Chapter Nine
St. Anne's
They say it takes all kinds of people to make a world, and it looked like they had all sent a representative to the lobby of St. Anne's Hospital. The wizened old lady at the information desk had the brisk, unflappable air of a retired nurse. She directed a couple bearing a massive bunch of blue and pink balloons and dispatched a frantic young man to the emergency room with equal calm and turned to address me.
"Good morning, dears. How may I help you?"
"My cousin was brought in here yesterday. His name is Walter Lankenau." She punched some keys on her computer. Holmes watched a man with orange spiked hair and a dog collar pass by.
"There's no one in the hospital by that name dear." She said, adjusting the sleeves of her puce volunteer jacket. "Any other names?" I tried a couple different spellings, and the name Robin Lankenau, but no luck. I tapped idly on the counter, thinking. It was highly doubtful that the police would have put Robin in the hospital database, at least under his own name.
"Where's your cafeteria?" Holmes and I started off down the hall and around to the left, per the instructions of the lady at the desk.
"Did you expect him to be in their files?" Holmes asked.
"Not really. Worth a shot anyway. Sometimes those things slip through the cracks. Oooh, Frappachino." I bought some more caffeine and headed for a table to plot the next move.
"If he is still here, he will be in one of the wards. That officer said he was in the casualty ward." Holmes said. "Though the room will probably be guarded."
"Probably. I'm not worried about guards though. Casualty is kind of a general term; it could mean the emergency room or an actual patient floor. There's probably several miles of corridor in this hospital. It could take all day to find it." I glanced around the cafeteria. Aside from visitors, there were doctors, nurses, lab techs, random people in scrubs, volunteers, maintenance people, housekeeping people and one patient in the corner by the window.
"Any of these people could probably tell us how to get there." Holmes commented.
"The trick is to ask the right question. Excuse me?" I flagged down a passing teenager who was dressed in the same god-awful shade of red as the lady at the front desk.
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid we've gotten turned around. Can you tell us how to get back to the trauma unit?"
"You mean the ACU?"
"Uh, yeah that." It sound like as good a place to start as any. The volunteer gave directions that involved a great deal of pointing and we set off into the unknown.
"Try not to look like such a tourist." I teased Holmes. He was staring at a tech hauling a portable X-Ray machine down the hall.
"It is a shame that Watson was not able to join us." Holmes commented absently, ignoring me. "He would be in heaven. I have no doubt that just one of these machines could do a great deal for medical science."
"Yeah, well, no touchie. Remember what I said about how we know nothing blows up in this version of history?"
"Nevertheless…Aurora, what is that?" He gestured at what looked to be a computer screen mounted on a cart. Below the monitor were several very technical looking knobs and buttons.
"It's an ultrasound machine. It uses ultrasonic waves for diagnostic or therapeutic purposes, specifically to image an internal body structure, monitor a developing fetus, or generate localized deep heat to the tissues."
"What are you quoting?"
"The textbook from my EMT, er, emergency medical technician class. Celeste and I took it together when she was gearing up for med school. She dared me that I would wuss out halfway through. I won hundred bucks on that." Ah, the good old days. I was pulled out of my reminisces by Holmes.
"The Acute Care Unit. Her directions were accurate."
"Try not to sound too shocked."
Near the end of the hall sat a uniformed police officer in a folding chair, reading the newspaper and looking bored. On the wall across from the nurses' desk hung a large white board, marked with patient names and room numbers. The room at the end of the hallway was assigned to "Doe, John". I love it when things are this simple.
I strode down the hall authoritatively, Holmes in tow. About halfway down, the bobby noticed us. A little after that he folded his paper and stood. After it became apparent that we were headed his direction he moved in front of the door and folded his arms across his chest.
"I'm sorry mum- Ma'am. This room is off-limits to visitors." He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, a trainee stuck with grunt work. I summoned up my best West London dialect and countered.
"I know, I know, security reasons and all that. May I just speak with him for five minutes? Walter is my brother and our mother is so worried over him, but of course she can't really get around and coming to a hospital she'd be sure to pick up something obscure." The officer's eyes were beginning to cross. "It would just be for a few minutes, to let him know that we're here for him and so forth."
The officer blinked for a moment, weighing the likelihood that this hippie woman and the amiable, if silent, male she was towing in her wake could actually pose a threat to his charge.
"Very well, but only for a few moments." Officer Bradshaw (as his nametag proclaimed him to be) opened the door and let us in, then placed himself at a discreet distance, well within earshot.
"Hey brother, how's it going?" I pitched my voice up a half octave, grinning like a manic.
"I'm on Vicodin, what's you excuse?" Robin said, more than a little confused. I gave him a quick medic's assessment. A black eye, concussion, maybe a few bruised ribs. He certainly wasn't anywhere near death's door, contrary to Officer Brows informed opinion.
"Oh don't be difficult. We came all the way out here to make sure you're all right. Mum nearly gave herself a heart attack when she heard the news." Comprehension dawned on Robin's face.
"Well you didn't have to tell her."
"I didn't tell her, the police did. Called the house, all formal like." If I laid the annoying sister act on any thicker I could be on stage. "What have you done this time?"
Robin opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a "Harrumph!" from the young officer at the door.
"That friend of yours has been leaving messages at the house, every hour, on the hour. What's his name, Francis?" Fortunately, Robin caught this. Skyler, according to the ancient and honoured Harland family tradition, generally went by his middle name. So instead of Francis, Agnes and Nancy, you had Skyler, Celeste and Aurora. Anyone noticing a pattern?
"Er, yeah that. Um, it's about an old gambling debt." I could see the wheels of thought turning in Robin's head. "I don't think I'll be out of here for some time. Could you give it to him for me?"
"I remember you telling me about that." I said trying not to sound too pissed off. "I thought you said you lost the money."
"Forgive me, sister. I lied."
"You always were a greedy bastard."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.
St. Anne's
They say it takes all kinds of people to make a world, and it looked like they had all sent a representative to the lobby of St. Anne's Hospital. The wizened old lady at the information desk had the brisk, unflappable air of a retired nurse. She directed a couple bearing a massive bunch of blue and pink balloons and dispatched a frantic young man to the emergency room with equal calm and turned to address me.
"Good morning, dears. How may I help you?"
"My cousin was brought in here yesterday. His name is Walter Lankenau." She punched some keys on her computer. Holmes watched a man with orange spiked hair and a dog collar pass by.
"There's no one in the hospital by that name dear." She said, adjusting the sleeves of her puce volunteer jacket. "Any other names?" I tried a couple different spellings, and the name Robin Lankenau, but no luck. I tapped idly on the counter, thinking. It was highly doubtful that the police would have put Robin in the hospital database, at least under his own name.
"Where's your cafeteria?" Holmes and I started off down the hall and around to the left, per the instructions of the lady at the desk.
"Did you expect him to be in their files?" Holmes asked.
"Not really. Worth a shot anyway. Sometimes those things slip through the cracks. Oooh, Frappachino." I bought some more caffeine and headed for a table to plot the next move.
"If he is still here, he will be in one of the wards. That officer said he was in the casualty ward." Holmes said. "Though the room will probably be guarded."
"Probably. I'm not worried about guards though. Casualty is kind of a general term; it could mean the emergency room or an actual patient floor. There's probably several miles of corridor in this hospital. It could take all day to find it." I glanced around the cafeteria. Aside from visitors, there were doctors, nurses, lab techs, random people in scrubs, volunteers, maintenance people, housekeeping people and one patient in the corner by the window.
"Any of these people could probably tell us how to get there." Holmes commented.
"The trick is to ask the right question. Excuse me?" I flagged down a passing teenager who was dressed in the same god-awful shade of red as the lady at the front desk.
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid we've gotten turned around. Can you tell us how to get back to the trauma unit?"
"You mean the ACU?"
"Uh, yeah that." It sound like as good a place to start as any. The volunteer gave directions that involved a great deal of pointing and we set off into the unknown.
"Try not to look like such a tourist." I teased Holmes. He was staring at a tech hauling a portable X-Ray machine down the hall.
"It is a shame that Watson was not able to join us." Holmes commented absently, ignoring me. "He would be in heaven. I have no doubt that just one of these machines could do a great deal for medical science."
"Yeah, well, no touchie. Remember what I said about how we know nothing blows up in this version of history?"
"Nevertheless…Aurora, what is that?" He gestured at what looked to be a computer screen mounted on a cart. Below the monitor were several very technical looking knobs and buttons.
"It's an ultrasound machine. It uses ultrasonic waves for diagnostic or therapeutic purposes, specifically to image an internal body structure, monitor a developing fetus, or generate localized deep heat to the tissues."
"What are you quoting?"
"The textbook from my EMT, er, emergency medical technician class. Celeste and I took it together when she was gearing up for med school. She dared me that I would wuss out halfway through. I won hundred bucks on that." Ah, the good old days. I was pulled out of my reminisces by Holmes.
"The Acute Care Unit. Her directions were accurate."
"Try not to sound too shocked."
Near the end of the hall sat a uniformed police officer in a folding chair, reading the newspaper and looking bored. On the wall across from the nurses' desk hung a large white board, marked with patient names and room numbers. The room at the end of the hallway was assigned to "Doe, John". I love it when things are this simple.
I strode down the hall authoritatively, Holmes in tow. About halfway down, the bobby noticed us. A little after that he folded his paper and stood. After it became apparent that we were headed his direction he moved in front of the door and folded his arms across his chest.
"I'm sorry mum- Ma'am. This room is off-limits to visitors." He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, a trainee stuck with grunt work. I summoned up my best West London dialect and countered.
"I know, I know, security reasons and all that. May I just speak with him for five minutes? Walter is my brother and our mother is so worried over him, but of course she can't really get around and coming to a hospital she'd be sure to pick up something obscure." The officer's eyes were beginning to cross. "It would just be for a few minutes, to let him know that we're here for him and so forth."
The officer blinked for a moment, weighing the likelihood that this hippie woman and the amiable, if silent, male she was towing in her wake could actually pose a threat to his charge.
"Very well, but only for a few moments." Officer Bradshaw (as his nametag proclaimed him to be) opened the door and let us in, then placed himself at a discreet distance, well within earshot.
"Hey brother, how's it going?" I pitched my voice up a half octave, grinning like a manic.
"I'm on Vicodin, what's you excuse?" Robin said, more than a little confused. I gave him a quick medic's assessment. A black eye, concussion, maybe a few bruised ribs. He certainly wasn't anywhere near death's door, contrary to Officer Brows informed opinion.
"Oh don't be difficult. We came all the way out here to make sure you're all right. Mum nearly gave herself a heart attack when she heard the news." Comprehension dawned on Robin's face.
"Well you didn't have to tell her."
"I didn't tell her, the police did. Called the house, all formal like." If I laid the annoying sister act on any thicker I could be on stage. "What have you done this time?"
Robin opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a "Harrumph!" from the young officer at the door.
"That friend of yours has been leaving messages at the house, every hour, on the hour. What's his name, Francis?" Fortunately, Robin caught this. Skyler, according to the ancient and honoured Harland family tradition, generally went by his middle name. So instead of Francis, Agnes and Nancy, you had Skyler, Celeste and Aurora. Anyone noticing a pattern?
"Er, yeah that. Um, it's about an old gambling debt." I could see the wheels of thought turning in Robin's head. "I don't think I'll be out of here for some time. Could you give it to him for me?"
"I remember you telling me about that." I said trying not to sound too pissed off. "I thought you said you lost the money."
"Forgive me, sister. I lied."
"You always were a greedy bastard."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.