05-03-2014, 08:36 PM
[[Continued from Hunt the Hunter]]
They were taken to Um Salama Hospital on the edge of the city.
Whether it was the closest hospital or not, Torri didn't have time to look. She was busy filling out as detailed a medical report as possible while on route. Everything from Michael's stats, age, weight, height, to allergies all went in the report she intended to swipe to the ER nurse station the second they were within range. She was used to far better tech upgrades than proximity swipes, but at least her tablet reported the hospital was a Tier C minimum institution. It could be worse, she surmised, but not much.
They turned the ramp into the ER bay and Torri's jaw dropped. The place was a clusterfuck of red and blue lights, ambulances, staff, and cars. No wonder the driver gave her a dirty look the entire ride.
They looped around the edge of the ramp, but rather than stopping at the curb, the car sped around the side of the building. Torri gripped the doorhandle and snapped at the driver. "Where are you taking us! The ER was back that way!"
He did not lift his gaze to the rearview mirror. "You're Custody aren't you? Both of you, yes?"
Torri paused. There was no way to escape the car without Michael, and she wouldn't leave him.
"Look. This man is in need of medical attention. I am a physician, his physician. And if you don't take us back, he could die. Do you want a man's life on your conscience?"
The car jerked to a sudden stop. Torri threw an arm across Michael's chest, but when she looked out the window it was with a fear of what she might see. It was just a pair of sliding glass doors. Her brows narrowed, confused.
The driver turned around and looked at her. His face was a statue. "This is employee's entrance. My nephew, I drop him here to work in mornings. You go in, take two rights, and you be in middle of Emergency Room."
Torri was shocked, but she didn't forget herself, and Michael made noises like he were trying to speak. "Thank you,"
she said and breathed deeply.
The pair of doors wooshed open at their presence, and right inside was a wheel chair that she used to take Michael into the ER proper. She raced down the hall, white robes billowing behind her like a physician's white coat. The medical report was ready to swipe to their staff physicians the second she saw the correct hub. She pat Michael on the shoulder and squeezed it encouragingly. "You're going to be fine, Michael. Just a little farther."
She licked her lips and took the second of the two right turns.
She came face to face with a wall of armed civilians. Arabic civilians. Male Arabic civilians that each in turn looked them up and down and one by one, their expressions darkened when they realized what they saw.
Torri swallowed viciously. A hospital overrun? It couldn't be! Not yet!
Behind them sprawled the glass bays of the ER. Every gurney was full. People on the floor were hooked to IV's that were slung to doorknobs over their head. Staff was yelling at one another. Alarms were going off. If she thought the unloading bay outside was a clusterfuck, she was utterly speechless by this chaos. And then she saw him and her blood ran cold. He ghosted by but even at this distance she knew his face when he turned to glance behind him.
She had no more thoughts for Hasan, only Michael, who at that moment slumped in the wheelchair. She sprang back to life and snapped the handles beneath her grip. The model wheelchair was a few years outdated, but the triggering mechanism worked well enough. The seat reclined into a flat surface that lay Michael back supine. She plucked a telescoping footrest from the seat on one end and yanked out a similar headrest on the back and suddenly his chair was transformed into a stretcher.
She rounded and attempted to push through the wall of Arabs. "Let me by! This man needs medical..."
but was cut off when one of them grabbed her arm. It took everything in her to not throw an elbow into his face. Instead, she twisted out of the grasp in a flurry of white robe that showed the gray of her uniform underarmor beneath. The man blinked with shock at her deftness, but his companions were more quick on the draw.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the rifle only a moment before she could disarm the man who raised it against her.
And all went dark.
They were taken to Um Salama Hospital on the edge of the city.
Whether it was the closest hospital or not, Torri didn't have time to look. She was busy filling out as detailed a medical report as possible while on route. Everything from Michael's stats, age, weight, height, to allergies all went in the report she intended to swipe to the ER nurse station the second they were within range. She was used to far better tech upgrades than proximity swipes, but at least her tablet reported the hospital was a Tier C minimum institution. It could be worse, she surmised, but not much.
They turned the ramp into the ER bay and Torri's jaw dropped. The place was a clusterfuck of red and blue lights, ambulances, staff, and cars. No wonder the driver gave her a dirty look the entire ride.
They looped around the edge of the ramp, but rather than stopping at the curb, the car sped around the side of the building. Torri gripped the doorhandle and snapped at the driver. "Where are you taking us! The ER was back that way!"
He did not lift his gaze to the rearview mirror. "You're Custody aren't you? Both of you, yes?"
Torri paused. There was no way to escape the car without Michael, and she wouldn't leave him.
"Look. This man is in need of medical attention. I am a physician, his physician. And if you don't take us back, he could die. Do you want a man's life on your conscience?"
The car jerked to a sudden stop. Torri threw an arm across Michael's chest, but when she looked out the window it was with a fear of what she might see. It was just a pair of sliding glass doors. Her brows narrowed, confused.
The driver turned around and looked at her. His face was a statue. "This is employee's entrance. My nephew, I drop him here to work in mornings. You go in, take two rights, and you be in middle of Emergency Room."
Torri was shocked, but she didn't forget herself, and Michael made noises like he were trying to speak. "Thank you,"
she said and breathed deeply.
The pair of doors wooshed open at their presence, and right inside was a wheel chair that she used to take Michael into the ER proper. She raced down the hall, white robes billowing behind her like a physician's white coat. The medical report was ready to swipe to their staff physicians the second she saw the correct hub. She pat Michael on the shoulder and squeezed it encouragingly. "You're going to be fine, Michael. Just a little farther."
She licked her lips and took the second of the two right turns.
She came face to face with a wall of armed civilians. Arabic civilians. Male Arabic civilians that each in turn looked them up and down and one by one, their expressions darkened when they realized what they saw.
Torri swallowed viciously. A hospital overrun? It couldn't be! Not yet!
Behind them sprawled the glass bays of the ER. Every gurney was full. People on the floor were hooked to IV's that were slung to doorknobs over their head. Staff was yelling at one another. Alarms were going off. If she thought the unloading bay outside was a clusterfuck, she was utterly speechless by this chaos. And then she saw him and her blood ran cold. He ghosted by but even at this distance she knew his face when he turned to glance behind him.
She had no more thoughts for Hasan, only Michael, who at that moment slumped in the wheelchair. She sprang back to life and snapped the handles beneath her grip. The model wheelchair was a few years outdated, but the triggering mechanism worked well enough. The seat reclined into a flat surface that lay Michael back supine. She plucked a telescoping footrest from the seat on one end and yanked out a similar headrest on the back and suddenly his chair was transformed into a stretcher.
She rounded and attempted to push through the wall of Arabs. "Let me by! This man needs medical..."
but was cut off when one of them grabbed her arm. It took everything in her to not throw an elbow into his face. Instead, she twisted out of the grasp in a flurry of white robe that showed the gray of her uniform underarmor beneath. The man blinked with shock at her deftness, but his companions were more quick on the draw.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the rifle only a moment before she could disarm the man who raised it against her.
And all went dark.