The Golden Coast: A Locklyle Fanfiction

Part 12

  "Where's Hol and Luce?" George asks, munching on a biscuit. He was still too stubborn to call them cookies. "They're probably at the seashore." Quill commented. Norrie, who was draped over an armchair reading a book, looked up. "I'm bored, we should go." Lockwood said. He was only saying it so he would get a chance to talk to Lucy, but it seemed to work. Quill and George threw off their clothes, revealing them already in swimming trunks. Norrie pulled her shirt over her head to reveal her own swimsuit. Lockwood grumbled as he trudged up the stairs. "Go ahead, I'll catch up." He needed to do a little thinking about what he should say anyways.

  When he finally got outside after a hurried change and sunscreen application, he heard sirens coming from the beach. He took a few steps, then realization hit him and his blood went cold. "No." he whispered, starting to run towards the sirens. 

  2 minutes earlier...

  Quill, Norrie and George were walking towards the beach when they heard Holly scream. They glanced at each other, eyes wide before running straight towards the sound. Quill glanced over at Norrie and George. Norrie had a knife in her hand, while George held an enormous magnesium flare. "Wot? Am I the only one unarmed?" Quill spluttered. "Yeah you are." Norrie replied. "You can borrow a chakram if you want." Quill looked at her, trying to gauge if she was joking. "Um, I'm fine." George inhaled sharply and Norrie's hands flew up to her mouth. 

  Holly was crouched over Lucy's crumpled form, splayed across the wet sand like a rag doll the waves had tossed up. She was unconscious, but the worst part wasn't just her expression of agony. 

  Long veins of red spiderwebbed across her entire arm, part of her torso and in multiple areas on her legs. "Jellyfish," George whispered, pure fear lacing his voice. Holly saw them, her eyes wide with anguish as paramedics began surrounding them, speaking in low voices that mixed with Holly's shrill explanation of what had happened. Lucy was promptly carted away in a stretcher, Quill, Holly, George and Norrie watching in barely concealed hysterics. Lockwood came running across the sand, a sight that would be funny if not for the severity of the situation. 

  Ten minutes later, they were at the hospital. Lockwood couldn't have been bothered to wait for a vehicle, googled the closest hospital and instantly started running. George, Norrie and Quill had followed, while Holly had rushed home to get their possessions. 

  Lockwood and Norrie led in the front, Quill attempting to keep up and miserably failing, and George barreling ahead, keeping a steady pace, even as Lockwood occasionally faltered. They ran the mile distance to the hospital, barged through the entrance and promptly got restrained by security. So, Norrie punched one in the face, threw herself away from him and all of them ran towards the reception desk.

  "Where's Lucy Carlyle?" Lockwood demanded breathlessly. The receptionist blinked once and answered: "Room 502, why-" but they were already running up the stairs. 

  They were forced into a waiting room, only being fed tiny bits of information. Norrie was pacing, Quill and George were slumped in chairs and Lockwood was running his hands through his hair, pacing even faster than Norrie. Holly, arriving moments later, was ashen and her normally calm composure was nervous and uncertain. 

  Finally, the doctor came in. The look on his face was disturbing, to say the least. 

  "She has a." he swallowed. "45% chance of recovery. She's still unconscious, but she's breathing occasionally, which is a good sign. The best we can do is keep on administering antidotes and keep her on support." he rubbed a gloved hand across his face. 

  Norrie punched the wall, a single tear ran down Holly's cheek and George covered his face. Lockwood was left, standing disbelievingly, in the middle of the room.