Page 61 of Bred By the Minotaur
Twenty-Two
Phoebe
The call wakes me up from a dead sleep. It’s a local number, and it made its way through my spam filter, so it must be something important.
I pick it up. “H-hello...?”
“Is this Phoebe?” asks a deep voice on the other end.
“Yes, this is she.”
“Ron here. Hank’s coworker. Hank’s on his way to the hospital right now. You should go meet him there.”
Wait, what? My mind reels. Hank, at the hospital?
“What happened?” I demand, sitting up straight in bed. “Is he okay?”
“No. He’s not. Go to the hospital now, Phoebe.”
Then the phone goes dead.
I leap out of bed, throw on my clothes, and rush up the stairs. I wake Milo by shaking him.
“Milo, we have to go. Come on.”
Eventually I rouse him, and when he asks what’s happened, all I can say is, “Your dad. I don’t know, but we’re going to the hospital.”
That’s all it takes. Milo starts crying as we get in the car, frantic to know what might be wrong.
“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” I say, but it’s an empty platitude. I have no idea what awaits us there, but my heart is beating a million miles a minute, my hands shaking on the wheel of the car.
I hope he’s okay. I can’t stand the idea that something happened to him tonight.
Finally, we’re there, and I’m holding back my own tears as we find parking. When we get in the front doors of the hospital, we head right to reception.
“Hank Pittsfield?” I ask.
The receptionist eyes us.
“This is his son,” I say, gesturing at Milo. “I’m the... nanny.”
She clicks a few times on her computer, and I’m itching to demand she show us to Hank now. I need to know what’s happened to him. Milo is still sniffling at my side, and I clutch his hand tighter.
“What’s your name?”
“Phoebe. Phoebe Harrigan.”
She clicks a few more times, and I’m impatiently waiting, grinding my teeth the more minutes tick by.
“ID please?”
I quickly slip it out of my wallet and hand it over, and she studies it before handing it back.
“Hank has you listed here. He’s in the ER right now.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
I hold Milo’s hand as we follow the signs toward the ER, turning this way and that but getting nowhere. Eventually, we’re stopped by a doctor on the third floor.
