Giorgio? This is the Brookesville County Hospital. Do you know a Fitzwilliam Anderson?"
