The Professor

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Dead?

Dead.

That's what I think as I bury my head in Freddie's rain jacket and sob. He wraps his arms around my shaking body and squeezes, unable to offer much else in the form of comfort. The paramedics continue to work on him as Freddie's work colleagues chat with Clarissa. Nicole is fixated on her brother, unable to look away for fear of missing something. Freddie attempts to coax her into our embrace, but to no avail.

"Three, two, one, CLEAR!"

They shock my man and I hold my breath in anticipation.

"Again. Three, two, one, CLEAR!"

It isn't working.

Tears pool down my cheeks as I imagine the worst. The unthinkable. Clarissa has killed James. She got what she wanted. She's taken him from us.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," I chant, still pressed to Freddie's chest.

The brutal wind whips at our exposed flesh, though in a strange way, I'm immune to it. I feel nothing as I stand in the cold, damp forest with nothing but my dwindling hope. I don't want this to be where James dies. I don't want this to be the last place he remembers.

"We have a heartbeat," informs one of the paramedics and I swear to all things holy that I'll name my first born child after him.

Nicole gasps.

"He's alive?" asks Freddie, loosening his grip on me slightly.

I poke my head up just in time for one of them to strap an oxygen mask to James' face.

"Yes, but he's not out of danger yet. He has internal bleeding, and his brain has been starved of oxygen for a long time."

The pair work together in getting him onto the stretcher and quickly position him into the back of the ambulance. Freddie, Nic and I follow, barely giving Clarissa a moment's thought as we pass.

"We're taking him to John Radcliffe Hospital," informs the smaller of the two. "Follow us there."

Nic jumps in the back with him, leaving Freddie and I alone to follow in his car.

"This doesn't feel real," I admit, shaking in the passenger side.

We've left James' car abandoned on the side of the road, figuring we can deal with it later.

"I know. I've delt with situations like these hundreds of times, but never this close to my own family," he shares, eyes focused on the road ahead. "I've never been this fucking terrified before."

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the closer we get to the city centre.

"Nic won't cope," he says, voice cracking. If he..."

"He won't," I insist, making the decision to remain optimistic here on out. "He won't leave us. I know it."

He offers me a tight-lipped smile, appreciating my positive attitude in such dire circumstances. We may not feel like it, but James needs our support more than ever. Freddie's right. Nicole won't cope if James dies. I won't cope. So, death isn't an option. I'll murder him myself if he even so much as thinks about leaving us.

"We're looking for James Hudson," explains Freddie once we're situated at the hospital's reception desk.

His words come out in a jumbled rush, unrecognisable.

"A young man just came in with a stab wound," I elaborate. "We're his family."

"He's been rushed to surgery. You can wait in the family area." She points to a sign detailing exactly where to go.