After he finished speaking to the policewoman, the paramedic told Luke he was taking Ken to the hospital.
‘He’s fine. We just need to observe him in case there are any complications coming from breathing in all that smoke.’
‘That’s a thing? That happens?’
‘Absolutely,’ the medic answered. ‘The wee fella’s absolutely fine, but we should probably admit him for the night as well. We can take you all across to the Queen Elizabeth in this ambulance…’
‘Okay,’ Luke replied, and held a hand out for Jenna. ‘Let’s go.’
*
Once over at the hospital, Luke and Jenna saw to it that Ken and Nathan were comfortable before seeking out Jamie. They were directed to his room by a nurse, and with a mind roiling with uncertainty Luke entered. The young man stretched out on that bed, propped up by a small hill of pillows, had set his house on fire, but had then rescued Nathan and Ken. How was he supposed to assimilate all that?
Jamie stirred when he saw Luke, tried to push himself up, but the activity set off a paroxysm of coughing.
When it stopped, sweat was beading on his forehead, and the pulse reading on the small screen by the bed shot up.
‘Hey,’ Luke said as he moved closer. ‘You need to relax.’
‘Nathan okay?’ Jamie managed to ask. His voice little more than a squeak, his eyes stark with worry.
‘He’s absolutely fine. Saying you’re his hero.’
‘He is?’ Much of the worry seeped from Jamie’s expression, and he fell back onto the pillows. He closed his eyes. Tears leaked out. ‘Sorry. So sorry,’ he said. ‘I could never forgive … if…’ He started coughing again. When it stopped he held a hand out to Luke, his eyes beseeching, begging Luke’s forgiveness.
Luke accepted the hand, held it tight. Felt the weakness there.
‘So sorry,’ Jamie replied. ‘For everything.’ This set off another fit of coughing. Luke was alarmed at how much pain the young man appeared to be in.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Let’s get you better, eh?’
Jamie turned his head away. ‘I don’t deserve…’
‘Hey,’ Luke said. ‘Don’t say that.’
His mind crowded with all the things he wanted to say. This young man never had a chance. Any promise he had as an individual had been distorted by all the adults in his life. Everyone in a position to help him had done the opposite. It’s not too late, he wanted to say. We’ll get you better. Sort you out.
‘All I want,’ Jamie said. ‘A friend.’ He coughed. ‘You … the closest … and what do I do?’ The light in his eyes had dimmed with self-loathing, his face was cloaked in cobwebs of self-recrimination.
His head sagged to the side, his mouth dropped open, the machine at his side emitted a loud warning. Then Jamie’s legs started to shake violently.
‘Nurse,’ Luke shouted. ‘Nurse.’
A group of them charged into the room, pushing a cart. One of them pulled Luke to the side and guided him out of the room.
‘Let the team work,’ the nurse said.
‘But…’ Luke stretched, trying to see past all the bodies working around and on Jamie. ‘Will he be okay?’ he asked.
‘He’s in the best possible hands,’ the nurse said. ‘If you just wait out here?’
They closed the door behind them.
Luke paced in the corridor. Several times he held his head to the door, trying to hear what was going on beyond, but he could make out nothing from the muffled sounds that leaked out.
Finally, one of the team opened the door and stepped outside. As she pulled off her face mask, her eyes were dropping with apology. She was speaking. Syllables floated towards Luke and past his head.
‘But he was fine,’ Luke said, finding it impossible to believe what she was saying. ‘He was coughing, aye, but he was sitting up in bed. He was fine.’
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she said, her disappointment palpable. ‘It’s frighteningly common with smoke inhalation. It puts the lungs, and then the heart, under a huge amount of stress.’ She paused. ‘We couldn’t save your friend. I’m so sorry.’