Page 74

Helen tore along the corridor, desperately scanning for the masked figures who had suddenly vanished into thin air.

She had only been a minute or two behind them, yet incredibly none of the dozen workers were now visible, every one of them having vanished into the bowels of the labyrinthine hospital.

Hurrying on down the main corridor, she spotted a young doctor emerge from a side room, making his way fast towards the cafeteria.

‘Hey, excuse me …’

The doctor turned, clearly surprised to see a biker in full leathers bearing down on him.

‘Which way for the surgical block, please?’

‘Two floors up and all the way to the north end, but it’s closed for the night now, and you can’t just …’

Helen didn’t hear the rest, eating up the yards to the stairs.

Pushing through the doors, she took them three at a time, emerging two floors up in a matter of seconds.

Turning left, she hurried down the long corridor, following the arrows pointing towards the surgical block.

She felt sure that if she was to find the bedraggled workers anywhere it would be here, executing their unpleasant duties.

Helen expected to find them labouring in silence, broken in spirit if not in body, but to her surprise, she now heard angry shouting ahead.

Moments later, a figure burst around the corner, running directly towards her.

She was dressed in mask and tracksuit, her feet clad in bloodstained Crocs, the soles of which squeaked noisily on the plastic flooring.

The young woman was clearly struggling, breathless and agonized, moaning pitifully as she ran for her life.

Now Helen clocked the cause of her desperation, a burly figure clad in jeans and a bomber jacket skidding around the corner in pursuit.

To her surprise, his feet also seemed to be coated in blood, a fact which appeared to enrage him, his vicious face purple with fury.

The pair raced down the corridor, giving Helen only a split second to react.

Dropping her helmet, she hurried towards them, holding out her free hand to the fleeing woman.

The latter slowed now, confused and concerned, but then recognition took hold, the desperate fugitive hurling herself towards her.

As she did so, however, the young woman appeared to lose her balance, crashing heavily onto the floor, skidding to a halt by Helen’s feet.

Helen stooped down to help her, instantly realizing her mistake.

Her pursuer was nearly upon them, primed to launch himself at them both.

She could hear his low growl, sense his eagerness for violence, knew she was only seconds from impact.

Straightening up quickly, she cast desperately around, her eye falling on a metal catering trolley, laden with dirty plates and mugs, lying abandoned to her side.

Seizing it, she swung the heavy trolley round, before propelling it directly towards the approaching thug.

He had no time to react, the obstacle connecting sharply with his gut, arresting his progress and sending him sprawling onto the dirty plates, several of which crashed noisily to the floor.

Winded, shocked, he tried to right himself to attack, but once more he was too slow, Helen’s fist connecting sharply with his throat.

Gasping, clutching his Adam’s apple, the figure stumbled backwards, collapsing into the side wall.

Helen didn’t waste any more time on him – that fight was won – turning instead to the young woman who looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

‘Come with me,’ Helen said, picking up her helmet, as she hauled the startled worker to her feet.

Within seconds, they had disappeared from the corridor, throwing themselves down two flights of stairs, Helen clutching her helmet in one hand and her companion’s hand in the other.

Pushing out into the main corridor, Helen paused for a second to get her bearings, then clocking the sign for the main exit, dragged the young worker in that direction.

On they ran, dodging staff cleaners and bemused nurses, charging on as if their lives depended upon it.

Up ahead, Helen spotted the automatic doors that led out onto the main concourse and the car park beyond.

Scenting deliverance, she upped the pace, ushering the limping woman towards the exit.

They were so close now, a couple of hundred feet more and then they would be safe.

The doors parted and Helen propelled them out into the cold night air.

The drop in temperature was a tonic, suffusing Helen and her companion with energy, but now at the point of deliverance, danger reared its head once more, another bomber-jacketed thug looming up in front of them, intent on cutting off their escape.

Had he got wind of their escape attempt?

Had his mate called ahead to warn him of the danger?

Helen took a bold step forward and swung out with her helmet.

Her assailant had not been expecting this and reacted too late to stop the heavy mass of fibreglass crashing into his temple.

He hit the ground hard, but Helen didn’t look back, skirting her fallen assailant and sprinting to her bike.

‘Get on,’ Helen demanded urgently, installing herself on the front of the saddle, as her companion painfully manoeuvred her leg over. ‘And hold on tight.’

Helen felt the woman grip her fiercely and, tearing back the throttle, they tore off into the night, racing through the car park and out onto the city streets.

Streaking through an amber light, Helen sped on, steadily increasing her speed, as she looked nervously in her side mirrors.

But there was no need to worry, the hospital, their attackers, the van just a receding speck in the distance now.

They had escaped.