Maggie held her crossed arms up to protect herself, protect the baby as he slashed towards her with the knife. She was terrified, utterly terrified as the knife came into contact with the bag and freezing cold blood gushed from the ruptured plastic and ran all down her and pooled on the linoleum floor.
The rich, metallic scent mingled with the aroma of her own fear as the moment seemed to freeze in time. He wrenched the bag out of her hands then, knocking her backwards in the process.
Maggie tried to regain her balance but slipped in the sticky mess at her feet. She twisted, cried out, fell and hit her head on the hard wooden arm of the lounge chair on the way down.
She heard the vague clattering of the knife and saw it land not far from her head in her peripheral vision before everything went black and she lost consciousness.
Nash and Gemma had finished in Radiology and were discussing Nash’s move to Great Ormond Street Hospital when Linda caught up with them, a bag of chips and a can of soft drink in hand.
‘Been raiding the machine?’ Gemma asked.
Linda nodded. ‘I was over visiting a friend on ward two. And you know me, can’t go by that damn machine without sampling the wares.’
‘Well, all proceeds do go to Radio Giggle,’ Gemma pointed out. ‘So really you’re just making a charitable donation.’
Linda laughed. ‘That’s the way I like to look at it.’
They reached the end of their corridor and turned right. Nash noticed some smudges on the floor. ‘What’s that?’ He frowned.
They all looked down. ‘Looks like a bloody footprint,’ Linda mused.
Nash looked up, noticing they disappeared around the corner they were soon to take. He looked behind him in the opposite direction, tracking them with his eyes as they travelled the length of the corridor.
‘Someone might have cut their foot,’ Linda suggested.
Nash nodded but had a strange itch up his spine as they followed the trail. The wall bore a bloody handprint just before they rounded the corner.
‘Curious and curiouser,’ Gemma murmured.
Nash was the first to see the body on the floor, followed closely by Linda who gasped. His heart almost stopped in his chest as his shocked brain, already reeling from seeing a woman on the floor surrounded in blood, realised it was Maggie.
‘Maggie!’
He ran to her side, kneeling in the blood, uncaring of his clothes or getting blood on himself. His mind raced, trying to sort through all possible scenarios. What the hell had happened? Where had all this blood come from? Nash didn’t think he’d ever seen so much in his life.
‘Maggie.’ He shook her this time.
Gemma felt for a carotid. ‘Good pulse.’
Nash felt some of the edge to his panic dissipate but then Linda said, ‘Oh, no,’ as she held up a bloodied knife.
Nash felt sick. Someone had stabbed her?
‘I’ll call the crash team and Security,’ Gemma said pulling her mobile out of her pocket.
Nash yanked out the heavy-duty scissors he carried in a pouch on his belt and in a couple of seconds had sheared through Maggie’s polo shirt. Her white bra was soaked red as he ran his hands all over her abdomen and chest searching for a wound. The feel of her warm congealing blood made him more and more frantic.
When he couldn’t find an entry point, he sheared through each leg of her trousers and repeated the exercise, looking for the bleeding point.
‘This amount of blood has to indicate a major vessel, Nash,’ Gemma said as she too tried to locate where the fresh-looking blood was coming from.
Nash’s movements grew more frantic. He felt like he was watching the life force ebb from her, could smell her blood all around him, and he wanted to pick her up and hug her to him.
Shake her. Tell her not to leave him.
‘Nowhere. There’s nowhere,’ Gemma said. ‘Where else could she be bleeding from?’
Then Nash knew. The baby. Oh, God, was she miscarrying? Had she haemorrhaged and fainted? A fresh wave of panic hit him. ‘She’s pregnant,’ he said, looking up at Gemma.
Gemma and Linda stared at him like he’d lost his mind. ‘Are you sure?’ Linda asked.
Nash nodded. ‘It’s mine. I’m sure.’
There were a couple more seconds when they continued to look at him in disbelief but then Maggie started to stir and everything was forgotten.
‘Maggie?’ Nash felt his heart leap in his chest as she moved her head and groaned.
‘Maggie, it’s Gemma. Can you open your eyes?’
Maggie’s head was thumping and Gemma’s voice sounded very far away but she prised her eyes open obediently. Gemma swam in and out of focus.
‘Maggie!’
Nash? ‘Nash? What’s wrong?’ She tried to sit up but hands held her down. ‘What happened?’ she asked dazedly.
‘Were you stabbed? Where, Maggie? Where were you stabbed?’ Nash ran his hands over her again looking for a wound.
Maggie frowned as her head continued to throb. ‘What? No.’ The events came flooding back. She struggled to sit and was held down again. She became aware of the congealing blood sticking to her arms, caking on her body. ‘He didn’t stab me,’ she protested. ‘He got the bag of blood. Not me.’
‘He who?’ Linda demanded.
‘Christopher’s grandfather. He slashed the bag and then ripped it off me and ran. I fell...slipped in the blood and hit my head.’ Maggie lifted her hand to her head to try and ease the jackhammers drilling into her skull.
The crash team, consisting of an A and E doctor and two of their nurses, an anaesthetist and two wards men along with three burly security guards, burst through the nearby fire escape door.
Ray arrived as part of the PICU response at the same time. They all froze as they took in the scene.
Had Maggie’s head not throbbed so much she might have laughed. She guessed it did rather look like a massacre had just occurred. And then they all moved at once and there was pandemonium in the corridor.
The head security officer called for back-up and made a call to the police. He sent his two officers to search for the perpetrator. Gemma organised the wardies to get a gurney and sent the A and E staff back to their department. Linda organised Ray to take charge of the unit and two of the newly arrived security officers went with him.
Maggie looked at Nash who was looking even worse than the morning he’d found the positive pregnancy test in her bathroom. He was running his bloodied hands through his hair and a smear of blood marred one otherwise perfect cheek.
‘Nash?’
Nash heard her small voice, usually so firm and assured, and he hauled her into a sitting position and tucked her into his chest. She was trembling and he hugged her closer. He didn’t care that he’d have even more blood over him or that the hand he had on her head, stroking her hair, was covered in the red sticky stuff.
She was okay. The baby was okay.
That was all that mattered.
‘Bloody hell, Maggie, you scared the living daylights out of me.’
Maggie rested her cheek against his shirt. It felt heavenly against her thumping temple and she turned her face into his shirt, smelling the essence of him, eliminating the sickly metallic aroma playing havoc with her nausea.
‘Come on, you two,’ Linda interrupted. ‘We need to get Maggie to X-Ray.’