Up ahead, two uniformed officers stood in their fluorescent yellow jackets. They recognised Detective Cox when he approached them.
“Everything been okay here?”
The larger of the two officers nodded. “So far so good. Haven’t seen anything alarming. The staff here have all been asked to watch out for anyone suspicious.”
“Good,” said Chris. “We’ll take it from here.”
The two police officers nodded and left them to it. Chris decided to get himself set up with a coffee before he got to work. “You want a drink, Marsh?”
Marsh glanced at him. His eyes were red and bulging. His nose was running. “Yeah, cheers. Get us a tea; white, two sugars.”
“Coming right up.” Chris headed off to the small coffee shop that served the station. There was no one else inside except for an acne-ridden barista. He placed his order, stood and waited. A radio hissed away from a nearby counter.
Reports…mass sickness…Southampton General…police cordon…
Chris shook his head. Things were obviously no better. His radio had remained silent for the last hour and he knew that it was likely because everyone was so busy. Nobody had time to check in with anybody else.
Hopefully whatever it is has been contained to the hospital. If this thing spreads then the terrorists will have giant smiles on their goat faces.
Chris had lost a distant cousin in the 9/11 attacks. He could not claim any great loss, but the loss of a family member – however distant – gave him a connection to the atrocity that perhaps others in the UK did not have. To them it had been a horror movie unfolding on the news. For him it had been real. Punishing evil people for their torment of others had been his driving force ever since. Drug dealers, abusive husbands…nothing was too big or small to elicit his concern. His role in life was to stop the bad guys, but right now it seemed like they had scored a victory. It made Chris feel sick.
The barista came back with his order. He paid the young man and asked him a question. “Has anybody called in sick today?”
“Nope. We don’t need many staff on during the week. Just me and the manager at the moment. He’s in the back.”
Chris nodded. “Okay, just wondering. Thanks.” He took the hot beverages and headed back to where he’d left Marsh standing. His partner was still in the same position, but he was slouched like a bag of potatoes, letting all his weight hang downwards.
“Marsh!”
His partner did not reply.
“Hey, Marsh. Get your head in the game, man.”
Still no reply. Chris huffed and stepped around in front of him. He didn’t expect to see what he did.
“You’re bleeding.”
Marsh snapped out of his daze and looked at Chris. His nose was leaking blood all the way down onto the tip of his chin. “W…what you talking about?”
“Your nose! Here…” Chris pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his partner’s nose. The blood was coming thick and fast.
Marsh crumpled at the knees. Chris tried to hold him up but was only able to ease him to the ground slowly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Marsh wasn’t responding. His body was rigid and he was going into some sort of seizure. Chris placed his hands gently behind his partner’s head and cried out for assistance. A moment later, the barista from the coffee shop and several nearby commuters had come to help.
Chris shouted at them as they stood around gawping. “Call an ambulance.”
One of the passengers took out their phone and begun dialling. The coffee shop employee dropped down onto his knees beside Chris and went to grab a hold of Marsh’s flailing body.
Chris shot out his hand. “No! Don’t restrict him. Just let the seizure end on its own.”
The young barista stared down at Chris’s hand clamped around his wrist. The stained handkerchief was scrunched between his fingers and blood had smeared all over his forearm. “Dude! You got blood on me.”