The Good-For-Nothing Society | Completed

Chapter Thirty

How long it takes to get back to school: 40 minutes.
How quickly into that Elijah deteriorates: 20 minutes
How many times Dr Grim has to tell me to step back: approx 468.
% of blood Dr Grim thinks Elijah's lost: 27.
% of blood someone Elijah's age needs to lose before they die: 30-40.
Am I okay? Absolutely not.

The last I see of Elijah is his unconscious body being wheeled away from me, and into the pits of The Sanatorium. Stan follows shortly after. Then a nurse bustles me out of The San, refusing to take no for an answer, and onto a cold hard bench just outside door. I sit and I wait. For hours. Endless hours. Miss Gateshead commandeered Grace off for a debrief. A small mercy is letting me stay near Elijah, I suppose.

But I think I'd almost prefer to be giving a debrief than sat in the silence, waiting for any news. I replay the whole day in my head; everything we did, everything we could have done differently. How did Daniel manage to sneak up on us? How did he even know we were there? How do we know there isn't someone within the confines of these walls working for the C.O.A? And who is Vincent? Is it the boy I see in my dreams, telling me to run? Why did he want to help me? What the hell happened to me in my time away from here?

I pace back and forth, run my hands along the wall, anything to will the time away. It's agonising, not knowing how Elijah's doing, not knowing if he's alive. Images of Dr Grim running at us from the helicopter swirl in my mind, him working tirelessly on Elijah after he first fell unconscious. The worry etched in the doctors face as he feared Elijah wouldn't make it, and finally them wheeling him away from me, leaving me out here; waiting.

I know I will go down a dark path if Elijah is taken from me too, if I lose everyone I care about. There are some things in life there is no coming back from, and I won't be sorry for the things I do in the name of revenge.

My thoughts turn dark, imagining what my life will be like without the one person who has become most dear to me, then the door to The San opens, and Dr Grim steps out. He's in full PPE and looks as if he's come straight from surgery, which maybe he has. He stops when he's stood in front of me.

"He's going to live," Dr Grim tells me. "He might not ever use that arm again, but he's not going to die."

I nod, and squash all the emotions fighting their way to the surface. My voice is even as I ask, "And Stanley?"

Dr Grim gives me a funny look, mocking almost. "He'll be completely fine, bullet barely touched him."

I'm surprised, then I laugh to myself. Elijah almost dies and calls it just a scratch, the bullet barely touches Stanley and he was crawling along the floor as if his leg had blown off.

"Don't let Stan know that," I say, "In fact, no one should ever know that."

Dr Grim smiles at me, "I agree."

I look past him, towards the door, "Can I see them now?"

"Yes, we've just woken them. They will be a bit groggy."

"Thats okay," I mutter, heading for the door. I turn just as I reach it, "Thank you."

He gives me a nod, "It's my job."

Which, when you think about it, I suppose it is, but it still saved Elijah's life. I give him a smile and head in, my heart hammering away in my chest. I don't know how operatives stay so composed, I think I'm going to cry as soon as my eyes land on Elijah, and sure enough tears pool over, I have to wipe at them so I can see him properly.

"Hey," He says as soon as he sees me, "It's okay. I told you I'd be okay."

For as long as I live, I will never be able to explain the feelings of terror that ran through me as his body went limp, his arm falling to the side of the cot he was in, Dr Grim moving faster than I've ever seen anyone move. No one gets to downplay that, not even the boy who survived it.

"You're alive," I say, my voice is croaky. "That's what matters."

He grins at me, "Exactly. I'm bulletproof."

I stare at him, "Well, you're not. You're literally in hospital because a bullet went all the way through you."

"Okay," He's got a little lopsided grin on his lovely face, his eyes glossy, he looks drunk. "I'm murderproof."

"That's not a thing,"

"It is. I'm sat here, aren't I?"

"He's a showoff," Stan says, from the bed opposite.

I look at my teacher, my (unofficial) boyfriends brother, and ask, "How are you feeling?"

He gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "Fine. Great. Better than him anyway."

Elijah looks indignant, "I'm fine. It was my first brush with death, it's exciting. Now I'm gonna be irresistible."

"You were already irresistible!"

"Yeah," He shrugs his one shoulder, "But now I've added a bit of spice."

"I think you meant to say insufferable," Stan says.

I snicker, "He was already that too."

Elijah gives me an outraged look, "I almost died today, protecting you, and this is how you repay me?"

I know he's joking, but his words evoke guilt all through my body. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"I was joking," He says immediately, "I was joining in the banter."

"But you're right," I say to him, all joking gone. "I owe you my life."

Elijah gives me a long, adoring look, "You are my life."

"Christ," Stan says, "Nurse! I'm gonna be sick!"

The three of us laugh, and for a brief second I feel like a normal teenager with normal friends; living a normal life. If you ignore the fact we're sat in a hospital inside spy school because some raging lunatic shot at us today, a sniper, in broad daylight. Nothing about this is normal. Nothing about this is fair.