4. POP
Morris turned left out of his door, the other direction was where Marvin had gone and he didn’t want to end up in the kitchen, besides, this was the way the footsteps had run earlier.
Every door he passed was unlabelled and painted grey, one after the other, bland and boring. He tried the handle on one but it wouldn’t budge and he noticed that none of them had any light shining from them.
It was so quiet that Morris could hear his own heart beating.
In an instant he realised that his vision was back to normal, it had recovered so subtly that he had barely noticed. He looked at his reflection in a glass partition and could see that his face had returned to normal…and his tongue was pink again!
As yet there was nothing to suggest he’d been affected by gas, but he felt sure he would know when the time came.
He approached a room that had a viewing panel along the side and he could vaguely see a bed and lots of equipment standing quietly and a large round light that was on an arm which stretched from the back of the bed up, and over to face the bed again. All seemed ready for a patient.
He couldn’t read the sign but flicked a switch next to the door and the whole room exploded with bright light making Morris shield his eyes. The room he saw housed the most unusual collection of strangely shaped chrome equipment he had ever seen. There was a long, thin extending arm with what looked like an eye on the end of it, a selection of different sized kitchen scales, along the wall hung a vast array of different shaped tongs, spoons, measuring cups, watering cans and brushes, then something caught his eye.
It was the sign. ‘Trisection – Bisection – Study and Probe – Unusual Disease Assessment’. And on the ‘Name’ board…it said, ‘Hollett’.
His heart stopped and his legs went all wobbly.
Then, all of a sudden.
POP.
He ducked, not knowing where the noise had come from.
POP.
He looked around. He couldn’t see anything or anyone.
POP.
It was close but he couldn’t focus on it.
POP.
He had a frightening realisation.
POP.
He swallowed in dismay and put a finger in one ear.
This time the POP was muffled.
The noise was coming from him…his ears…and it seemed to be getting louder!
POP.
He had to get to his room otherwise surely someone would hear, if not everyone in the hospital.
POP.
He started to run back the way he’d come when the whole corridor was filled with the sound of an alarm; a shrill whine that rose and dipped like a tidal wave. Morris’ heart was in his mouth and he started to run as fast as he could.
Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, someone, somewhere, shouted and he could hear running footsteps echoing everywhere.
POP.
Total panic! Morris ran blindly, flinching with every POP, cowering from the light, the alarm and the prospect of being caught out of his room.
The noise of people running and shouting echoed through the passages. Morris felt that he would surely be seen, he had to hide!
The clatter of lots of running feet and the bustle of bodies seemed on top of him and he skidded to a halt at the door nearest him. He opened it and dived inside, ducking down and putting his fingers in his ears.
‘Get him! He’s gone that way!’
Morris heard footsteps pass, stop, and then turn back.
‘Hmmmm,’ someone stood for a moment outside the door and the door handle moved.
Morris held his breath, something about this person made a chill run down his spine.
However, a clattering of feet from a following group grew louder and the person let go of the handle said ‘Curses!’ and ran on. Moments later the stampede of heavier running feet passed and the noises and shouting continued down the corridor until all was quiet except for the alarm.
Morris felt every muscle in his body relax and he took a deep breath.
‘Hello,’ said a small voice from behind.
5. Peter
He turned with a sense of dread.
The room was dark, but as far as he could make out he was in a normal hospital room, although the bed was empty and he couldn’t see who had spoken.
‘Errr, I can’t see you,’ said Morris.
‘Over here, by the bed.’
Despite the gloom Morris was sure he’d be able to see a person, but still he saw no one.
‘It must be my eyes,’ he concluded. ‘This disease must have affected my eyes…earlier I was able to see three of everything…now I can’t see you…sorry,’ said Morris to the room.
‘It’s not your eyes,’ said the voice. ‘I’m over by the bed.’
Morris walked slowly, all the time trying to fix on a human shape but there was definitely no one on the bed, nor, he crouched, was there anyone under it.
‘Stop,’ said the voice.
He stopped and looked around.
‘Turn left.’
He turned left.
‘Look down.’
He did.
‘No, not at your feet, up a bit.’
He was looking at a box of tissues on a bedside table.
‘Behind the box…in front of the lamp.’
Morris looked hard, and as he did, he saw a figure…he couldn’t believe his eyes but no more than three inches tall stood a person standing and waving at him.
‘Hi!’ the boy waved. ‘My name’s Peter…Pint-Sized Peter.’
Never, thought Morris, had a name been so right.
The boy had dark hair in a side parting and was dressed in striped pyjamas and a red dressing gown, and he had a big smile across his face. He was obviously pleased to have Morris for company.
POP.
‘Put your fingers in your ears,’ cried Peter. ‘You don’t want them to hear you!’
This made things difficult for Morris. Trying to listen to anyone was difficult with fingers in his ears, but Peter’s voice was smaller than most, and even more difficult to hear. He put his fingers in his ears every other second with the hope of hiding the POPs while still managing to hear most of what the boy had to say.
‘Wow! You’re sm –,’ said Morris.
POP.
‘– small?’ said the boy. ‘I just started to shrink a few weeks ago, when I was walking my dog one night. By the time I’d got home it was as if I was wearing by brother’s clothes and then each day it was obvious I was shrinking. When I got to two feet tall my mum thought we’d better see the Doctor.’
POP.
‘Fingers!’ he exclaimed.
‘Over the last two weeks I’ve shrunk faster and faster,’ said Peter, ‘and Doctor Grunk reckons I might be too small to find soon.’
‘But now you’re here,’ he said, smiling.
‘Me? What can I do?’ said Morris.
POP.
‘Fingers!’
‘You’ve got Yiddle’s!’
‘So?’ said Morris.
POP.
‘Fingers!’
‘But how can I help you?’
‘You don’t know?’
Morris shook his head.
‘Because Doctor Grunk says that Yiddle’s patients can perform miracles!’
‘M –.’
POP.
They both looked to the door as the alarm stopped and the commotion of running feet and yells returned to earshot – lots of people were still running around and they weren’t far away.
‘You’d better get back,’ said Peter. ‘They won’t be happy if they find you’ve tried to escape, and if the Bony Man gets you he’ll take you away and that would be a disaster!’
‘The Bony Man?’ said Morris quickly.
‘Yes, me and Eye-eye came to warn you earlier…the Doctor would never tell you!’
‘Eye-eye? And who’s the Bony Man?’
‘Eye-eye’s, my friend! We’ve heard peo
ple speak about the Bony Man, that’s what the alarm is for but you don’t have time now! Go!’ wailed Peter.
A herd of shoed buffaloes rattled Peter’s door as they careered past. Morris looked outside to see if all was clear.
It was. Now was the time to make a run for it.