Pipe Dream (The King's Men from Andrew's POV) ✔️

Chapter Thirteen (Pt. 1)

Nearly four hours after the riot first started, the Foxes were parked outside one of the local hospitals, their bus taking up two spaces in the very back of the parking lot. It was one of the only spots left when they got there -this hospital, just like the three other hospitals in the area, was overwhelmed with victims from the riot-  but the crowd had noticeably faded as time passed. Andrew guessed it was good thing. At least it meant people were being treated and the Foxes were getting closer to being released.

Normally, the Foxes would've patched themselves up - their wounds weren't that severe and Abby had more than enough for them in her medical bag. But Wymack had insisted on checking some of them in so they could have paperwork for school records. He'd taken the three with the most extensive wounds: Matt, Renee, and Nicky, but most of the Foxes went into the hospital anyway. Allison went with Renee, Dan with Matt, and Aaron with Nicky, just in case they got separated from the others in the chaotic emergency room, which left Andrew, Kevin, and Abby on the bus.

Wymack had told Andrew to go in, too, but Andrew had pretended not to hear him. He'd been using Kevin's phone to look up and call the other local hospitals since they'd left the stadium. He'd just dialed the third one when Wymack finally gave up on him, turning to walk the others across the parking lot to the emergency room just as another flustered-sounding receptionist told Andrew through the phone that no one by the name of Neil Josten had been brought in.

Now Andrew sat on the edge of his seat on the bus, a half-melted ice pack Abby had forced onto him in his hand. Abby had threatened to put it on his eye herself and he'd taken it if only to get her off his back. It now dripped condensation onto the bus floor, and Andrew watched it, his hand numb where he gripped the cold compress.

In his other hand was Neil's phone. The exterior screen blinked with missed calls -Dan and Renee had both tried to call him before Andrew had come back to the bus with Neil's bag. Andrew didn't move to flip it open though. He just tightened his fingers around it until his knuckles ached.

In front of him, Kevin was crouching in the aisle. He had Neil's gear bag spread across his lap and he was systematically pulling Neil's gear out and laying it on the seat next to him, checking to make sure it was all there and undamaged. He showed nothing on his expression, but Andrew could see his quiet panic in the paleness of his face, the tightness of his mouth. He glanced at Andrew, but quickly looked away once their eyes met.

There was a knock on the bus door, breaking up the silence that hadn't budged since Wymack and the others had gone inside. Abby had been organizing her medical bag, but moved to the driver's seat at the noise, reaching out to pull the lever to open the door. A second later, Nicky and Aaron were stepping onto the bus. They looked exhausted. Nicky's shoulders were slumped forward and he held his arm, which was tightly wrapped in neat bandages, close to his stomach. Someone must've noticed Aaron's head wound while they were inside because it, too, was covered in a fresh gauze.

Abby gave them a once-over, making sure the hospital had done a sufficient job, before nodding and letting them past her. "Are the others with you?" she asked.

Nicky and Aaron made their way to their usual seats. It was Aaron who answered Abby. "No," he said, sitting down. "We got put into different sections. It was crazy in there."

"Coach's been keeping me updated," Kevin said, standing. He waved his phone, which Andrew had given back after his third round of calls to the hospital turned up nothing. "He's with the others. They're making their way out now."

Nicky half-turned in his seat, his eyes wide as he looked to Andrew over the backs of bus seats. "Any news on Neil?"

Andrew looked at the phone in his hand, then out the window. A part of him wanted to throw the stupid thing at the glass, wanted to watch it shatter and break apart. He wanted to take the keys from Abby and drive around the city, banging down whatever doors, cutting down whoever stood in his way, until he found the idiot and dragged him back. But he shoved that part deep down, closing it behind that door inside himself. Instead, he focused on the ice pack in his hand, on the numbness spreading from his fingers up his wrist. He wrapped that icy nothing around his heart and forced everything else down, down, down.