Hugo stared at the hospital map, frequently casting nervous glances around the quiet waiting room. There weren’t many people there, but most of them were watching the news, thankful for the curious distraction. No one was paying attention to him, which was good, because he was really having trouble coming up with an excuse for being there. With one last glance, to make sure no one was looking, he headed to the burn ward. People hurried past him, but no one stopped him. He glanced into several observation windows as he passed them. His Converse squeaked on the linoleum floor as he jerked to a stop in front of one of them; a doctor, black hair pulled in a tight ponytail, had one hand on the exploding man, the other curled tightly around his chart. The monitors beeped impassively. The doctor glanced nervously behind her, and then immediately turned around when Hugo wasn’t fast enough to duck out of her line of sight. Ohshitohshitohshit! It was the woman from the wind tunnel dream, but now her blue eyes were full of fear. He was going to be in serious trouble. Hugo turned and very quickly continued down the hallway.
“Young man?” A voice called after him.
He wanted to keep going, but his body stopped and he slowly turned around, “Um…Y-yes are you uh talking to me?” Oh very good, you don’t sound suspicious at all, Hugo.
“Yes, you sir. What are you doing down here? Do you have family in this wing?”
“Ye-” he’d blow it. He couldn’t lie for shit and the doctor would ask him to check in at the front desk anyway and she might already know the name of the exploding guy and he was seriously screwed, “no. I just…I uh…got…lost….looking for…the bathroom. With the map, it’s a little…”
“I understand, sir.” She did not understand. She knew he was full of shit and most likely a huge jerk with a morbid sense of curiosity, “Let me show (escort) you to the waiting room facilities.”
For some reason the way her hands rested stiffly against her sides, the way she was only partially turned towards him, and the way her eyes scanned the hallway, telegraphed she was nervous, like he’d caught her doing something. Was she not supposed to be touching the patient? “This way, sir.”
“Thanks.” Hugo shoved his hands in his pockets and followed the woman down the hallway. He was so stupid. What had he been thinking? What had he expected to happen?
“Have a good night, sir.” She had a name tag: Doctor McFadden. She spun on her heel and clicked back down the immaculate hallway. She hadn’t even shown him to the bathroom.
Hugo shuffled through the waiting room, hands still shoved deep in his pockets. He would see the young doctor (she couldn’t have been in her late 20’s even) again, if he hadn’t messed it up already by pissing her off just then. She hadn’t seemed angry in the dream, just smiling, her light blue eyes bright and curious.
There were several men in suits at the front desk, one flashing a badge at the receptionist. Hugo found himself involuntarily wandering closer so that he could hear the conversation.
“This is a matter of national security, ma’am. We need to see the unidentified survivor. He may be a suspected terrorist.” The receptionist jumped a little and immediately started clicking the keys on her keyboard. The stalky suit who had been speaking was of average height and had closely cropped brown hair. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed slightly. He was impatient, as were his compatriots. They were all working on some time frame. They were either telling the truth, or believed they were. But did they know what the exploding man could do? Hugo fidgeted. He wanted to ask them, but that was a monumentally stupid idea.
One of the agents glanced around the waiting room, and then fixed on Hugo. Shit! He was just staring at them, of course he looked suspicious. The man leaned towards the guy at the desk and mumbled something. The other guy turned in Hugo’s direction, but the receptionist was handing him a piece of paper and a doctor was coming up to greet them. Hugo took his chance and immediately made for the front door. It probably would look suspicious if they were still paying attention, but he made it out unharassed and was pulling out a cigarette almost before he’d cleared the sliding double doors.
It was amazing how stupid he was. What was he doing at the hospital? He should have been minding his own business- and there was a black van idling in an emergency parking spot. Hugo was just going to mind his own business from now on…but it wouldn’t hurt to just look at the license plate and maybe convince his brother to run them later. It wouldn’t hurt at all.
He made it across the street before the agents came out, wheeling a gurney, the young Doctor McFadden in tow. She seemed angry and frustrated, and was having an animated conversation with the head guy, one hand on the gurney even as she let them guide it to the back of the van. They lifted the exploding man into the van, which for some reason made Hugo’s stomach tighten. These people obviously knew who the guy was and hadn’t managed to take care of him before. No, instead he’d ended up stuck in a barrel and exploded.
The head guy continued the conversation with the doctor. There was one moment of intense surprise on her face, and then the agent was helping her get into the van. Hugo wanted to yell at her to stop; she didn’t know what the hell she was getting into.
But he didn’t really know either, so his mouth stayed closed. They drove away. Hugo continued to stand there, stupidly staring after the van. There weren’t a whole lot of people out, just a wild-looking teenager that was also watching the progress of the van down the street. He’d like to know what she’d seen. Hugo took a step towards her and then stopped. No. He’d done quite enough amateur sleuthing for the night. It was time to head back to the bar and see if there was anyone left to give him a ride home. A taxi would be way too expensive. Maybe he’d email his brother about the plates tomorrow.