Max tugged his cellphone out of his jacket pocket. His expectations were low. If he could place a 911 call, he could give precise directions to their location and wait with Matthew for help to come, but naturally, there was no cell service. Max weighed his options. The patient was out of imminent danger, but he urgently needed treatment, and until he got it, he needed to stay warm. A blanket – there could be something, some insulating layer, in the heaps of refuse stacked against the walls. Max began picking apart the piles, looking for anything warm, like old burlap sacking or newspapers. He dismantled two stacks of junk that yielded nothing more than broken boards, rusty tin cans and beer empties. He was about to give up when he saw something coloured, a fold of faded red-and-blue fabric
