“Okay, plan A,” said Will. He took a deep breath and watched as Meg lifted her head expectantly. He didn’t know what he was going to say next, but the hope in Meg’s eyes made him plunge on.
“Plan A is we go in and get the doll,” Will said. “One of us sneaks into the room, grabs the doll, and the manor ghost comes with it. She’s used to following the doll, so she leaves Ariel.”
“Oh,” said Meg. She wiped her eyes again but stopped crying. “Then we’ve got the ghost. What do we do with her?”
“Then we run. We run the doll back to the Griffinage, and, er . . .” His voice trailed off.
Meg looked at her brother. “We go back to the well.”
“Yes!” said Will, just realizing it himself. He’d been hugely relieved to get away from the well, so it didn’t occur to him at first. It had been so easy in the cop car, cruising away from all their troubles. Now they’d have to return, on purpose.
Enacting plan A set them back five minutes. Meg slipped into the room with no problem. She was relieved to see Ariel looking somewhat better. Maybe the oxygen was working. At least there were fewer medical people in the room, which was helpful, and although the computer monitors were still blinking wildly, they weren’t buzzing alarms. Ariel tossed on the bed, her cheeks rosy, and murmured, “Noodles likes marshmallow toast.”
The big-bosomed nurse was busy on the far side by the window. She looked up and glared at Meg, but didn’t say anything since two doctors were talking together in urgent tones. Meg smiled and tried to look her most innocent. She inched her way along the wall. Another nurse and the two doctors stood clumped together by the bed.
Meg darted forward and gave the doll’s legs a tremendous tug.
To her surprise, nothing happened. Ariel held the doll with only one arm, but it barely moved when Meg pulled. It was as if an invisible lock had clamped down, binding the doll to Ariel.
It was horrible, too, because Meg could no longer see the ghost clearly. She thought she could see a fuzzy outline, but when she looked again there was nothing but empty space. Why couldn’t she see her anymore? Was this what happened when you were eleven—almost twelve? Like radio on a bad reception. Intermittent. In and out. It just made everything harder, and scarier. She’s there all right, Meg told herself, shuddering. She’s there just as much as ever.
Meg tried again, bracing her legs this time against the hospital bed and yanking with all her might. Something did happen then. One of the doctors noticed her and spun around, knocking into the nurse with the dark bun, who crashed into the IV stand. Meg fell to the floor as the IV stand toppled on her. The second nurse leapt to right it. The doll stayed firmly clenched in Ariel’s arms.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the doctor. “I told you to stay out!”
“I just need the doll,” Meg pleaded from the floor.
“Out!” ordered the doctor.
“But . . .”
“OUT!”
The smaller nurse waved the others away and knelt down by Meg.
“That doll won’t budge, sweetie,” she said as she put her arm around Meg and helped her to her feet. “I tried when they brought your sister in. Best to let her keep it now.” Then she marched Meg out the door.
Will didn’t say anything when Meg appeared empty-handed in the hallway. It was obvious plan A had failed.
“The ghost has latched onto the doll somehow,” said Meg, beginning to cry again. “It’s stuck on Ariel. I can’t get it loose.”
“On to plan B,” said Will.
“What’s plan B?” asked Meg, wiping her nose.
“If we can’t pry the doll off, we’ll have to take Ariel, too.”
Will had been thinking about that while Meg was in the room. When the crash came, he figured they would need more desperate measures.
“Are you crazy?” said Meg. “They’ll never let us check her out! Her pulse was going nuts; there’s still lots of doctors in there. They won’t even let us go in, especially now. How are they going to agree to let her go home? They’ll probably keep her for days doing stupid, useless tests. No one will ever believe us about the ghost, and she’ll keep getting weaker. . . .” She paused. “That is, if she . . . Oh, Will!”
They both looked at each other, thinking the same thoughts. The fact was, Ariel didn’t have days. She might have an hour or so at most, if the oxygen and dopamine and everything else kept her alive past the next few minutes.
“We won’t ask, of course,” said Will. “Just do an emergency checkout. But we’ll need help and a big distraction.”
“Uncle Ben!” said Meg. “He’s big. In a place that won’t let you cough or sneeze, he’ll be a distraction all right.”
Will fingered something in his pocket, and a plan began to form in his mind. Half a plan, but at least a way to get Ariel out of the hospital.
“Right,” he said. “And we better get Shep’s help too.”
“Shep! But he’s been missing all day. He’s . . .”
“He’s in the ward down the hall.”
The door to Ariel’s room opened, and a nurse stepped out. She walked casually, humming to herself.
“She wouldn’t do that unless Ariel’s stable again,” whispered Meg. “That dopamine stuff must be working.”
“Maybe,” said Will.
“Look! It must be,” said Meg, pointing, as the door opened again and a doctor walked out. “That’s two gone. There’s hardly anybody left in her room. Now’s our chance.”
Will nodded. The next instant, Meg and Will split up, one disappearing to the patient beds in Cadbury Ward, the other downstairs to the garden.
A terrific ruckus erupted on the patient wing of the hospital’s second floor. Something brown, furry, and definitely oversized streaked down the hall, skidded on the linoleum, and slammed into a potted fig plant.
“A bear!” cried a nurse who was walking by. “A bear in the hospital! Help!”
“What?” called the matron, poking her head out of a patient’s room.
“A bear! We’re being attacked by bears!” screamed the nurse again. “Live ones! Big, hairy ones! Help!”
Feet came running from all directions. The nurse kept screaming, “Bear!” while the “bear” growled in all the confusion and barreled toward the nurse, who jumped behind a magazine rack.
No one could blame her for mistaking Uncle Ben for a bear. Newfoundlands aren’t an everyday occurrence, especially high-speed ones. This particular nurse was fond of picking up the Weekly Rag at the grocery checkout. Just last week, they’d run a story about exotic pets. More and more British home owners were keeping wild animals as pets, animals like crocodiles, lions, and tigers. Imagine! Dangerous ones like that! A tiger named Teddy had even escaped from a house in Devon. If tigers could roam about Devon, bears might run wild in Somerset.
Uncle Ben swerved and bounded in the other direction. The excitable nurse yelped. She tipped over the rack, and magazines scattered and slid across the floor.
“What’s all this?” cried a doctor, running up. The next moment he slipped on a glossy magazine called Racing Ahead, which slithered over Wellness Today, and he landed flat on his back.
“Oof!” he yelled. “What was that?”
“Bears!” yelled the nurse again, then added for good measure: “Tigers!” She scrambled to a new hiding spot behind a row of artificial potted plants.
The “bear,” or perhaps, “Uncle Bear,” was snuffing its great nose. All of a sudden, he leapt toward a gurney being wheeled down the hall by a porter, landing on top of the mattress. The porter yelled and let go, sending the hospital bed spinning and skidding down the hall straight toward the first nurse and her potted plants. She screamed and ducked.
The gurney hit the wall and bounced away again. The bear was still balanced on the gurney, dropping globs of slobber on the neat, clean sheets.
“Hide your sandwiches!” the nurse cried. “Don’t let it smell food. It might eat you!”
“Sandwiches?�
� came a doctor’s voice. “Bears don’t eat sandwiches. Whatever are you talking about, Fiona?”
“Hide your honey, then!” she cried and ducked again.
The speeding gurney spun in circles, knocking into chairs, fallen doctors, and spilled magazines, then hurtled to the opposite wall. It hit with a crash, narrowly missing the fish tank, then ricocheted toward the patient rooms.
At that moment, Dr. Fenster emerged from Room 3. She opened the door, took two steps, and—slam!—collided with the bear and gurney.
Uncle Ben had had enough. He jumped off the rolling bed, right onto Dr. Fenster, who tried to sit up, but collapsed again under 150 pounds of shaggy fur.
“The bear!” cried the porter, pointing at the mass of brown fur.
“The doctor!” cried a nurse.
“Wild animals!” called Fiona. “Exotic pets! Escaped from Devon!”
“Help! Police! Call the fire brigade!” yelled Dr. Fenster, her voice muffled underneath so much fur. Fiona, the first nurse, had sharp ears and ran to obey.
“Evacuate!” she cried, and pulled the fire alarm.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Across the Pastures
During this chaos, a new nurse approached Room 3 pushing an empty wheelchair. Will watched from behind a fake jade plant. This nurse was a big fellow, and he seemed to have steel-soled shoes, for every other step produced a huge crash.
Ariel’s door opened. There was only one nurse in there now. Will heaved a sigh of relief. The rest were, well, distracted. He grinned and tossed a few more Bowzer’s Bones to the far side of the hall. That would shift the action away from Ariel for a while.
“I’ll take over,” said the new nurse, marching into Room 3 with authority. He pushed the empty wheelchair into a corner and picked up the medical charts.
The big-bosomed nurse looked up. “But I just got here,” she protested.
“Dr. Gurney’s orders. You’re needed outside immediately. Quick! Emergency! Don’t you hear all that noise?”
The door swung open again, ejecting the big-bosomed nurse. She stood out in the hall for a moment, then muttered, “Wait, we don’t have a Dr. Gurney,” and put her hand on the door knob to reenter Ariel’s room. Just then, Uncle Ben came charging toward her, running away from the hospital bed himself as the wild gurney spun out of control. The nurse shrieked and leapt to the side. The empty gurney careened by and crashed into the wall beside Will. No one noticed Meg in all the confusion. She quietly slipped into Room 3. Will sent the gurney spinning back toward the pile of doctors. He would have loved to stay and watch the action, but instead Will dashed after Meg, spreading his last bits of Bowzer’s Bones as he ran.
“We’re in!” cried Will.
The heavy-footed nurse groaned and collapsed into the wheelchair as Will closed the door.
“About near killed my foot,” Shep said. He threw off the nurse’s uniform. “Quick, get her on.”
Will and Meg heaved Ariel off the hospital bed, pulled away her oxygen mask, and placed her in the wheelchair on Shep’s lap. The manor ghost remained tightly attached to Ariel. At least the ghost was following the plan so far.
“She’s on,” said Will, interpreting for the others, who couldn’t see the ghost. Shep nodded. Will half wished he couldn’t see the ghost either. The sight of green velvet still turned his stomach.
They reached for the door, but the IV tube stretched like a leash. Meg ran back to the IV stand, which tipped, threatening to make another awful crash. She bent over Ariel’s arm, fumbling with the tubes.
“Can’t you hurry?” begged Will close to her ear. “They’re going to see us! Someone’ll be back in the room any second!”
“I know!” said Meg. The IV tube led to a small plastic port taped to Ariel’s arm. The port could stay. Meg managed to disengage the tube from the port and left it dangling. Will swallowed. Now Ariel was free to move, but she was also without oxygen and whatever other life-sustaining treatments the doctors were trying to put into her. Time was even more precious.
Shep draped a hospital blanket over Ariel’s small form on his lap. Now to get past the doctors. With any luck, they’d slip down the hospital hallway with Shep the Nurse now posing as a patient. As for the blanket blob on his stomach? Well, that was just a big blanket.
Meg and Will each took a wheelchair handle and shoved from behind.
“Ufh,” said Shep, though gritted teeth. He raised his bad foot higher, clunking the purple cast against the wheelchair. “Turn right. Take the back way, to the lifts.”
Meg and Will maneuvered the wheelchair out into the hall. They were totally exposed now, in full view of two doctors and five or so nurses. Two had their backs to them and were looking away. The others were looking at . . . Uncle Ben.
Ben the “bear” was sitting in a pile of Bowzer’s Bones, crunching and smacking his lips. Will saw dog drool sticking to his muzzle and a small puddle of slobber pooling by his paws. Good old Uncle Ben. Ben looked up. He saw them. His ears pricked up in a friendly way, then he growled, dropped a half-chewed Bone, and lunged in their direction.
Will dropped his side of the wheelchair handles, leapt toward a hospital cart full of cleaning supplies, and gave it mighty push. “Sorry, old boy,” Will muttered as the cart spun away. Much as he wanted the ghost off Ariel, Uncle Ben might really scare the manor ghost off. That could ruin their plan—their slim, but only hope—of getting the ghosts together.
The cart careened toward Uncle Ben. Two hospital staff sprang up to grab it. One tripped in his excitement. He fell on the cart, giving it a burst of speed as it screeched forward and collided with the spinning gurney.
Mops, cleaners, and trash bags tumbled out. Toilet paper rolls launched in the air. The rolls unraveled, flying like long white pennants, and covered four people who were now sprawled on the floor. Uncle Ben barked. He was fenced in by buckets, mops, and overturned furniture. From under the toilet paper, a nurse glared straight at Will and Meg and yelled.
The children gripped the wheelchair handles and ran. They bumped Shep’s leg into the wall trying to make the turn, and Shep clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a yell. Behind them came a tremendous crash and more barking. Through the noise, Will heard an elevator ding.
“Quick, inside!” said Meg.
Will lunged into the elevator with the wheelchair and Meg pushed the close doors button. Behind them came more barking and a nurse’s raised voice. “That’s no bear—it’s a Newfoundland dog! My granddad had one.”
As the elevator doors slid shut, Shep let out a suppressed groan.
“Who gave you a driver’s license?” he grumbled. “Nearly took my other leg off.”
“Now what do we do?” said Will. He glanced at Ariel’s limp form and the shimmering green velvet encasing her, then looked away again. “They’ll be downstairs in a minute. Do you have your Jeep, Shep?”
Shep shook his head. “Left it at the timber yard. Came here by ambulance, but I couldn’t drive anyway. We’ll just have to figure something out.” At that moment, the fire alarm began to wail.
Will squinched his eyes shut as the elevator doors slid open. They’d reached the ground floor. He fully expected to see the doorway framed by a phalanx of angry doctors and nurses blocking their way. He opened his eyes. Nothing. Meg already had her head stuck out and was peering around the corner. She motioned them forward. With Meg pulling from the front and Will pushing from the back, Shep, Ariel, and the manor ghost rolled out of the hospital elevator.
They were down in the lobby with five or six people on their feet talking excitedly about the fire alarm. Some stared in their direction, but the person at the reception desk was leaning into a phone, fully occupied. Muffled barks echoed from the stairwell, audible even through the alarm’s blare. No one seemed worried about a man in a wheelchair with a lumpy blanket on his tummy.
“Over here.”
Meg pointed to a door marked STAFF EXIT. It was the same door they’d seen from the memorial garden, W
ill realized. They pushed through and found themselves on a stone pathway next to a parked motorcycle and the azaleas.
Will scanned the scene. What was the quickest way to the Griffinage? Ariel needed help fast. Going back to the well was going into the thick of it, but it was the only way he could think of to save Ariel. That girl ghost was connected to the well, and they needed the girl ghost to make this plan work. The squad car was still parked by the hospital entry doors, but Officer Targent was nowhere to be seen. If they could find him, would he give them a ride?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Meg. She must have seen his look. “He’s the one who brought us here. No way would he drive us away from the hospital, especially not with two patients.”
“One runaway patient and one kidnapped patient,” added Shep. “I’m afraid she’s right.”
“Oh, hurry! Hurry and think of something,” said Meg. Ariel was groaning and tossing under the blanket. Will was glad he couldn’t see her face.
“Speed,” muttered Shep. “Speed, that’s what we need. Simple speed. That’s it!” He scrambled up from the wheelchair. “Here, hold Ariel. Never mind the blanket. We’ve got speed right here.” Shep hobbled a few steps and heaved himself up on the parked motorcycle.
“Yes!” said Will, pumping his arm in the air. He saw at once what Shep was up to. The motorcycle. It wouldn’t be stealing in a ghost emergency; obviously even Shep didn’t think so. With Shep’s help, Will hauled Ariel over to the leather seat and lifted her up, then swung up behind her. Meg stood on the path wringing her hands.
“But your leg?” said Meg. “Can you drive?”
“Drive by hand with a bike. Right leg works the brakes. Just can’t shift gears.”
The Griffins of Castle Cary Page 17