They turned into the alleyway, looking around. "I don't see him, Rog," Collins said, scratching his head. "He wasn't walking around, and he wasn't at any of the normal places."
"Do you think he's OK?"
"I don't know, Roger, I sure hope so… Let's check around here a little bit more."
He laid there, utterly motionless. His eyes were closed because it hurt too much to open them. He wasn't cold anymore; in fact, he had started to go numb, which was a miracle. He vaguely wondered if he had any large wounds; maybe, if he was lucky, he could bleed to death, which was faster than freezing. A light dusting of snow had begun to cover him, and he urged it to hurry up and kill him already.
Suddenly, there were voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed familiar. They passed directly under him. "I don't know, Roger, I sure hope so…" Roger. Collins. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The voices faded away, and his heart sank, his last hope gone.
"We've searched everywhere, Collins, where could he be?"
"Look, Roger, I'm as clueless as you, alright? Maybe he's back at the loft, and we didn't hear the payphone or something… I'm going to go call Joanne, okay?"
"Alright," Roger said, sighing. He looked up. "Damn, it's really coming down." Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he turned around to see the end of a scarf, fluttering off the edge of the fire escape. Roger froze. Mark. He sprinted towards the rickety ladder and scrambled up. Oh God oh God Mark…
The fire escape started to shake, and Mark's eyes shot open. A blurry figure stood at the edge of the platform. Mark panicked. "No, no, please, don't, not again, leave me alone, no, don't…"
"Oh my God, Mark!"
Roger reached the top of the fire escape, and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips. Mark laid there, his leg twisted at an odd angle. He was pale, paler than usual, his skin nearly the same color as the snow around him, and his collar was pushed down to reveal bite marks and dark purple splotches mottling his skin. The worst part, however, was when he opened his eyes. They were empty, completely blank. "No, no, please, don't, not again, leave me alone, no, don't…" he whimpered.
"Oh my God, Mark!" Roger freaked out. What had happened to him?
Mark's eyes focused momentarily on him, and he visibly relaxed. "Roger…" He closed his eyes.
"Mark, hang in there, man, just hang on!" He whipped around and leaned over the railing. "Collins!" he shouted desperately. "Collins, it's Mark! Help!" Collins came running around the corner.
"What?"
"I found Mark, he's in really bad shape, I'm not sure how we can get him down!"
"Can you pick him up?" Collins asked, anxious.
"I think so…" Roger said uncertainly. "I'll try!" He gingerly wrapped an arm around Mark's waist and lifted, moving slowly not because he was heavy, but because he didn't want to jostle his injuries any more. "Got him!"
"Alright, can you climb down the ladder halfway? I can take him from there!"
Roger wrapped one hand tightly around the railing of the ladder, and gently started lowering himself. Mark's legs dangled, and Roger slid his hand quickly down the side of the ladder, then lowered himself a bit more. He inched down a few more feet, until Collins was directly beneath. "Ready?"
"Lower him down!" Roger dropped Mark into Collins' arms, then made a dash for the pay phone, while Collins took his coat off and wrapped it around Mark. Roger punched in the numbers frantically.
"Hello?"
"Joanne, it's Roger. We found him, he's really hurt, we don't think we'll be able to get him home. Can you come pick us up? We need to get to the hospital, fast."
"Oh my God, I'll be there as soon as I can!"
Roger rushed back to Collins, who was looking at Mark worriedly. "How is he?" Collins looked mildly uncomfortable. "What?" Collins lifted up his bloody right hand, and Roger reeled back.
"This is what leaked onto my hand when I was holding him, Roger," he said, looking like he was about to cry. "His pants… they're completely soaked with blood…"
"Oh my God," Roger whispered. "Oh my God. Mark…"
Joanne pulled up to the curb, and Collins lifted him into the backseat. Roger slid into the front. "What happened to him?"
"We don't know, Joanne, just… drive, please just drive." She would've pushed it, but they both looked more distraught than she had ever seen them, so she kept her mouth shut as she gunned the motor and sped off towards the hospital.