Page 94 of A Long Way Back
“My friend.”
The guy winced. “He got stabbed. Did you know?”
Tay gasped. “What?”
“While he was fending off one the attackers, another came up behind him and got him in the back. He fell. Someone dragged your friend away. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
How the hell would you know?Tay was trying not to panic but his heart was racing, his mouth dry. It was pointless trying to get back through the barrier. If he’d been fit, he might have tried. but he’d not get more than a couple of yards in a wheelchair before he was stopped. He’d be better off going to whichever hospital Ink had been taken to. He wheeled his chair over to a policewoman who was keeping people behind the blue and white tape.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where the injured are being taken. My friend…” Tay’s voice broke.What if Ink was dead?Oh God.He almost felt the blood drain from his head.
“Don’t know, I’m sorry.”
In the depths of despair, Tay was torn. He wanted to keep hoping he’d see Ink coming towards him carrying his crutch, but he had to accept that was becoming increasingly unlikely. He wasn’t sure whether to wait for news of those who were injured, except they might not tell him, or go to the nearest A&E hospital, that also might tell him nothing. There were ambulances around now and a lot of police vehicles.
He wheeled himself away from the scrum and took out his phone. Still no answer from Ink. The closest hospital was University College. It seemed logical those who were injured would be taken there, but if there were too many, other hospitals might be used. No hospital would be giving out information yet, and maybe not to him because he and Ink weren’t related. And if Ink hadn’t been taken to UCLH, he might be heading in the wrong direction.Shit.He didn’t know what to do.
In the end, he checked the route on his phone. It was just over a mile to UCLH. He could catch a bus, though he’d be wheeling himself a few hundred yards in the wrong direction to reach the stop, and if there was a queue or the buses weren’t running because of this incident, he’d have wasted time and energy. Instead, using the map on his phone, he wheeled his way north to Bloomsbury Street and every few hundred yards, he called Ink and willed him to answer.
He didn’t.
By the time Tay reached the British Museum, he was exhausted. The adrenaline rush had gone. Only concern about Ink kept him moving. No buses passed him which made him glad he’d chosen to make his own way here. When his phone rang, he jerked the chair to a halt and flipped on the brake. He groaned in disappointment when he found it was his mother.
“Hi,” Tay said.
“You were supposed to phone me after you’d seen the doctor.”
“Something’s happened.” Tay’s throat closed up and he swallowed hard.
“What? Are you okay?”
He couldn’t speak.
“Tay, talk to me. Do you need help? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He gasped. “Ink and I were about to have a meal in Covent Garden and… There was an incident. A terrorist attack. People got stabbed.”
“Oh my God, Tay. Are you all right?”
He opened his mouth to tell her that he didn’t know what had happened to Ink, that he felt sick with anxiety, then changed his mind. He didn’t want her offering to fly back.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Well, that wasn’t a lie. “It was frightening.”
“How close were you to what happened?”
“Pretty close.” He tightened his grip on the phone. “I’m well away now. I’m not in danger.”
“Thank goodness for that. So what did the doctor say?”
“No more visits unless I feel I need to see him.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“Yep.” Tay did his best to sound upbeat.
“How are you and Ink getting along?”
His heart clenched. “I like him.”
