The Runner Hospital
VII.
8:00 in the morning, Masky was due for transfer out of the hospital, out of the city, out of the country. I had no time for a conversation here. All I could do was bust him out.
I found him comatose on a gurney, surrounded by a doctor and several suited men. I punched the doctor, grabbed the gurney, and shoved it through the crowd, chased by mad footsteps and radio chatter.
Someone even fired their gun. A bullet pierced my leg, right behind the knee, but by then I had already gathered enough momentum that I could shift my weight onto the gurney and ride out in style.
Until we came to the stairs, anyway. That part didn't go as planned.
But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. There was a crowd of people coming for my.. my... friend. And I needed him. I needed. Him. But I couldn't even lift my legs now, laying below a crashed stretcher with broken face at the bottom of a staircase.
So I reached deep inside, found the strength the Feared One must have sensed in me long ago, and...
..got arrested.
VIII.
In the back of a police van, handcuffed next to a Masky who had may as well have been dead, I realized no one would listen to my struggles and roars. I was in over my head. The cops didn't care that I was on a mission from my god.
All they cared about was getting our car past Grove Street without "hoodlums" shooting the van.
Grove Street... the next stop on my journey!
Did I have a chance?
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Proxy Mobile Post 75/96 Chapter 12 part five (introducing the ghost)
The Runner Hospital
IV.
In through the window, out with my drive to leave. The hospital was a real hole of shit. A shithole for the sick ages, and here I was climbing into the second floor because a Runner told me that's where he'd be.
Masky...
As I sneaked through corridors, a stolen doctor's mask over my broken face to be my only disguise in this Hell, my mind tried to predict what the ultimate significance was of Masky's being here.
Was he here to kill me? Or perhaps something different?
It was around this time that a nurse stopped me. They thought I was a temp and asked me to go help some doctor at a surgery some rooms down. I said I'd see what I could do.
V.
Devon Finnerty ..... was the name on the sheet of paper handed to me. Autopsy report. Gender unknown, occupation of known, identity in a state of flux thanks to the black splotch of blood covering a last name.
"Fork," said the faceless doctor. I passed him a narrow thing that looked like a fork. He stuck it up the cadaver's nose. The cadaver twitched. I brought this up. The doctor told me not to worry. "They're not dead, is all."
"Are they at least unconscious?"
A shrug. "I don't know." The fork goes in deeper. Doctor reacts to something. "Ah, there's the brain." Slowly withdraws fork, a bit of gray matter on the end. "Now they're dead."
I didn't have the stomach for this, so I excused myself and left the room. I didn't care that this attracted the attention of some suited people. They asked what the problem was, and I had nothing to tell them. Instead I just kept going down the hallway, looking a little more desperately for he who I came here for.
IV.
In through the window, out with my drive to leave. The hospital was a real hole of shit. A shithole for the sick ages, and here I was climbing into the second floor because a Runner told me that's where he'd be.
Masky...
As I sneaked through corridors, a stolen doctor's mask over my broken face to be my only disguise in this Hell, my mind tried to predict what the ultimate significance was of Masky's being here.
Was he here to kill me? Or perhaps something different?
It was around this time that a nurse stopped me. They thought I was a temp and asked me to go help some doctor at a surgery some rooms down. I said I'd see what I could do.
V.
Devon Finnerty ..... was the name on the sheet of paper handed to me. Autopsy report. Gender unknown, occupation of known, identity in a state of flux thanks to the black splotch of blood covering a last name.
"Fork," said the faceless doctor. I passed him a narrow thing that looked like a fork. He stuck it up the cadaver's nose. The cadaver twitched. I brought this up. The doctor told me not to worry. "They're not dead, is all."
"Are they at least unconscious?"
A shrug. "I don't know." The fork goes in deeper. Doctor reacts to something. "Ah, there's the brain." Slowly withdraws fork, a bit of gray matter on the end. "Now they're dead."
I didn't have the stomach for this, so I excused myself and left the room. I didn't care that this attracted the attention of some suited people. They asked what the problem was, and I had nothing to tell them. Instead I just kept going down the hallway, looking a little more desperately for he who I came here for.
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