By the time noon had come and gone, Holly was about ready to knock the brains out of the so-called physicians. That is, if their skulls contained anything that could resemble brains.
“He is completely healthy” was the universal opinion. “His near-coma is induced by mental stress. There’s nothing to do except wait it out.”
As Holly watched the last quack leave, brushing his hands off as if the ‘mental stress’ were contagious, Bianca closed the door behind him.
“I didn’t think they could help,” she murmured.
Holly sank into a chair, sat for about three seconds, and then leapt up again. “Why, Jack?” she shouted at the unconscious man on the bed. “Why? What’s the point? What are you trying to pull?”
As if trying to answer her, Jack groaned and arched his back, pulling at the pillow underneath his head. The fabric slipped from between his fingers, and he grasped at it again and again.
Holly felt her eyes fill. “Out of my way,” she muttered, shoving Bianca aside and darting into the hall. She ran past nurses and doctors, and almost overturned an occupied gurney to get by faster. She descended the two flights of stairs, crossed the lobby, and burst out into the fresh, cold air.
Almost instantly a wind dried the tears escaping onto her cheeks. She sniffed and hunched her shoulder, scrubbing the last of the dampness from her skin. The hub of Invierno business – the Winter Boulevard – lay stretched out before her, and there was no way anyone was going to see the Holly crying.
She looked up at the pale disc of sun. Going to the side of the hospital’s frontal façade, Holly dropped onto one of the benches, specially made from snow for the pickier Ice People. She picked at the flaky surface while she thought. And thought.
Who could help Jack?
Holly raked her free hand through her hair. Who knew.
Then she sat bolt upright. She did know.
“Ah-ha!” Holly sang, jumping to her feet. She ignored the doubtful look a woman exiting the hospital shot her. “I am a genius!”
Holly ran bank into the hospital and made for the nearest transmitter booth. She snatched the speaker/repeater from its square charger box, unplugged it, then eyed the map as the transmitter powered up. An image of Sector Country materialized, and Holly tapped Legend Sector. Legend swarmed closer, and Holly pecked the area of New Athens. The districts kept getting smaller and smaller until Holly managed to locate Hermes’s house.
“Across from the Blacksmith’s temple...” Holly suppressed a shudder of bad memories, and tapped Hermes’s house. She held the speaker/repeater to her ear.
“The party in question has turned off his transmitter.” The warm, electronic voice made Holly’s heart stop. “We suggest attempting another location, or calling at another—“
“I suggest you melt,” Holly said, smacking the speaker/repeater into the side of the box and jamming its charger cable in its plug.
She slumped against the glass side of the booth. Now what... she thought, thumping her head back into the glass. Guess I’ll have to try later.
“Thanks a lot, Hermes,” she muttered, pushing the booth door to the side and stumbling out into the hospital lobby again. People swarmed around her, and she had to stand on her tiptoes and keep her elbows out to avoid getting trampled. “Why can’t anyone stay safe anymore?” she ranted at the crowds, mindless of who heard her. “All have to be in here getting injuries... probably ingrown toenails, bunch of ice-less freaks. Forget you, Hermes!” she suddenly exclaimed, fighting her way to the stairs.
“Now, that’s not very nice.”
Holly whirled around and nearly buried her nose in the white cloth of a Grecian-style tunic. “Hermes!” she yelped.
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