The Institution
Page 35
‘Mate, excuse me, you’re going to have to move.’ A paramedic places a firm hand on O’Connell’s weakened shoulder. He removes his gaze from Jennifer’s face and stares up at the man speaking to him. He nods shortly, shifting his hands along with his balled jacket, now matted with warm, sticky blood. He drags his weakened frame along the grey carpet, leaving a trail of blood behind him and rests metres away from Jennifer’s limp body. He watches as the paramedics begin working on her.
‘No pulse, get the defibrillator ready, I’ll start CPR.’ O’Connell watches the paramedic who spoke to him pound on Jennifer’s chest and force air into her lungs, while another begins inserting a cannula to her wrist. Her body doesn’t respond. O’Connell turns his head away from the scene, focussing on the space behind the paramedics. His eyes squint, scanning down the vacant corridor before a spark of fury lights them up. Quickly and carefully, O’Connell stands, applying as little pressure as possible to his injured food. He hops around clumsily until he is forced to balance himself against the wall. Once he is straight he directs his attention to a paramedic preparing a stretcher.
‘Where’s the man that let you in?’ He belts. The paramedic looks up at him, paying little attention.
‘Mate, why don’t you sit back down, I can see your foot’s been injured, standing won’t do it any good.’ He says focussing on his job.
‘WHERE IS THE MAN THAT LET YOU IN?’ O’Connell yells, his voice cracking.
‘Geese, mate ... calm down. I ... I don’t know. He was with us when we got out of the elevator and he unlocked that security door for us.’ The paramedic pointed towards the glass door behind them. ‘He must’ve turned around after letting us in.’ O’Connell stares at the other paramedics, they are busy performing CPR and take no notice of him.
‘SHIT!’ O’Connell yells and heads for the elevator. He lets out a frustrated cry of pain as he applies pressure to his injured foot, hobbles down the corridor and through the security door, propped open by a medical bag. Panting, he throws himself into the elevator, jamming his fist into the button for the first floor.
When the elevator arrives he launches out of it, half galloping, half limping. He turns the corner and peers straight down the corridor. The only obstacles he can make out are the faint outlines of the guards lying unconscious at the base of the security doors. He forces himself to apply more pressure onto his foot and brakes out into a hobbled jog, crying out in pain with every second step. His heart is pumping and he draws in a deep, exhausted breath when he reaches the employee entrance. He stops, lifts his injured foot off the ground, yanks out the overly creased sheet of codes and quickly punches in the code. Once the door is unlocked he flies around the locker room and pushes his way into the small foyer leading outside. He takes a brief second to rest his foot, leaning against the pale wall of the small space, then ploughs through the large steel door, entering the freezing midnight air.
He turns to the left, limping quickly down the cement path, heading towards the car park. Once around the side of the building he looks up and catches a glimpse of light, moving quickly down the darkened driveway. He picks up pace, cursing. When he reaches the car park, he throws himself into the black rental van, turns on the engine and reverses, screeching the tires along the bitumen. He slams his foot on the break just in time to avoid hitting a detailed black lamp post, throws the gearbox into drive and floors the accelerator, exiting the car park and flying past the main entrance to the hospital. The van races down the dark winding driveway, pursuing the car up ahead. When he reaches the end of the drive he looks both ways onto the long, flat road awaiting him. In the distance towards the right he can make out the red glow of tail lights. Without hesitation he turns the wheel and accelerates. The van’s engine whines as he forces it up another gear, trying to close the gap between him and Verdad.
The van speeds down the long stretch of road, the space between the cars shortening with every kilometre. When there is less than a fifty metre gap, O’Connell turns his concentration towards manoeuvring the van in an attempt to block the navy blue sedan Verdad is driving. He sits perched on the tip of the driver’s seat, his blood stained hands gripping the steering wheel forcefully. He keeps his eyes focussed directly in front of him as he creeps closer and closer. Within seconds he is close enough so the fierce light erupting from the van’s headlights shines through the back windshield of Verdad’s car, igniting a silhouetted outline of his head. O’Connell braces himself and attempts to overtake the sedan. Then, the bright red shine of brake lights appear on the car in front of him accompanied with a magnified screeching of tyres and the stench of burning rubber, Verdad had slammed his foot on the break. Instinctively, O’Connell turns the wheel of his van, hard, spinning it wildly out of control along the flat, empty road, avoiding a collision. The momentum of the acceleration and the sudden change in direction causes the van to topple onto its side. Sparks ignite along the ground as the metal frame of the van grinds its way along the bitumen before slamming into a large tree. On impact, the roof of the van crumples, pinning O’Connell into his seat and the windshield shatters, splintering his face with glass. The fall sends him into unconsciousness. Once the van has come to a standstill, Verdad glances into his rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of the crumpled black wreckage. Smiling, he returns his car into drive and flies off down the vacant road.
#28 Goodbye Again