Текст книги "The Haunted Pub"

Автор книги: Melanie Tushmore

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

passed out, he had died.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck.” Ryan forced his body to move, ignoring the pain. His first thought was to go

out, get help, get the defibrillator from downstairs in the bar. Then his eyes fell on the paramedic’s

abandoned kit bag. Oh, please, please. Ryan crawled toward it, fingers reaching out to snatch the

handle and drag it across the floor. It was heavy, but he prayed that weight inside would save the day.

Ryan knew what a defib looked like; they had a smaller version in the bar. Ginger had shown him

how to use it. Ryan had hoped he’d never have to. With trembling hands, he pulled a defib machine

from the bag. The kit spilt everywhere; razor, safety scissors, cardiac pads. Ryan held the machine,

clutching it, the pads, and wires to his chest. Then he grabbed the scissors and crawled over the floor,

toward Sheila. He tried to ignore Beth, still encouraging the apparition of Fizz back into his body.

Ryan put it out of his mind. He had to focus on the flesh and blood body on the floor. He placed the

defib on the floor beside Sheila. The scissors fell out of his trembling hands, clattering to the floor,

but he quickly picked them up again.

“One, two, three, four,” Sheila grunted out, doing compressions on Fizz’s chest. “That’s it, Ryan,”

she said quickly, before bending over Fizz’s mouth again. Ryan had to move fast. While Sheila

breathed into Fizz, Ryan used the scissors to cut the bottom of Fizz’s t-shirt, then threw them aside

and yanked hard on the fabric until it ripped open.

Sheila was already waiting to do more compressions. It was all moving too fast, and with every

second, Fizz’s life hung in the balance. Ryan reached for the pads next. His fingers trembled too

much, and Sheila had to take over.

“Let me.” She snatched the pads, placing one on the centre of Fizz’s chest, the other to the side. She

turned on the machine. “Get back, Ryan.” The machine came on – thank God – and whirred to life.

“Clear.” Sheila pressed the button. An electrical current buzzed from the machine. Chu-chk.

Fizz’s body jerked on the floor. His eyes remained closed.

Ryan held his breath, praying, willing Fizz to wake up. Sheila leaned over his body, breathed into

his mouth again. Ryan had to look up, where Beth stood above them. A perfect vision of Fizz gazed

down at him, his blue eyes looked lost, confused.

“Please,” Ryan told him. “Jamie, please. Come back.”

“Clear,” Sheila said. Ryan heard the buzz of electricity, the Chu-chk sound as it jolted through the

body next to him. The vision of Fizz wavered; his eyes went wide, then he collapsed soundlessly, in

slow motion. Ryan watched the vision fade into mere wisps, and the wisps sucked into Fizz’s body. A

gasping breath had never sounded so sweet. Ryan watched Fizz open his eyes, as the boy stared up at

them, sucking in air.

Sheila let out a sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh. She smoothed the hair from Fizz’s face.

“Well done, love. Thought we’d lost you there.”

Beth dropped down next to them, laying her pendant on Fizz’s heaving chest. “You’re one very

lucky boy.”

Fizz gazed up at them, blinking. His eyes were a deep, deep blue. “I...I am?”

Ryan breathed in relief. He certainly was.

Chapter Twenty

Ryan’s body protested as he moved, but he had to get out of that room. He had to check on Ginger.

He left Fizz, dazed, in the capable hands of Beth, who had helped him to sit up against the wall. Sheila

had rushed over to Matt, who was freaking out because Sammy wasn’t moving.

“He’s breathing,” Sheila said. “Unconscious. Did he hit his head?” Her voice trailed away in Ryan’s

ears. Ryan staggered to his feet, muscles screaming in agony. The bodies of Pete and the two

paramedics still lay lifeless on the floor. Ryan couldn’t look at them, prayed they were still breathing,

but he had to get to Ginger.

The sun had set, and the hallway had lost its pinkish tint. In the receding daylight, the pigeon loft

felt clearer than it had in ages, but Ryan still felt suffocated. As soon as he escaped, he breathed in

deep. Ginger was still on the floor, in the recovery position they’d left him in. Ryan sank to his knees,

wincing in pain. Why did his body hurt so much? It was as if he suffered the results of that beating in

the vision. Those awful men, the way they’d clawed and...

A sob broke out of him. Ryan closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from seeing, from

remembering. They weren’t his memories. It was all too much. He curled over Ginger’s body, clinging

onto the other man’s shoulder, and the arm that hung limp at his side. Ryan hadn’t cried in years,

couldn’t even remember the last time he had, but he cried now. A well of despair swirled inside him,

and he didn’t know what to do. He was hurting too much.

At first he didn’t feel the hand on his shoulder. Someone said his name and, for one hopeful

moment, he thought it’d been Ginger. When Ryan looked up, he saw Beth crouching next to him. She

smiled at him kindly, her pale grey eyes holding his. She helped him up to sitting, then placed

something in his hand. Ryan looked down at the object. Beth’s wooden pendant. It was wood, surely,

yet it felt curiously hot.

“What –”

“Shh,” she soothed, her hand on his shoulder. With her other, she closed his fingers over the

pendant. “You’re holding onto pain that doesn’t belong to you,” she said softly. “Let it go.”

“Huh? I-I don’t –”

“Let go, Ryan.”

He breathed out a sigh and focussed on the awful images he’d been trying to ignore. The pendant

grew hotter in his hand, almost burning. His skin tingled, a shudder ran down his spine.

“Wh-what’s happening?”

“I’m taking away the pain that doesn’t belong to you. I can’t take away what you saw, but your

body won’t feel it now.”

Ryan breathed again, and was amazed to find that his ribs didn’t hurt. In fact, his body wasn’t

hurting at all. He felt oddly calm. “How...how did you...?”

“Don’t worry about it for the moment.” She smiled at him, patting his hand over the pendant. “Keep

hold of this. You can give it back to me later.”

Ryan watched her fish inside her pocket, pulling out a thin sliver of a mobile phone. He’d been

expecting more pendants, not a piece of modern technology. Beth dialled, putting the phone to her ear.

“Ambulance,” she stated clearly.

The word brought Ryan back to the moment. Ambulance. People unconscious. Ash, Sammy, Pete,

the two paramedic’s. Ginger. Ryan snapped his eyes back to Ginger, still unmoving. He was breathing,

just barely. Ryan stared at his face, willing him to open his eyes.

Maybe Beth could do something? She was speaking on her phone, explaining in a vague way that a

number of people had collapsed upstairs in the building, including the two paramedics. Ryan could

hear the operator asking questions, and Beth giving replies, but he wasn’t listening. At the back of his

mind, he realised that Rachel was downstairs, manning the bar on her own, on a busy Saturday night.

He should probably call Dom, the area manager. Or maybe he could call round the local pubs, and

pool an emergency cover team together.

The thoughts of work whirled on the brink of his mind as he stared down at Ginger. Ryan couldn’t

move away, couldn’t even contemplate moving away. He sat in the curve of Ginger’s body, in too

much shock to act on anything.

* * *

Paramedics stormed up the stairs, crowding around Ginger, trying to move Ryan away as he clung

fast. Beth told them he was in shock. Ryan could hear the words, but he didn’t care. He just had to stay

with Ginger. There was shouting, barked orders. More paramedics squeezed past him, going into the

pigeon loft as Beth instructed. Sheila called to them from inside, and Ryan heard her voice giving a

vague explanation of what had happened.

Then the police arrived, asking questions. Sheila and Beth answered what they could.

“And do you live here?” the officer in charge asked, as two paramedics hefted Ginger onto a

stretcher. They had to move him first, in order to clear the stairwell.

“Nah, mate,” Beth replied, her voice affecting a vacant tone. “We’re friends, we were just drinking

downstairs. We came up to help. Dunno what happened. It’s really weird.”

Ryan left them all behind, following the stretcher down the stairs. Someone had put a blanket

around his shoulders. On one level, he felt faintly ridiculous but, overall, he didn’t care. It felt surreal

to exit through the side door with the paramedics. Ginger’s body was on the stretcher, carried across

the pavement. The night sky was lit up with the now silent flash flash flash of the emergency vehicles,

all parked outside the pub. People he knew spilled out onto the pavement, some even blocking the

road, to get a good look.

Another patrol car arrived. Its siren whirred lowly, as a warning for the gawkers to move away, as it

parked on the curb. Ryan turned his back on it all. He couldn’t lose sight of Ginger. He clutched the

wooden pendant tightly in his hand, feeling like he was on the verge of losing his mind any moment.

Ryan was allowed to sit in the ambulance with Ginger. He climbed inside, helped up by the

paramedics. They spoke to him, but he only answered if they pressed it. He mumbled, “I’m fine.”

It all felt like a dream, or a nightmare. This kind of stuff only happened in movies, didn’t it?

In the ambulance, things were a little quieter. The world outside was noisy, panicked, and flashing

in blue. “What happened?” the voices outside kept asking each other. Muttered speculation.

“Dunno, everyone’s collapsed, apparently.”

A man, one of the paramedics, opened up the door. “Mind the step. That’s it.” He helped someone

in. Ryan glanced up briefly, long enough to see that it was Rachel, then Matt, then he went back to

staring at Ginger.

The paramedic got in after them, and shut the door. “Right, then, let’s get going.”

Rachel was in tears, though Ryan knew that she was unharmed. Thank God. Matt, too, appeared

fine. He sat silently at the end of the bench, his fists clenched tightly. The paramedic crouched in the

narrow aisle, making sure that the stretcher holding Ginger’s body was secured. Someone, another

paramedic, presumably, got into the front of the vehicle and started the engine.

“I just don’t get it,” Rachel sobbed. “What happened? The police asked if it was a gas leak...”

“They’ve closed the pub,” Matt said quietly. “They’ve actually got the yellow tape out, like for

crime scenes.”

Oh, right. Ryan answered in his mind, but the words never untangled themselves enough to make it

into speech. He focussed all his energy into willing Ginger to wake up.

* * *

“I’m fine,” Fizz said. “Please, let me walk.” He didn’t want anybody having to carry him down all

those stairs. The poor paramedics had enough work to do carrying everyone else. His room was full of

people; people collapsed on the floor, being lifted onto stretchers, paramedics tending to them. Fizz

had wanted to see Ash, but Ash was swallowed up in a sea of green uniform as the paramedics

swooped in.

“He’s fine.” Sheila was by his side. “Just not awake yet. I think Sammy came off the worst out of

this, he’s probably got a broken arm.”

“Sammy?” Fizz looked around, trying to see who exactly was in the room with him. What had

happened? He had no memory of this. Had he blacked out? He’d woken up with a jolt, to see a smiling

red-head, Sheila, leaning over him. Ryan, and a blonde lady he’d seen in the pub before, had been

there too. Where were they now?

A blanket wrapped around him tightly. Fizz’s t-shirt had been slashed in two, left hanging like an

open waistcoat. Little round, sticky pads were on his bare chest. Sheila told him he’d stopped

breathing, and they’d had to do CPR.

Fizz didn’t understand. “Why wasn’t I breathing? Can I see Ash now?”

One of the paramedics, a man, helped Fizz to stand. Keeping an arm around him, he started to walk

him out of the room. “Ash?”

“You can see him later.” Sheila caught up to his other side. “Can’t he, Nige?”

The paramedic said, “Yeah, wait till we get to the hospital, check you all over. You coming in the

van, Sheila? They won’t mind, as they know you.”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Sheila moved in front, as the hall ahead was too narrow for the three of them.

“Good job I can nip to the staff room and get my own tea bags, though.”

Fizz moved in a daze. He was walked down the stairs, and outside to what looked like a scene from

a disaster movie; ambulances, police cars, flashing lights, and yellow tape saying Police Do Not

Cross.

Fizz felt panic swirl in his stomach. “Do you know my cousin?” he asked Sheila. They led him to an

ambulance, helping him inside.

“Dan? Yes, he’ll be at the hospital, too,” Sheila said, sitting down on a bench. Fizz sat next to her,

then did a double take as he realised that opposite them was a body on a stretcher, a man he didn’t

recognise.

“It’s okay.” Sheila squeezed his hand. “He’s just unconscious. That was one of the guys who first

came to help, and he, um...collapsed like everyone else.”

“Oh my God!” Fizz stared at the man, strapped into the stretcher. His eyes were shut, like he was

asleep. “Is...is my cousin okay?”

“He collapsed too, love. I’m sure everyone will be fine, though.”

“Oh God!” Fizz tried to stand, the blanket stopped his arms from moving. Sheila urged him to sit.

The paramedic, the one Sheila had called Nige, closed the vehicle door with a slam. Fizz’s panic

spiked. Where was Ginger? And Ash? What the hell had happened to everyone?

“Please.” He gripped onto Sheila. “I need to see them. What happened? I have to know they’re

okay!”

“They will be,” she answered calmly.

In his confusion, Fizz mistook her calm for indifference. He pushed away from her, trying to pull

the blanket off him. “Let me out!”

The paramedic swiftly undid Fizz’s blanket, but pushed him down to sitting with strong hands.

“Hold still,” he said firmly. “We can’t have you moving about when the van starts. You can see

everyone at the hospital.”

Fizz didn’t understand. He felt something tug at the edge of his memory, like a dream he could

almost remember. The panic took over his actions, making him want to move, to do something. The

man pulled out a syringe, and in a patient voice explained that it would “help him relax.”

“But what about the others?” Fizz trembled as they held him still.

“They’ll be all right,” Sheila said. “Just do as Nigel says, love.”

The needle stung his arm slightly. He winced, watching the plunger go down, pushing clear liquid

into his body. Would it react with his pills? It was probably stronger. Fizz had been sedated before, at

the dentist’s when he was younger. It was the only way the dentist could get near him. He hadn’t liked

it then, and he didn’t like it now.

Nigel encouraged him to lie down, and when Fizz tried to blink, his eyes stayed closed.

* * *

In a little side room, two nurses had Ryan, Rachel and Matt sit on the bed and chairs, while they

checked them over. All their vitals were fine; responses, blood pressure. Rachel had to be given a

sedative, as she was close to hysterics.

Strangely, her panic was what made Ryan realise he had to stay calm.

When they’d pulled up outside casualty, and more nurses had rushed out to help with the stretchers,

Ryan had panicked at being separated from Ginger. When Rachel lost it and burst into tears, Ryan

realised his choices were sedation, or to calm down.

He chose to calm down. He squeezed Beth’s pendant tight in his hand, and thought to himself, as

soon as he had a chance he’d sneak away and see Ginger. The nurses with them said that everyone else

who’d been brought in was stable. That was all that mattered.

“If you just do these tests with us now,” one of them said, “then we’ll take you to see your friends.”

Ryan nodded numbly, going along with what they wanted. Rachel was helped onto the bed to lie

down, and encouraged to sleep.

When Ryan and Matt were handed little pots, Matt threw Ryan a frustrated scowl. “I’m not pissing

in this!” he declared.

“It’s the quickest test we can do,” the older nurse explained. “We need blood samples too.”

“What? Why?” Matt frowned at her. “I’m fine. Ryan’s fine. Rachel’s fine. We’re all fine!”

“We don’t know that,” she said. “And until a diagnosis comes back on your friends, they might

even have to quarantined. We need to make sure you aren’t at risk.”

“I’m not –” Matt stopped himself from talking. Ryan looked at him, trying to convey warning in his

eyes. Matt breathed in. “Okay,” he said. “Fine.” He got up and stomped into the closet bathroom,

slamming the door behind him.

Ryan clutched the empty sample pot in one hand, the pendant in the other. How had it come to this?

The nurses spoke in hushed tones, darting wary glances at him. One of them left the room, while the

other moved over to the bed, checking on Rachel.

The door to the bathroom opened a crack. “Ryan,” Matt hissed. “Come and...help me pee.”

Ryan knew instinctively that Matt didn’t actually need help peeing. At least, he bloody hoped not.

He stood up, leaving his blanket on the chair.

The nurse glanced over her shoulder at him. “You two all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Matt said. “I...look, we’ll be out in a minute.” He stood aside to let Ryan in.

“Keep the door open,” the nurse said. Matt relented, only closing the door partway, mostly to hide

them from the nurse’s view.

In the cramped, fluorescent-lit bathroom, he bent his mouth to Ryan’s ear. “What do we say

happened? Please tell me you saw all that, and I didn’t turn crazy when I woke up this morning?”

Ryan opened his hand, staring at Beth’s pendant. “I saw it,” he said quietly.

“Thank God.” Matt placed a hand on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long moment, and

Ryan could almost hear Matt’s mind churning away. His own was going through the same, chewing

things over and over. Had it been real? Had they really seen Fizz acting like some crazy person, with

the room bleeding all around them? And had Ryan seen a vision, someone else’s memories, or had he

dreamt it? Matt hadn’t seen that vision, had he?

“Did you see him?” Matt whispered. “Did you see Fizz step out of – I mean, like he wasn’t in his

own body? And the body collapsed, just like that.”

Ryan saw it in his mind’s eye as Matt described it. A shiver ran down his spine. “I saw it,” he

repeated. Was more was there to say? He’d seen it all.

The door was pulled open, and the older nurse stood there, watching them like she might a pair of

naughty children. “You both okay?”

“Yes,” Matt gritted out.

Another figure stepped into view, and Ryan’s heart skipped when he saw the police uniform. He

greeted them in a casual tone. “Hello, there. Just need to ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”

Ryan nodded. He tried his best not to look guilty, but he didn’t think it worked.

Matt was the one who sprang into action. “Can we pee in private? Apparently we have to pee in

these pots.”

“Yeah, of course.” The officer gestured to them, and Matt shut the door.

“Please don’t lock it,” the nurse called to them.

Matt turned worried eyes on Ryan. “So what do we tell them?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not much good, is it!” Matt hissed in a whisper.

Ryan sighed. “What do you want me to say, Matt?”

“I don’t know. Where’s your friend Sheila, and that other girl, Beth? I mean, can’t they explain it?”

Ryan waved his hand, gesturing for Matt to keep his voice down. For all they knew, the officer had

his ear to the door seam, taking notes.

“Let’s just...” He lowered his voice, pulling Matt against him to whisper in his ear. “Let’s just tell

the truth, but leave out all the...weird stuff. They’ll never believe us anyway.”

Matt nodded fervently. “Yeah, too right. I wouldn’t blame ‘em.”

“Right.”

After peeing in their respective pots, they shuffled out from the bathroom, handing their samples to

the nurse. She took them and sat at the desk, dipping various tabs of paper into their urine, as Matt

pulled a disgusted face. The other nurse left, and the police officer sat with them. Ryan tried to put

himself in the man’s shoes. What must he be thinking?

“I should maybe call our boss,” Ryan said, thinking aloud.

“I think someone’s already spoken to whoever owns the building,” the officer said. He had a pen

and notepad ready. Ryan mused that the notepad was too small to fit much in, and that the officer

would have to have very neat writing to make the most of that space.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

Matt and Ryan exchanged a glance. “What, both of us together?” Matt asked.

“This is just a first round of inquiry. We’re just starting to get statements in. Once you’re deemed

fit and healthy, we’ll probably need you to do full statements with us later.”

“Okay.” Matt turned to Ryan again. “You tell him, then.”

“Will this be quick?” Ryan asked. “I really wanted to see...I mean, we wanted to see our friends.”

“Course you do. No, this won’t take long. We’re just trying to establish exactly what happened, in

case there’s further risk. We got everyone out, cordoned off the building, and called in the gas board,

but there aren’t any initial signs of a gas leak. That’s still our main cause for concern, at the moment.”

“Oh, right.” Ryan breathed in disguised relief. “Well, yeah, that part of the building is pretty old.”

“Was it recently opened?”

“Yeah, we –”

The door swung open, and two more men appeared. One was in police uniform, another was in

normal clothes; dark jeans and a jacket, nothing memorable, just average. Ryan was wondering who he

was until the man pulled out a wallet and flipped it open to reveal his badge. “Hello there, I’m

Detective Inspector Walsh. This has been a busy night, hasn’t it? You boys all right?”

Ryan was instantly terrified, but managed to nod. Matt stared at the floor.

“Do you want to take over, sir?” the first officer asked.

“Have you got far?” the detective pulled up a chair next to him.

The officer shook his head. “Just started.”

“I’m just in time, then.” The detective smiled at them, and Ryan thought he seemed pleasant

enough, but cagey. He supposed it paid to be cagey in his line of work. “So, lads, can you talk me

through what happened tonight?”

Ryan tried to breathe calmly. He’d tell the detective as much as he could, but he was going to have

to be a little inventive skirting round the unexplainable and frightening memories that played over and

over in his mind, like a snagged movie reel.

Chapter Twenty-one

Fizz knew he had to be dreaming. He was on a boat, staring at water. He’d never been on a boat in

his life. How strange. There was dark-skinned man, naked to the waist, wearing a turban, drawing

patterns on the wooden deck with a piece of chalk. Sigils. Fizz didn’t know how he knew this, but

knew for certain they were sigils used for protection, healing…

That was the only thing he remembered before he woke up. He knew there had been other things in

the dream, but he couldn’t recall anything. He blinked in the gloom. Where was he? A room. A room

that beeped, and made noises. Someone coughed from far away, and it echoed off walls. It was dark

here, but not pitch black. Light filtered in through from an open door, and Fizz heard female voices

talking in hushed tones, a subdued laugh, and the rustle of paper. A smell of disinfectant and cheap,

starched bedclothes met his nose. He knew instantly where he was; a hospital.

Fizz still felt half asleep, but found himself sitting up, pulling pads, clips and tubes away from his

body. He had somewhere more important to be. He wasn’t awake enough to realise what, he just knew

he had to go.

The floor felt cold under his bare feet. Fizz wandered through the gloom, pushing aside thin

material curtains. Bodies lay in beds, machines whirring quietly next to them. Beep beep beep. The

beeps were good, it meant they were alive. Fizz wondered if he was still dreaming.

When he found who he was looking for, he stood close enough to touch, but was almost afraid to.

He stared down at the sleeping body. This boy wasn’t much older than him, with dark, burnished skin,

and glossy black hair. His face was delicately handsome, marred somewhat by the clear plastic tubing

fed into his nose. Fizz knew that if those eyes had been open, they’d be deep, deep brown, and the

boy’s lips would curve up in a warm smile.

Subdued and hazy, Fizz reached out his fingers, holding the boy’s hand. A plastic clip was on his

index finger, hooked up to a machine that made the beep beep beep.

“Ash?”

The boy didn’t respond. He slept on, as if he’d be that way forever. Fizz wasn’t sure how long he

stood there, but when a woman with a strange, unusual accent came for him, he went with her

willingly. She put him back into his bed, reattaching the clipper to his finger. Fizz closed his eyes, and

he was back in his dream. The wind was in his hair, and he could smell the salt on the waves.

* * *

Ryan decided that Sheila was his saving grace. Not only had she appeared halfway through the

police statements to back up his and Matt’s story, but she’d brought cups of tea.

There honestly wasn’t a lot they could tell the police anyway, and the prospect of a gas leak or

some phenomena with the building was suspect number one, as far as Ryan could make out. There had

been questions about alcohol and drugs, but the initial tests from everyone had come up clean.

Ryan was relieved. There were the two paramedics who’d collapsed too, so that rather pointed to

something in the building being to blame. Ryan blamed the pigeon loft entirely. He hoped the place

would get sealed off for good.

After Detective Walsh and the police had gone, Sheila and a nurse took Ryan and Matt to the ward.

They left Rachel asleep, with the other nurse, who promised to take good care of her. Sheila chatted

with the second nurse, as they led the boys down corridors, through the hospital and onto a quiet ward.

There were so many people affected, they’d been given their own ward. Ryan wondered if they’d

get quarantined, like in zombie movies. He quickly pushed that thought away, and chided himself for

thinking about it in the first place.

The beds were lined up in rows. The two paramedics, then Ash. On the other side were Sammy,

Fizz, Pete, Ginger.

Sheila explained that Fizz wasn’t unconscious, he’d been sedated because he’d become upset in the

ambulance on their way here. Everyone else was stable, but in a comatose state, for reasons that the

doctors couldn’t determine.

Out of eyesight of the nurse, Sheila gave them a lingering look. “But they will be all right,” she

said. Ryan desperately wanted to believe her.

“And Sammy?” Matt had moved over to his bedside. The boy was in visibly worse shape than

anyone else, with his right arm in plaster, and a bandage around his head.

“Broken arm,” Sheila stated. “Possibly concussion, but until he wakes up, they won’t know more.

He’s been in for tests, and there doesn’t appear to be any swelling in his head, so hopefully it wasn’t a

big thump. Looks like his arm and shoulder took the brunt of it, and they will heal.”

Matt shot a look at Ryan, then glanced warily in the direction of Fizz’s bed. Ryan followed his

gaze. No, he couldn’t believe it either. That tiny slip of a boy, who looked like he couldn’t even snap a

twig, had thrown Sammy across with enough force to break bones.

It was incredible.

A doctor appeared at the other side of the ward, perusing a clipboard, flipping pages away in

frustration. The nurse walked off in shuffling footsteps, to speak with the doctor. In her absence, with

just Sheila and Matt in earshot, Ryan said quietly, “But it wasn’t Fizz, was it?”

“No,” Sheila whispered back. “It wasn’t.”

Matt didn’t look convinced. The way he glared at Fizz, then looked at Sammy with a worried frown,

Ryan didn’t think Matt would be forgiving Fizz any time soon.

* * *

They went home with Sheila. Ryan didn’t want to leave the ward, didn’t want to leave Ginger’s

bedside, but it was a decision he was forced to make when Detective Walsh popped up again. Ryan

knew that if he hung around, he’d be asked more questions. Ryan felt forced away from Ginger under

duress.

Rachel’s father had come by to pick her up, and she went home with him sleepily. Ash’s father too,

had arrived, and caused an almighty fuss at the ward. He was probably the reason the police reemerged,

Ryan thought. Mr. Singh demanded action, and yet there was nothing to be done, as the

police tried explaining to him.

It was nearly midnight, and Ryan started to lag. Sheila offered him and Matt a place to crash for the

night. They wouldn’t be able to return to the pub anyway, as it was effectively being treated as a crime

scene. “We can come back here first thing tomorrow,” Sheila promised, leading them out of the ward.

She said goodbye and waved to some of the staff, and Ryan had to trust her judgement.

As long as he knew Ginger and their friends were being cared for, there was little else he could do

except sob at their bedsides.

Exiting the hospital, they walked the short distance in the dark to the taxi rank, and Sheila put them

in the backseat. She got in the passenger seat up front, and directed the driver where to go. Ryan knew

she didn’t live far from the hospital. He hoped that by morning the police would have left, and he

could visit the ward in peace.

Matt was jittery at his side, biting his thumbnail. It made a grinding sound in Ryan’s ears, and not

even the taxi’s radio playing a weekend party anthem could drown it out.

Ryan still clutched Beth’s wooden pendant, when Sheila let them into her bungalow. “Come in,

come in,” she said, flicking on lights. “Steve’s still out. Beth texted to say she found them at The

Druids, so they’ll probably be there for a while.”

“Sorry for ruining your night, Sheila,” Ryan said quietly. “But thanks for...everything.”

She wrapped an arm around him, guiding him into the living room. “Don’t talk like that, Ry. I’m

glad I was there to help.” She gestured to her couch, and Ryan gratefully sat down. Sheila grabbed

Matt’s arm next, patting his large back as she guided him to sit. “Make yourselves at home,” she said.

“I’m going to put the kettle on.”

After the trailed away to the kitchen, Matt said sidelong, “I feel like a need a bottle of whiskey and