The IV pole clattered along the floor as Rose led him down the corridor. A turn left, a turn right, then once more to the left. She had to tug on his sleeves several times when he slowed down too much - he'd snap back at her, as the tactile clues were very important. As much as he trusted her, he had never forgotten the value of being independent.
A few metres down the third corridor the floor changed; the polished tiles gave way to stone slabs incised smoothly together. The sound of voices also grew louder - a male doctor, from the sound of it, arguing with another woman (a relative?). Rose stopped some distance away from them, and he did so as well.
"My most sincere apologies, ma'am, but your grandson is undergoing emergency treatment, and as I've said, my colleagues are occupied and for your own safety we cannot let you in -"
"But my grandson is in there! I need to see him right now! Oh dear gods, he could be dying in there..." The woman seemed anguished, almost hysterical, but her voice was oddly distorted, as if heard from a distance. "I need to see him today... I might not live to see him tomorrow - "
There was a confusing clatter of metal on stone as the old woman gasped for air. Rose stepped backwards and bumped into him - good thing he was able to fumble and hold onto the IV pole for support, otherwise he would have toppled. He cursed briefly, though nobody took notice.
"Ma'am! You need some rest." The doctor's tone was firm, unyielding, though there was a note of exasperation in his voice. Another clash of metal on metal - was the old lady on crutches? - as the doctor soothed the lady's protests. Footsteps sounded, one shuffling, the other patiently guiding, and their voices began to drift ever so slowly down the hall.
"Who the hell were they." He could divine their identities from the conversation that transpired, but he decided to ask for confirmation. "Where're we, for that matter."
"As per your request, I have guided you outside the ward in which John is currently staying in. Though, from what the conversation between the doctor and John's grandmother, he is currently still undergoing treatment for acute airway constriction." There was a pause, and the soft clink of a tap on glass. "I myself find the situation rather confusing. It has been several hours since the attack. Surely, the affliction should not be so harsh?"
Her voice trailed away at the last sentence, and so did her conviction.
At that moment the door opened smoothly, its sounds suggesting a sliding door. Someone stepped out of the ward, and sighed deeply. "Your query is appropriate, young lady." A woman, this time, though her voice was muffled - probably wearing some sort of mask. Another sigh. "Oh, don't start asking me questions. I'm just an assistant, so I don't know too much about what happened to your young friend inside. Just coming out for some fresh air - oh, don't worry, I've been through the disinfectant and all - "
" - what exactly is going on inside?" Rose said abruptly, her sentence accompanied by two more taps on glass. Strange sounds were now coming out of the ward, a great deal of shuffling, rapid speaking, a few metallic clanks here and there, some beeping, voices again coming closer -
- the door burst open and a cacophony of voices erupted out, some young, some old, a few relieved ones, sighs, grumblings -
- and with it, a gruesome smell. It was strangely sweet, like tea with too much milk added, but in a sickening way that made bile rise in his stomach. Accompanying it was a strange stench like that of burning plastic, though not quite, as not only was it acrid, there was also a distinctly non-chemical component as well. And as if the combined smell wasn't revolting enough, there was also a component of danger - the all-too-familiar metallic tang of blood. He could almost taste it in the air.
The smell invaded his awareness, blotting out all other sensations like a noxious cloud. The speech and sounds of the others became a distant blur, all his attention forcibly focused onto the foul intrusion. And it wasn't just a smell. It was powerful enough to make him hallucinate, hearing a slimy slithering that sent shivers down his spine.
There was also a distinct feeling of someone holding his right arm - he swatted the hand away instinctively. It returned after a moment, however, along with someone repeatedly speaking his name -
" - that's it, look at me! Don't space out like that!" Rose's voice was sharp enough to momentarily break the hallucination and bring him back to reality. "You really need some rest. My bad for bringing you out - "
More voices, shouts, movement of some equipment, and the vague awareness of being helped onto some sort of surface - a wheelchair, from the resultant feeling of movement. Reality itself was slipping away, presumably dissolving into what others would call fog.
And then, silence. Absolute silence. No more voices. No more sounds. No more sensations. Nothing.
For the first time in his life, he was completely unaware.
And being unaware was much more unnerving to someone who already had to rely on a secondary sense to perceive the world.
For him, there had always been darkness. Now, there was also silence, pressing down oppressively like a heavy blanket, blanketing out all emotions but the growing bud of fear lodged in his chest.
