Smoking Power

Chapter 22

Amber looks at me with wide eyes and shakes her head slightly, "we have to take Declan to the hospital. He's lost too much blood. If we manage to stop the bleeding, it's still going to get infected. The wound is too deep and it's got dirt and glass in it."

I sigh, we don't have much time. Whether we risk getting arrested and getting Declan help or going back to the gifts and risk Declan dying, we have to choose now before it's too late.

"Look, which d'ya prefer, getting arrested or Declan dying?" Amber waves her free arm which isn't supporting Declan, in front of my face.

When she spells it out, I know that we both know what I'm going to say. I bend down and grab a handful of dirt and rub it on my face. "Put some of this stuff on your face, we have to at least hope that they won't notice us or we could pay them something to keep their mouths shut."

Amber nods and rubs some dirt on hers and Declans faces. When she's done we wait by the busy road by the highway, waiting to wave over the nearest taxi. I'm relieved to see that the cop car has driven off out of sight after its little announcement of us setting a fire in Paris's Police Headquarters.

I sigh in relief when we see a taxi and wave it over. The taxi driver rolls down his window and raises an eyebrow at us. "The hospital please, sir." Amber says politely.

If the taxi driver finds it strange that our face are almost black with the amount of dirt that we rubbed on or why Declan is being dragged by us he doesn't let on. Thankfully he doesn't seem to of heard the announcement that the cops were announcing only moments ago.

I slide into the back first, pulling Declan and Amber with me. We sit Declan up so he looks normal, except for his head which keeps on dropping down.

During the car ride which seems to last forever, I tear of a chunk of materiel from my jacket and hold it on Declans wound which hasn't slowed down bleeding. My flimsy bandage soon becomes soaked in blood. Once again I'm reminded by the seriousness of the situation. Declan is in a critical condition, if we don't get to the hospital soon, the chances of him dying are high.

The cab finally pulls up in front of a hospital. It looks empty except for a couple of cars scattered around the place. I'm not surprised though, at this time of night at least.

The taxi driver turns in his seat and opens his mouth to say something. Amber doesn't let him say anything, instead she grabs a handful of cash and pulls Declan and I out of the cab with her.

Declan's still unconscious so it's hard to get him up the front steps of the hospital. Dragging him by his arms, but avoiding his injured forearm, Amber and I somehow make it into the hospitals reception area.

An elderly lady sits at the reception desk. Her hair is white, a clump of it has been dyed into an unnatural purple. Tiny circular glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose. Her wrinkly face slowly turn from her magazine, to us. Her dull grey eyes stares at each of us intently, finally resting on Declan who hasn't been held up very well from Amber and I.

A couple of other elderly people sit in wheel chairs. They look like they've come in for there annual check up at the doctors. I frown in confusion as I analyse each pale, wrinkly face that's staring at us. It must be two in the morning, at least. Why is there a bunch of oldies sitting in the reception of a hospital, sitting down, reading some magazines, at two in the morning???

We all stay still though. Not a single person moves, we all just stare at each other. The only sound I can hear is the sharp clunk of the clock on the wall, as every second passes. I can't help but wonder what's going on inside their heads, they're staring at us so have they heard from the police? Do we look that bad?