Chapter 20 Twenty
Twenty cuts from twenty pointed arrows
My heart bleeds twenty thousand sorrows
“I’m ready!” Hannah announced as she walked in through the door of the old house, threw down her hospital gear and picked up the new cloak she had woven for herself.
“Sit down and have a cup of milk and a sandwich first!”
“Yes mum!” she huffed mockingly as she flung herself on the couch and picked up a sandwich. An abandoned newspaper was lying on the coffee table and Mahmoud was busy reading his favorite book. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was, and was too shy to pry into something so personal, but she had a feeling it was either a favorite novel that held significant memories or some kind of poetry or song book. He tended to read when he was trying to make a decision and she wondered whether he was going to ask her not to come with him.
He closed the book slowly, almost reverently, as soon as she’d finished her second sandwich and stood up, pulling his cloak around his shoulders and waiting patiently for her to stand as well. Her worried thoughts immediately lifted, and not just because he wasn’t going to argue; his face was glowing with that familiar comforting expression. She smiled and led the way out into the cold winter night.
… …
Hannah was becoming used to the whispered count that he kept and her gut would twist with anger and guilt every time she heard a new number added to the tally. She looked over to his shaking form as her hands wound the bandage around the large wound. Her days under Malaika’s instruction had taught her to maintain a calm, collected composure and deal with the patient in the most need with a smile. That didn’t mean, of course, that she didn’t feel like vomiting right there on the sidewalk.
The only thing that kept her moving was that the young boy she was bandaging was in a grave condition. She finished tying the wound up quickly and called for Mahmoud who helped her carry the boy back to the hospital while she held his desperate mother’s hand and led her along.
As Hannah listened to Dorothy explaining her initial check-up results to Dr. John her eyes were fixed on the shimmering cloak of the boy in front of her. “Let’s go to the seventh floor, Mat?” she was hesitant to bring it up, but she knew the boy wanted to go in there and visit his grandmother. She knew what it was to have no one left, it must be a hundred times worse to have someone, but not be able to see them.
“I can’t.”
His voice was hard and she walked closer so she could look him in the eye. His hood was hanging over half his face. “Why not, you’re already here?”
“Yes, and I have to go quickly-”
“No one will look for you under this cloak,” she whispered, “And even if someone recognizes you they won’t care…you’ve done enough to erase those silly lies from people’s minds!”
“That’s the problem, Hannah, I’m not sure they’d care to think about it if anyone recognized me.”
“Are you afraid?” she didn’t know why she said it really. She should have known not to take a jab at his pride. Because if the boy was afraid, he had a right, and if he did get caught…hurt, it would not only be her loss, but the loss of all those poor people who he could save in the future.
“Let’s go then,” he whispered and headed off before waiting for her. Hannah was just about to begin lamely trying to convince him that this wasn’t a good idea, especially when she noticed that the stairways and upstairs floors were not nearly as crowded and that some were staring. There would be no need for that, though, Mahmoud was never meant to visit his grandmother.
The ‘flame patterns’, as she liked to call the strange shimmering, burning illusion on the cloak, were nice to watch, like the fire in the common room on a cold day. That was why her mind didn’t register the real flames right away. Mahmoud grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the stairs before him as the seventh floor collapsed above them. They nearly flew down; the boy was now yelling for everyone to evacuate the building immediately, upper floors first.
It was crazy. You didn’t just clear a building full of terminally ill patients. Hannah’s anger suddenly rose as she watched an elderly man being led slowly down the stairs by a rather frantic young nurse. Who attacked a hospital full of people who were already suffering? Even for Death Eaters, it was sick. And she knew it was them, the greenish tinge to the smoke above told it all.
She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and swatted Mahmoud’s hand away. Her right hand inched towards the dreaded object that was held in her pocket, but something bumped into her shoulder preventing her from carrying out her sudden decision. She fell to the floor and came face to face with Malaika. Hannah almost didn’t recognize the nurse, she had a strange, desperate look and she was scrambling up and trying to continue her journey…against the flow of the crowd.
Another explosion came off somewhere on a floor above and Hannah was spurred into action. She picked up Malaika’s sister (who had become a resident of the hospital after being saved from the burning home of her babysitter), grabbed Malaika’s arm and headed for the nearest exit. Mahmoud gave her a curt nod and picked up two of the frightened children from the cancer ward before following them.
By the time they got out the fire had reached the second floor and Malaika was beginning to frighten the young witch with her desperate attempts to get back inside and up to the seventh floor. Hannah kept a firm hold on the nurse’s arm and tried not to look at her little sister’s frightened face. Mahmoud had gone back inside and come out holding an old patient’s hand and carrying another child.
“No one is to approach the building!” a loud voice cut through the chaos as the last floor burst into flame, “There is nothing more you can do.”
Malaika uttered a loud shriek and broke free of Hannah’s hold. She was restrained by some of her colleagues before she could get too close.
“Here,” Mahmoud came up beside Hannah and took the child from her arms, “You go calm your friend.”
She ran towards the other girl and led her back to where Mahmoud was standing, a safe distance away, but Hannah did not know what to say. She had heard one word among the usually calm nurse’s hysterics that chilled her heart: mother. She knew for a fact that there was nothing anyone could say to that. Nothing.
Soon the building began to collapse and the rest of the firemen began to move back. Malaika fell to the ground, suddenly silent. Hannah dropped to her knees and put her arms around the devastated girl in what she hoped was a comforting embrace. It didn’t help that Malaika was taller than her but soon the girl began to cry and Hannah relaxed a little, patting her back gently.
Warmth enveloped her chest before she could register what was going on. A deep, beautiful voice was raised in a heavenly song. She closed her eyes and the warmth flowed through her veins, blocking out every other noise around her.
Hannah realized all at once that Malaika had stopped her violent shaking, that the song was not in English, and that she had heard this voice once before in her life; once when she was half-conscious on the outskirts of a strange muggle town in the middle of nowhere, waiting to die. She looked up at the boy standing beside her and examined the now familiar face with new interest as his mouth opened and closed in song. Malaika’s sister, Millie, had actually been lulled to sleep and Mahmoud’s voice eventually trailed off.
He let himself slide down to a sitting position beside her, Millie’s head rested on his shoulder and his arms still circling her small form protectively. Closing his eyes and drawing a heavy breath the boy spoke again in a shaky whisper:
“Twenty.”
