Above Board

Chapter 12

The dim light from the square ceiling panels stung Brian's eyes as he was pushed along the corridor.

The wheels of his stretcher squeaked as they turned corners. Four or five medics in space suits surrounded him, one pushing from behind, two on either side and one pulling the front of the trolley.

"Please..." he croaked, trying to raise his head. "My sons...where are they?"

But either they couldn't hear him, or were ignoring him, Brian could not be sure. He could hear their shoes slapping against the polished marble floor.

His knuckles turned white as he tried to force himself free from the black straps holding his limbs in place.

"No, Brian, try not to move," a medic said, glancing down at him.

Brian reached for the medic's arm. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" he whispered.

The medic gently pulled their arm free. "Everything's going to be fine."

They reached the end of the corridor, and Brian was wheeled into a large room sheeted like a tent. He could see other white astronauts bending over patients.

The medics lifted Brian off the trolley and onto a bed.

"Brian, can you hear me?" A doctor wearing the same suit approached him.

Brian could not believe it. "Three years..." he murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"Three years and you've been here this whole time. I thought you'd all fled Britain a long time ago."

The doctor took out a stethoscope and listened to his chest.

"Your heart-rate is very slow. Dr Finley?" she called.

Another doctor came over. "What is it, Dr Partridge?"

"He's hypotensive, and his hands look in a bad way."

Dr Finley took a look. "Yes they are rather black and blue. How long have they been like this?"

"Two, maybe three days at most, I can't remember," Brian replied. He flung off the blanket and got to his feet.

"And where do you think you're going?" Dr Finley raised his eyebrows at Brian.

"My sons, Will and Joey, they must have been brought in with me. I've got to find them."

"Right, well you're not going anywhere, Mr McCormick, because you're very ill. You may have septic shock and I need you to get back into bed so we can assess you properly."

"My youngest son was bitten by a Straggler. He could be dead for all I know!" Brian took two steps forward and his legs gave way.

"Whoa, alright, Brian, alright. Can I get some help here please?" shouted Dr Partridge, struggling under Brian's sinking weight.

Dr Partridge grasped him under the arms while medical staff lifted Brian's legs and they carefully carried him back to the bed.

"This isn't helping him," said Dr Finley.

"Yes, he's been like this ever since we plucked him and the kids off the bridge," a medic cut in.

"Well, I think surgery is the best option because I don't like the look of his hands," suggested Dr Partridge.

"I agree. Can you see if the make-shift theatre's available?" asked Dr Finley.

As Dr Partridge was preparing to leave, Brian called out, "Can you find out if my sons are here? And the girl who was with us?"