Cogent

TWENTY-TWO

The guards had stopped a few feet away from Noah, talking to the woman with the big purse. They didn't appear to see him, more concerned with the suspiciously abandoned backpack sitting on the floor at her feet.

"It isn't mine." The woman said.

"Whose is it?" one guard asked.

She shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Did you see who left it?"

"I was reading my ebook, officer." The woman snapped. "I'm down here trying to distract myself from the fact that my husband is upstairs at this very moment having open-heart surgery because of the heart attack he suffered two weeks ago. Now, why in the world would I care about somebody's lost bag?"

The guards weren't thrown off. "Did you notice any suspicious persons nearby, or any odd noises coming from the bag?"

Noah held his breath. He looked suspicious. Had the woman seen him?

"Like I said before, I haven't noticed anything or anyone. I've just been sitting here, minding my own business, which is apparently a crime—"

A quick exhale escaped him. He was safe, for now.

"It's not a crime, ma'am. We are just trying to maintain the safety of this hospital."

"Hey, Nobody."

Noah jumped, biting his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut tight for a second, fighting the urge to make any sound. The sharp movement sent waves of pain surging through his body, but he kept his teeth tightly clenched and opened his eyes. Tess was standing in front of him with a wheelchair between them.

"Hurry," she whispered, pointing at the seat of the chair.

Despite his throbbing bones, Noah felt an immense flood of relief at the sight of her and the wheelchair. She hadn't left him after all.

Slowly, he leaned over and grabbed the arm of the chair, holding himself upright as he turned and sat down. The pain in his leg didn't subside, but the aching in the rest of his body seemed to ease up.

Tess gripped the handles of the wheelchair tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Here we go," she said softly, pushing him swiftly toward the door. "Nearly there."

"Don't jinx it," he told her, anxiety pricking his skin coldly. They drew closer to the doors, so close that when people entered the hospital, Noah could smell the rich night air. It was tinged with car exhaust and asphalt, but there was also the smell of leaves and rain. The stench of burnt pavement had gone with the summer. Fall had a much nicer odor.

"And they're outta here," Tess exclaimed as they passed through the doors to the drop-off area. She was laughing, a breathy, relieved sort of sound. "We made it."

Noah didn't respond. They weren't safe yet. The parking lot sat across the street and Tess forged ahead, refusing to stop as a cab tried to pull forward. They put on their brakes. Noah flinched.

Maybe she'll kill you.

"Sorry," Tess said, unable to hide her laugh. She seemed as relieved as he was to be out of the hospital. "I swear I want to get you out of here in one piece."

"Maybe don't walk in front of cars then."

"Good advice," she chuckled, wheeling him uphill toward the section labeled P3. They passed a lot of SUVs and compact cars, only to stop in front of a black Jeep with a long scratch across the back hatch. "Here we are," she said, reaching into her pocket to pull out her keys. She used the fob to unlock the doors, sending a loud mechanical chirp echoing around the parking lot.