Fangtooth by Shaun Jeffrey Page A

going to have to
get back to his real job of website designing eventually when they connected
his phone line and set up his internet account. Some of the tasks, like the
rotten bedroom window and the dodgy plumbing, were best left to the
professionals. This reminded him to ask Duncan if he could recommend anyone;
better not to upset the local tradesmen if he could help it by getting in
outsiders to do the work. One person off his Christmas card list in a small
village was already one too many.
     
    The new resort was bustling. Families
were playing on the beach, and kids were paddling in the sea and running
through the arcades. Bruce wondered whether news of the attack had filtered
through yet. Looking at the kids in the sea, he doubted it. Perhaps the attack
was an isolated incident, but then what had happened to Erin? He assured himself
it was probably unconnected, and followed the signs to the hospital.
    He parked in the car park and made his
way to the reception. The hospital was a modern building with a large glass
front. The automatic doors glided open and Bruce walked inside. He basked in
the cool interior, took a moment to waft the neck of his T-shirt. He’d tried to
dress casually in new black jeans and a T-shirt, but now he wondered if it was
appropriate attire for visiting someone in hospital. That’s if they let him see
her.
    The woman seated at reception looked up
and stared at Bruce over the top of her glasses. She had a studious expression,
her black hair tied back in a severe ponytail that only accentuated the sharp
angles of her face.
    “Yes?” she said.
    “Erm, I wonder if you can help me. There
was a woman brought in earlier.”
    “Name?”
    “Erin.”
    The receptionist stared at him as though
he were stupid. “Erin who?”
    Bruce leaned forward. He knew all too
well that hospitals had strict visiting procedures. “McVey. She’s my sister.”
    The receptionist tapped a pencil against
her teeth.
    Bruce gave her what he hoped was his
best smile. After another moment, the woman ran her finger down a list on her
desk.
    “Well, visiting hours aren’t for another
hour.”
    “How is she?”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Well, couldn’t I just pop in and see
how she is?”
    After another embarrassingly long
silence and prolonged staring match, she said, “Second floor. Ward four. Tell
the duty nurse I said it was all right.”
    “Thank you.” Anxious to be out of her
sight, Bruce turned and followed the signs to the second floor. On the way, he
passed a small kiosk selling flowers, and he bought a bunch. Probably the least
green-fingered person he knew, he hoped the flowers didn’t die before he
reached the room.
    Bruce followed the signs to the ward
until he found himself standing outside the double doors. Small squares of
glass in each door allowed him to peer through before entering. He couldn’t
spot Erin, although there was one bed with the curtains drawn around it. He
realised his palms were sweating, and he felt slightly nauseous. What the hell
was the matter with him? He was only paying a visit in the hospital. But he
knew that wasn’t all there was to it. He swallowed to dislodge the lump in his
throat, then he took a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped into the
room. A small woman wearing round glasses sat at a desk inside the ward. She
looked up at Bruce, and he quickly explained the reason for his visit.
    The duty nurse pointed along the ward.
“She’s resting. Bed at the end with the curtain drawn around it.” With that,
she returned her attention to the paperwork on her desk.
    As in the rest of the hospital, there
was an antiseptic aroma in the air, but there was also the undeniable faint
smell of blood and human waste that almost made him turn around and head back
out.
    The few patients who weren’t drowsing
looked at him for a moment then turned away. The television at the end of the
room was on, but with the sound turned down low the muffled exchange of