Free Emergence by John Birmingham Page A

inquiry.
    *
    It was dark outside and felt like mid-evening to Hooper. As they strode through the crowded lobby of the hospital – he still had no idea which one, adding to his deepening sense of being lost – he looked around for a clock, not wanting to ask the military guys. He didn’t want to feel like he was dependent on them or owed them anything. An old-fashioned analogue clock like you sometimes saw at railway stations hung on the wall over the main entrance.
    9.25 pm.
    Holy shit, he’d been out all day.
    The foyer served as an anteroom to the ER, and business was brisk. Three flat-screen televisions hung from the ceiling, two of them turned to the Shopping Network but one running coverage of the Longreach disaster from CNN Hong Kong of all places. A small group of people were gathered beneath that screen, but it wasn’t the centre of most people’s attention, most likely because none of the news channels had anything new to report. Like Dave, they were out of the loop. Heath kept them moving, not giving Dave a chance to stop and take in the report. As they approached the exit, two other men, both of them bearded and tattooed, both wearing fatigues like Allen, fell in alongside the party, sketching salutes.
    ‘Rest of the team is outside,’ one of the beards told Chief Allen. He regarded Dave with all the respect due a small dog turd on a cocktail fork. ‘A little much for one guy, isn’t it?’
    Allen shook his head. ‘Nope. Trust me, or you can ask Lieutenant Dent if and when he wakes up.’
    Dave didn’t like the sound of that. Neither did the beards by the way their expressions darkened. He looked up at the clock again just to escape the judgment in their eyes.
    Shit.
    ‘I need a phone,’ he said, slowing down, causing the SEALs to bunch up around him. ‘I need to call my wife. Or, you know, ex-wife soon enough. This thing’s been all over the news. She’ll worry. She does that. And my boys . . .’ He trailed off.
    Chief Allen raised an eyebrow at Heath, asking a question silently, and the captain nodded but checked his wristwatch. Just letting Dave know they were still on the clock. Allen reached into another one of his cargo pockets and fished out a cell phone. It looked cheap but new.
    ‘It’s a burner,’ he explained. ‘All set up. With Sprint, sorry. Reception will probably be lousy. But it’s got twenty bucks on it. Good enough?’
    Dave thanked him and took the candy bar phone as they got moving again. It had been a few years since he’d used one, and he remembered how awkward he’d found them. The buttons were so small, and this cheap piece of Chinese crap felt breakable. He was extra careful, but before he could finish entering the number, Captain Heath reached over and laid a hand on his healed forearm. The guy might dress like a desk jockey, but his hands were as hard as any rig monkey’s.
    ‘You only need to tell her that you are alive and well,’ he said. ‘Tell her you’re going to be busy helping out. It won’t be a lie.’
    Dave bristled at being told what to do, but he reminded himself that these guys had sprung him out of the hospital, promised to answer his questions, and bought him some new threads. Plus, he’d put their friend, that Dent guy, on the operating table. Still, Dave Hooper did not like being told what to do. He resisted the urge to give this asshole the brush-off, worried he might send him flying through a plate glass window.
    He didn’t need to go breaking any more navy guys if he could help it.
    ‘I just want to let my boys know I’m all right,’ he said. ‘I should have done it before now. Soon as I woke up. I’m not much of a dad, I know that. But I’m the only one they’ve got, the poor little bastards.’
    ‘Fine,’ Heath said as though conceding a minor debating point. ‘But keep it brief. And simple.’
    The sliding doors rumbled apart as they approached the exit, and for the first time in many hours Dave caught a breath of fresh air.