Day 223

[from A Thousand Miles to San Francisco]

[AUTHOR NOTES: This is one of the most critical scenes in the entire novel. I want to get across the chaos and confusion that ensues after such a tragic event. Someday, if it's possible, I want to travel to Aurora and interview those who survived the shooting, as well as their loved ones, so I can get a sense of what it was truly like for them in the aftermath of the shooting. For now, this is merely my best guess.]

As luck would have it, Dawn was indeed being treated at the Medical Centre of Aurora, at its main campus on South Potomac Street. From what the operator had said, Samantha guessed that her friend was still alive, but she felt that she had to make sure. She hurried out into the driveway and got into her car, a blue 2004 Ford Focus. The roads were always fairly busy on Friday mornings, and it would probably be even worse today given what had happened, but Samantha was not concerned about this. All she was concerned about was Dawn, and whether she was okay.

It took Samantha about half an hour to drive to the hospital, with the traffic becoming worse and worse the closer she got. After all, she couldn't have been the only one who was headed to the hospital in search of their loved ones. Mercifully, there were still a few parking spaces available, and Samantha quickly pulled into the nearest one she could find. Her parking wasn't exactly straight, but again, she was not concerned about this. She had bigger things on her mind than parking etiquette.

Samantha got out of the car and hurried to the entrance, whereupon she found that the queue for the reception desk had been split into two. Presumably, one line was for those who were actually sick, and the other was for those who were only here to visit. Most of the chairs in the waiting area were also occupied. Samantha saw a man sitting there with his arm in a bloodied sling, and wondered whether he had been one of the victims of the shooting. Sitting nearby, she saw a woman, still wearing her dressing gown, sobbing uncontrollably as an orderly tried in vain to console her. It was a horrifying, morbid scene, one that Samantha had only ever seen in news footage before, and one that she had never expected to experience in real life.

Her solemn reflection was suddenly interrupted by a female nurse approaching her. "Excuse me," she asked. "Are you here to visit a casualty, or are you here for an emergency appointment?"

"I'm here to visit my friend," said Samantha. "She was, uhh… you know… in the…" Samantha found herself unable to say it, and her voice trailed off.

"It's okay," said the nurse, giving her a gentle hug. "If you'd please like to go into this queue here, okay? Just to speed things up a bit for everyone."

Samantha nodded, and allowed the nurse to shepherd her into the longer of the two queues. She then found herself waiting for almost an hour, a wait that seemed both interminable and unbearable. At one stage, an elderly man, perhaps a grandfather, was suddenly led away from the front of the queue as he began to weep and moan with sorrow, having no doubt received the worst possible news. This only intensified the dread within Samantha's own heart, and the wait became all the more agonizing.

Finally, she was at the front of the queue, faced with a nurse who looked like she was trying her best to force a smile but was finding it increasingly hard to. Samantha couldn't really blame her, given the sombre atmosphere in the hospital, and the sheer volume of visitors. "Good morning," said the receptionist. "Who are you here to see?"

Samantha's voice caught in her throat for a moment before she responded. "Dawn… Dawn Harvey. I heard she was brought in this morning after the…?"

The receptionist nodded, typing Dawn's name into her computer. "Let's see… ah, yes. She was admitted several hours ago. She's in a stable condition, and should make a full recovery."

Samantha breathed a heavy sigh of relief, feeling her worries evaporate. "Thank goodness… where is she?"

***

After several minutes of walking through corridors, Samantha found herself in a large ward containing over a dozen beds. She made her way through, glancing at each patient in turn as she passed them, checking to see if they were Dawn. Finally, she located her friend near the centre of the ward.

Dawn was lying awake in her hospital bed, and although her face was partly hidden by her phone, held in her right hand, Samantha could see that she was in some discomfort. The source of this pain was immediately and shockingly clear: a bandaged wound on her shoulder that was no doubt the work of the shooter. It had been wrapped neatly in bandages, but the blood had soaked through them, even staining the sheets and pillow slightly as well. Absorbed by whatever was on her phone screen, and no doubt distracted by her pain, Dawn had not noticed her friend's arrival.

The whole ward suddenly seemed deafeningly silent to Samantha, save for the relentless, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor at Dawn's bedside, telling her that her friend was still alive. Even Samantha's own footsteps seemed to fall silent as she slowly approached the cubicle. Dawn seemed to have heard the footsteps, however, for she suddenly looked up from her phone, looking mildly surprised. "Samantha," she said, putting down her phone. "What are you doing here?"

Samantha felt a sudden, immeasurable relief at hearing Samantha's voice again. It was the final, ultimate proof that her friend really was going to be alright. She rushed to her friend's side and give her a tight hug. "I'm visiting my best friend," she said.