Closure Read Online Free

into its charging station, snatches it up again and dials the 3-digit hospital emergency number which throws the entire site into emergency mode and alerts the police to be on the look out for a missing patient.
    â€œZack, find James. Hurry.”
    I dash out of the hospital without my leather jacket and regret it the moment I step into the cool autumn air. I shiver and realise it’s not from the cold, but adrenaline. I jog up the street, cut into the park. As I run I look left and right for James. Pigeons scatter from my approach. I take the north exit and bound up the stairs of the footbridge that arches over the railway line. As I cross the old splintered planks of the bridge, I glance at the station platforms, trip and recover awkwardly. On the semi-crowded platforms I pick out a figure in white tennis clothes, standing a hundred yards away. He looks squarely in my direction, lifts his arms and waves. I grab the diamond-patterned wire fence that encases the bridge.
    â€œJames! James!”
    The train rumbles under the bridge and blocks my view. As it enters the station, its brakes fill the air with a high-pitched whine. A handful of pigeons swoop from the station.
    â€œZack! Zack!”
    I peer towards the other side of the bridge and there is James in white tennis gear, tennis rackets under his arm and a tube of tennis balls held high in the air with the other hand. He looks at me and at the train. He shakes his head and raises his eyebrows to show his surprise.
    I run up to him and squash an impulse to hug him and punch him all at once.
    â€œWhat are you doing off the ward?”
    â€œI secured Dr Arbutnot’s permission myself but I told a little white lie to cover your ass. I told Zoe that you called him for me. You’ve been busy.”
    He digs into his pocket and pulls out a green slip. I grab it from him. The date is today’s and the signature resembles Arbutnot’s indecipherable scrawl.
    The train pulls away with a hum that rises in pitch as it picks up speed.
    â€œWhy would you think it was helpful to me for you to tell others that I said it was okay for you to leave the ward?”
    â€œI like you, Zack, but you are new to the nursing game; you just qualified for God’s sake. By the way, I told Cheryl to cut you some slack. She’s been chasing you all morning. I’m feeling like my old self, even if you can’t see it.”
    â€œI’m glad you’re okay, but I’m mad at you for lying. Let’s walk back.”
    â€œOkey-dokey. The tennis courts are being cleaned so I can’t play anyway.”
    â€œWho were you going to play with?”
    â€œMy friend, Mr Charles.”
    â€œNot Mr Charles again, James. I thought you got over him.”
    â€œI tried but he came back for a game of tennis.”
    â€œYou and I know full well that there is no Mr Charles.”
    â€œJust a minute ago, on the platform, you saw him wave at me.”
    â€œThat was Mr Charles?”
    â€œThe one and only. My confidant and tennis partner.”
    â€œWe can talk this one through when we get back to the ward.”
    â€œOkey-dokey.”
    I dial the ward. Zoe picks up. I tell her to stand down the emergency code, James is fine and we’re on our way.
    Zoe meets us at the entrance to the ward. A broad smile makes two slivers of her eyes. She pats me on the back and leads James by the arm to a room for a consultation. He winks at me as he follows her in. I pour myself a coffee and drop into a chair in the office to make a few notes about the incident with James. I call the locked ward to ask about Rodney Samuels. The nurse reports that he’s sleeping; the sedatives have taken a hold on him and he’ll be out of it for days, revived for meals and the toilet, but kept under a strict and heavy drugs regimen. That protocol for aggressive sick people ensures no more violence or break-outs, and amazingly, when patients surface from it, they behave with