To the Hospital

"What's the matter here, Mr. Ja— Oh no! Mr. Gab! Are you okay?" It was Mr. Thomas, a man in his mid-thirties, one of the tenants in the apartment. He kneeled by my side to check the landlord's condition.

"I think he was hit by a bottle," I told him.

"We should bring him to the hospital," he said.

People started to gather around us, whispering to the person beside them. And I bet that if it were in my previous world, they'd be recording this already with their phone cameras. It's annoying.

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch him bleed to death, huh? No ones gonna help? Really?" I can't help but raise my voice.

"You!" I pointed to the guy I often see drinking with Mr. Mason. "Get someone, a carraige or whatever to bring him to the hospital," I instructed him. I suspect that if I didn't do that, no one's gonna do it either. But the man just stood there, his mouth hung open with clear confusion written on his face while pointing his index finger at himself.

"Yes, you! Now go! Quick!"

"R—Right! I'll — I'll go get one now. Wait for me," he said as he run off.

"There! That should stop the bleeding for a while," Mr. Thomas said. He tied my handkerchief to Mr. Gab's forehead and he used his for Mr. Gab's left eye. An almost transparent liquid was dripping from it. I hope that eye doesn't go blind.

Moments later, the carriage arrived.

"Where's the person?" the coachman asked.

"Mister, over here!" I shouted as I waved my hand to get his attention.

He hopped from the carriage and headed in our direction.

The people moved to the side except for the group of women lost in their own world as they whispered to each other — obviously gossiping. And who else would it be if it wasn't Madam Helen and her gossip troop?

"Excuse me, ladies. Could you move to the side? You're blocking the way," the coachman told them, and only then did they move to the side.

"Mr. Gab, can you stand? We're bringing you to the hospital," I said to him.

"It hurts! It hurts! —"

Mr. Thomas sighed and then he turned to me to say, "Mr. Jack, I'll need you assistance in bringing him to the carraige. Can you help?"

"Sure."

"Bear with it a little, Mr. Gab. Okay, in the count of three, lift. One… Two… Three!" And with his lead, we successfully carried him to the carriage.

"One of you should come with him, I think." The coachman told us.

"You're right," Mr. Thomas said. "Mr. Jack, can you do it? I'll go and report this to the police station."

"Sure. Just tell them he was attacked by three teenage males."

"Got it!"

***

Walls painted with white. People wearing scrubs. An enormous double-swing door by my front. A flickering red light below the red uppercase letters that say, "EMERGENCY". Somehow, I found myself in the exact position when I got into a carriage accident and had my shoulder blade dislocated. Sitting at the far right end of the tandem waiting chair. The exact location I had at that time.

Mr. Gab was behind that double-swing door, getting stitches. It's been a while already. But for some reason, I feel like I already heard this story before. Where was it again? Ah! Right! From that guard in Veritas Homes when I accepted the request for doing a night patrol.

Were they the same kids? If they were then they surely hadn't learned their lesson.

But my question is why? Why did they do it to Mr. Gab? Because if I remember it right, they hit the guard because they were denied entry. What about Mr. Gab? Did they wish to get into the apartment too? But taking Mr. Gab's personality into consideration, he would undoubtedly refuse.

But why would they want to get into the apartment in the first place? There's nothing interesting there. It was run-down and no significant person was renting there. And that's when I remembered Oliver's letter. A bad guy following me, huh. Was it me perhaps?

Those not-so-pleasant thoughts were forcefully shoved to the back of my head when a police was headed my way. And would you look at that! It's none other than Alviar's father, Jose.

"Good day to you, Sir." I greeted him.

"You're Jack Miller, aren't you? I'm pleased to meet you again. My son was so pissed since yesterday," he said. I noticed that the circles under his eyes had gotten worse somehow.

"No one saw that coming, Sir."

"You're right. Well then, Mr. Jack. Can I ask you a couple of questions? Mr. Thomas here said you were there when the incident happened," he said while pointing to his back. I didn't notice Mr. Thomas came with him too. I shot him a smile and agreed to answer Mr. Jose's questions.