When Stars Align

Meeting the rival.

After escaping from the police car, Gabriel ran till he couldn’t run anymore. The pain in his shoulder had increased but it wasn’t unbearable, he’d endured far worse pain than this. He had the scars to show for it. But, he’d never been shot before and now his left hand was throbbing, his thumb was swollen and had turned a nasty shade of purple. The whole left side of his arm was now useless, it hurt too much to use them for anything.

The bullet was still lodged in his shoulder, if he didn’t get it out soon and get it treated; it would get infected. Getting admitted for a bullet wound was out of the question, the police would certainly be called if he were to step in a hospital to get it treated. He’ll have to get the bullet out himself in a quiet place but how the hell do you treat a bullet wound? He had no experience in that department. Good thing he wasn’t left-handed, he would have to get by with just his right hand for now.

Several cars drove past him but hardly a single taxi drove by, it was late and most people were probably trying to get home now. He had to get out of this vicinity, it wouldn’t take long for the police to catch up to him at the rate he was going. None of the cars driving past would stop for him, he was certain. He looked a mess, his grey shirt was bloody, the entire top part of it was soaked with blood and he was sweating profusely. He certainly looked like someone that just escaped from a crime scene.

A taxi drove by and he waved at it for it to stop, it didn’t. “Damn it!” How the hell was he supposed to get out of here with the police on his tail when no damn car would stop. Another taxi drove by, this one was occupied. He hissed in frustration. Things were definitely not like this in Lagos, he would’ve boarded a danfo bus by now if he had been back in Nigeria and the passengers would look the other way at his appearance. These white people were just so f*****g complicated. He wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for that godforsaken Lorenzo.

He would probably be back at his hotel by now, celebrating the night in bed with Amanda. Amanda. He’d forgotten about her, she was probably in a world of pain right now and it was all his fault. He had to go see her, take her back home with him and he knew just which hospital she’d be in. Hotel Dieu is the closest hospital to the Seine and that’s definitely where she would be.

A taxi drove by and he waved wildly with his hand to get the driver’s attention. He stopped and Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief, he got in the car and told the driver to take him to Hotel-Dieu hospital. All through the ride there, the driver kept casting him sceptical glances through the rearview mirror, he supposed the cuff he still had on looked suspicious.

The car parked in front of the hospital and he couldn’t get out fast enough. He took out his wallet from his jean pocket and paid the driver who peeled away from the curb immediately his fingers touched his fee. Getting into the hospital and finding Amanda wasn’t hard, she had been taken to the emergency ward and he had an injury, all he had to do was register at the reception under a false name and he had used that opportunity to check through the list for her name– which he found.

He searched the emergency ward in a frenzy, checking every room, every curtain but making sure not to draw any of the nurses’ attention. He was starting to feel faint, his body heavy, his breath coming out in pants. He turned just in time to see her being wheeled into a room on his left. A strange white man walked in with her, he looked oddly familiar even though he was sure he’d never seen him before. There was something about his eyes; the colour looked familiar, he’d seen them somewhere before and it irked him that he couldn’t remember. He wanted to go in and question the man but a man in a doctor’s coat went into the room and he decided to walk around the hall to pass time till they left.

An old lady sitting on a bench beside him eyed him curiously and he realised the cuff was still dangling from his wrist, drawing attention. He had to get the damn thing off. He searched around till he saw a sign that had the symbol of a man on a door. The words were written in French just like every bloody thing he’d seen so far, like the damn people didn’t know an iota of English.

He entered the washroom and with the help of a bar of soap available on the sink, he soaped his hand and the cuff slipped off easily, falling into the sink with a clunk. He locked the door, took off his shirt and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The wound looked horrible, the skin surrounding the wound was slightly purple and puckered, it looked just as bad as it felt. The bullet wasn’t lodged deep in his skin, with the right instrument he could pull it out.

He remembered a ballpoint pen Amanda had brought him as a souvenir when they were going into the theatre earlier and brought it out from his wallet. He braced himself against the pain and stuck the pen into the wound to pull out the bullet. Nothing could have prepared him for the pain the act caused and he shouted.

“f**k!” he yelled as the bullet dropped into the sink. He washed the wound and the sticky blood, some of it had dried and took harder scrubbing to wash off his skin.

He wore his shirt back and placed his left hand under the running tap, he felt for the bone that jutted out in his thumb and popped it back into the socket. Fixing the thumb was even more painful than dislocating it in the first place and he blinked furiously to stop from shedding tears. He would not cry like a weakling.

He came out from the washroom and tentatively approached the room Amanda was kept in. He opened the door slightly and peeked into the room, there was no one in. He closed the door behind him and walked to the bed, Amanda layed fast asleep on the bed with right leg in a cast, hanging on a sling in mid air. She looked so peaceful like the angel she truly was. She’s not supposed to be in this condition and it was all his fault. She would probably hate him for getting her involved in all this mess when she wakes up. In their profession, a leg injury was bad but a knee injury meant the end of her career.

“Please forgive me, my love,” he whispered and placed a kiss on her lips, he lingered for a few moment before straightening.

The door opened and he snapped his head up at the intrusion. It was a nurse and she looked alarmed to see him in there, she shouted some words at him in French, he didn’t understand a word of it. Her voice increased when he didn’t answer her and he panicked. She was screaming so loudly, the security were sure to barge in at any moment.

He whipped the gun from his trouser and pointed it at her, that seemed to shut her up fast. She stared at him wide eyed and shaking. He didn’t intend to use it on her, he didn’t even know how. He pushed her aside and ran out the door.

As he rushed down the hall, he stuck the gun back in his jeans and kept his face down. He collided with someone but kept walking, he glanced back and saw the person he just hit still standing at the same spot staring at him. It was the same man with the familiar eyes he’d seen going into Amanda’s room. Their gazes locked before he looked away and continued down the hall.