Twenty-eightThey found him drinking soup through a straw in the hospital canteen. As they came through the main entrance, the place became instantly quiet. Those who could manage to, got out. Some were too ill, some had no choice. The air turned to ice.
Jude, hunched over his lunch, sensed the atmosphere change and looked up. The straw fell from his lips as his stomach turned over.
“He seems well, Mr. Pedigrew,” said the first stranger as he settled himself opposite Jude. He smiled.
Jude stared into the man's skull of a face, fascinated by the intricate map work of blue veins that spread over the taut, grey flesh. Appetite gone, Jude pushed away the bowl and dabbed at his lips with a cloth. “What do you want?” He tried to sound brave, but his voice didn't quite manage it.
“We shall com
