by Paul Cude
After blacking out at least twice more, Flash awoke to find that something was clearly going on. He'd been strapped down to whatever was holding him, and just out of the corner of both eyes he could see the two people looking after him, both seated, which he couldn't remember happening before. The ceiling of what he assumed was an aeroplane swam in and out of view, making him think that they might be coming in for a landing.
'If that's the case, then we should be somewhere with access to the dragon domain and the monorail,' he thought drowsily. His hopes were confirmed moments later as the sharp bump of the plane touching down vibrated throughout his whole body. As the plane taxied to the end of the runway, he knew he had to shake off the effects of the poison the naga had inflicted upon him and work out a way to escape back to the underground world. At least there he could be cured of his affliction and warn the king about everything he'd discovered.
Feeling the plane come to a halt, one of the doors opened immediately, letting brilliant sunshine spill in. Lying back, he tried desperately to access the magic dormant within him and listen to the muted conversation that was going on only a few feet away. Try as he might, he wasn't even close to being able to access any of his abilities. The best he could come up with in his fevered state was that the poison seemed to be affecting him on a sub atomic level. Something he hadn't noticed before, but was quite obvious to him now, was the fact that his magical energy reserves were not recharging, which was a worry given his current state. Normally, when a dragon isn't using their magic, or using just a little, the supply would automatically recharge until it reached the maximum capacity that particular being could hold, something unique to each individual dragon. Different dragons have different magical energy capacities, as well as needing to use different amounts of energy to cast the same mantras. Dragons such as Flash had been honed and trained rigorously to enable their bodies to have an even bigger magical energy capacity than most normal dragons, as well as having the fastest recharge rate possible. For his body not to be recharging at all, something had to be seriously wrong. It could only be that the energy that should be recharging was instead warding off the effects of the naga poison. If that were the case, then he was in even graver danger than he'd first thought. He needed to get to a dragon healer and fast. The only problem now were the humans who, at this very moment, were carrying him out of the plane on a stretcher, with a view to operating on his very bad, very superficial, and very self inflicted frostbite.
A nurse carried a drip over him as she ran alongside the fast moving stretcher. Focusing all his concentration, he managed to sweep aside some of the fog that had clouded his brain. Lifting his head a fraction, he could see an ambulance, back doors splayed wide open. Three people climbed in beside him. A very kind nurse mopped his fevered brow, for which he was unbelievably grateful. Only a small kindness, but given exactly how hot he felt, just a moment's relief felt like a lottery win.
Shortly, the ambulance arrived at its destination, with Flash quickly being taken to the emergency room. Hushed conversations nearby sounded urgent, despite the fact that no details could be heard. All of a sudden, a different nurse appeared over him.
"Don't worry son, the doctors are on their way. They're some of the best in the country, and when they get here, I'm sure they'll give it heaps."
Through the fog clouding his mind he started to become concerned, not at the thought of them operating on the frostbite; the mantra itself, he knew, would have created near perfect replicas of frostbitten human fingers. Even if the doctors amputated his fingers, they wouldn't find anything unusual that would lead them to suspect that he wasn't really human. His big worry was that they would use a powerful anaesthetic, one that would only hinder his body's fight with the naga poison, a fight that wasn't going too well at the moment. Bringing his right hand up, he tried to catch the attention of the two nurses standing in the corner. Eventually, one of them came over.
"I need the... toilet," he asked huskily, his throat raw from the cold and everything else that he'd been through.
"I'll get a catheter," replied the nurse politely.
Lifting his head up, Flash shouted after her.
"I think if I can get up, I'll be alright to go by myself."
Both nurses burst into laughter.
"I think you must have a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock, thinking you can go to the toilet on your own. Have you seen the state of your fingers? All of them are seriously frostbitten. And that's before we've even looked at your... wedding tackle."
Shaking her head, she wandered off with the other nurse to find a catheter, leaving Flash needing a new plan to free himself and get back to the dragon domain. Mulling things over something else occurred to him, something he hadn't thought of before.
'I got rid of all the nagas at Casey Station, but what if there are nagas here, disguised as humans?' Knowing he wouldn't find out until it was too late, he had to get out of here, and he had to do it now.
While dragons in general know about most, if not all, of the entrances and exits to their underground world in or around where they live, specialist dragons such as those in the King's or even the Crimson Guards that Flash belonged to, need a much broader scale of information, mainly because they have no idea where exactly their missions will take them. Fortunately for Flash, he was back at the point where he'd started the mission: Perth, Australia, and he was after all, like any good boy scout, always prepared. Assuming that he must have been admitted to the Royal Perth Hospital, as it was the best in the region and one of the best in the country, accessing his near perfect memory, he found it a lot slower and harder to retrieve the information he needed, than it would have been under normal circumstances. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A bare bones, emergency kind of... list! There would in fact have been thousands of entrances to the dragon domain, if not tens of thousands, in and around Perth itself, but he didn't really think he could start breaking into houses on the off chance that they were dragons, asking to borrow their secret entrance. Standing out in his head, the list included the Swan Bell Tower. Built for the millennium, it stood 268 feet high and was home to twelve bells from the historic St Martin-in-the-Fields church in London, together with six new bells. The entrance here, he noted, was in one of the visitors' toilet cubicles. By pressing a certain sequence of tiles on the wall in the cubicle and then flushing it while sitting down, the toilet would flick the occupant over upon themself, through a gap in the wall behind that would appear for a very short time, and onto a steep, spiral slide, that eventually enters the dragon domain, deep beneath Perth.
Also on the list was the Old Perth Observatory, a stunning historic building dating back to the late 19th century, incorporating impressive architecture and fantastic period features, on which this particular entrance was dependant. To use this death defying drop entrance, a dragon first had to make their way around to the very back of the building, where a series of beautiful flower beds run around the building, below and adjacent to the outside walkway that skirts around it. One of the features of the walkways is the intricately carved handrails and spindles that run below them. To activate the entrance, a dragon must stand at a particular point between two of the flower beds, facing the walkway. With the spindles now at chest height, and preferably with no one looking, two of the spindles, three apart, need to be yanked back as hard as possible. All three of the spindles are sprung loaded, and leap back into place immediately. They do, however, need a lot of force to make them work. Once done, a small covering of grass disappears momentarily, just enough time for a human shape to disappear beneath the surface, with gravity playing a pivotal part in the whole equation.
Other entrances on the list include Perth zoo, only five minutes from the city centre and the Perth Mint, established in 1899, and Australia's oldest mint still in operation today.
Plumping for the closest, only half a mile away from where he currently lay, at least that's what he assumed, letting his head be enveloped by the
soft, squishy pillow that had delicately been placed under his head by one of the nurses, he tried to recall every part of his journey on the stretcher since he'd left the ambulance. Images of a reception, patients sitting hunched on chairs waiting to be seen by incredibly busy doctors, brightly lit corridors and a quick trip in an expansive lift all swam by in an instant. Now sure that the room he lay in was in the south block of Perth hospital, adjacent to Wellington Street, catching his breath, sweat running down the side of his head, he knew the entrance he needed was so close he could almost smell the dragon poo from where he was. It was going to be tricky, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and just hopefully a contingent of King's Guards could sort out the mess after he got back and revealed the information he carried to the king.
After another prolonged attack on his back, Flash noticed that neither of the nurses had returned from rushing off to find him a catheter. Part of him was truly thankful for this. While he was a dragon and always would be, whatever form he took as a disguise, he still managed to feel very much how he assumed a human would feel in these situations. The very thought of a nurse inserting equipment... there... made him feel embarrassed, scared, ashamed, and yet it shouldn't have bothered him. After all, it wasn't really his body, was it? It was just pretend, or at least it should have been, but it never really worked like that, no matter how hard he tried.
Gingerly sitting up for the first time in many hours, he wiped the sweat from his brow. After only a few seconds, the dizziness that he'd felt vanished. And then it hit him... he was actually starting to feel better. Not better as in all of his dragon abilities had returned, but just... better. Inside, he could just make out the tiniest sliver of magic, waiting to be cast. His fever felt as if it was about to break, and he felt as though he could probably get off the raised bed, without any help.
'If I could use that little bit of magic to reverse the frostbite mantra, then just maybe I could walk to the entrance, plain and simple,' he thought, looking around to make sure no one else was lurking anywhere in the big, sterile room. With the room clear, he closed his eyes and with his mind, delved deep inside the human shell he currently found himself in. Marvelling at the complexity of the mantra that held his DNA together, he soon found cause for concern, stumbling onto the true extent to which the naga's poison had ravaged the body which at the moment he called his. From what he could tell, the poison was slowly attacking his DNA, changing it, damaging it and if left for much longer, probably destroying it.
Pure determination and will took over. Banishing any thoughts of failure, he found the words in his mind to reverse the frostbite mantra, and putting as much belief behind them as he could in his worn down state, he whispered them under his breath. A sharp prickling sensation overwhelmed his extremities briefly, and then it was done. Looking down at his hands, he found them... soft, smooth, nicely pink, almost brand new. Pulling his legs out from under the rough covers, he slung them over the side and dropped to the floor. His newly reformed feet felt cold on the mezzanine floor, and while he didn't exactly feel fantastic, he felt better than he had in a while, better than he'd felt since he'd been poisoned by that damn naga.
'Anyway,' he mused, 'no time to dwell on previous events. I have to leave as quickly and quietly as possible.' Checking the room for anything to wear, typically he found nothing. Remaining in his thermal base layers, a black skin tight top that had been cut off with a pair of scissors around the elbows, and black skin tight leggings that again had been cut off just below the knees, he looked like a ninja that had been in a fight with a combine harvester.
'Not inconspicuous at all,' he thought, allowing himself a brief smile. Sneaking a peek through the tiny panes of glass in the heavy wooden, double doors, he couldn't see a single person. Knowing that if he was caught now, the game would be up and that he would almost certainly be detained by a huge number of medical staff, all wanting answers he couldn't provide, opening the door as far as he dare, he moved as fast as he could along the corridor, on the lookout for any sort of disguise. Suddenly, he heard voices from close by. Instinctively, he dived under one of the queue of unused beds that littered the wide corridor.
"Anyway, today's supposed to be another scorcher."
"Great, and here we are, stuck on theatre duty."
"Well, I for one can do without seeing anybody kark it today."
"Let's go see if we can prevent that, shall we?"
The two doctors, at least Flash assumed that's what they were, wandered down the corridor in the direction that he'd come from, their voices trailing off as they did so. Checking for any legs heading in his direction, he jumped out from under the bed and slipped into the room the doctors had come out of. Pumping his fist in triumph, he'd stumbled across a changing room, clearly used by the medical staff about to go into surgery; there were lockers, gowns, masks and special sandals all the surgical staff wore. It was a positive treasure trove. In under thirty seconds he was kitted up in a green gown, a mask around his forehead, sandals on his feet, and a stethoscope for good measure that he'd found on top of one of the lockers drooped around his neck. Knowing that time was of the essence, he exited the changing room at a quick walk, heading away from the theatre and back to what he assumed was the main through route of the hospital. In his mind's eye he could see a very rudimentary map of its layout. Reaching the waste disposal area, which was located on Moore Street, a stone's throw from McIver train station, was his goal. The map inside his head told him he needed to get from the south block to the north block, which he could do on foot, via either Lord Walk, or Victoria Walk. His disguise should certainly hold until he got to the north block; after that, well... he wasn't so sure. He'd have to exit the northern precinct, head up Moore Street, and then cross it, quite a busy road at the quietest of times, and then reach the waste disposal centre. Dressed as a surgeon, he might stick out like a sore thumb for the last part of the journey, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
Strolling purposefully into one of the main corridors, he was relieved to see everything clearly and concisely signposted. Following the signs for the northern precinct, he tried desperately not to look as though he was unsure of where he was going. As he approached the Victoria Walkway on level 3, that would take him across Wellington Street and into the northern precinct, some sort of commotion broke out back in the direction that he'd come from. Still trying to look self assured, he stepped onto the walkway and glimpsed down at the traffic below him. On glancing back up, he spotted a big, burly security guard heading down the narrow, jam packed corridor towards him at full tilt. Within ten yards of him there were two beds with patients being pushed, as well as someone in a wheelchair, three nurses, two elderly couples and a porter. This was the very last place to make a stand and fight. Also, despite feeling better than he had, he was pretty sure he wouldn't last long in the fighting department, against anybody. That and the fact that he was also out of tricks made him truly fearful of what was going to happen next. With the two nurses and the porter having moved swiftly aside, the guard was nearly upon him. From the look of the size and determination of the guard, he knew instantly that he didn't stand a chance. Deciding not to make a stand, as this really wasn't the place for it, too many innocent people would get hurt, he opted to find another way to get the information to the king. Offering up his best smile, he put his arms harmlessly by his sides, opened palmed, and gave up. On doing all of this, he realised just an instant too late that the guard had no intention of stopping, and was going to take him down the hard way. Closing his eyes, he braced for the oncoming impact. At the last instant, the guard altered his course, keeping up the same breakneck speed, catching Flash a glancing blow on the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Sitting up on the cold, hard floor, he looked over his painful shoulder to see the guard continuing on his run at top speed.
"Sorry... emergency," shouted the guard back over his shoulder, puffing frantically.
Shaking his head in wonder, he got
to his feet.
'What are the chances...?' he wondered, as one of the nurses came to see if he was alright. Nodding to all the patients and staff, desperate not to attract any unwarranted attention and without looking at what commotion the guard was running towards, despite wanting to, he pressed on towards the northern precinct, finding himself there in only a matter of moments. Skirting into the nearest stairwell, he knew he had to hurry. Part of him was convinced the commotion was all about him being missing and that it wouldn't take long for the guard to realise he was who they were looking for, once the nurses dished out his description.
Dashing down the stairs with as much speed as he could summon, he raced towards the nearest exit, having ditched the mask and stethoscope behind him. Casually, he walked past the nearest reception desk, and through the sliding glass doors, which parted neatly at his approach. Inside, he felt dizzy and confused, but knew he couldn't let on, not here of all places. It would attract attention, with no doubt a hundred well intentioned nurses just waiting for him to show any kind of symptoms and escort him back into the hospital. Willing each foot to plod ever forward, he drew in a deep breath of cool, fresh air and tried to figure out where exactly he was. To his right was a huge car park that exited into a main road. Hoping to hell that the main road was Moore Street, he crossed the car park, every now and then peeking back over his shoulder. As he got closer, he could see a sign about halfway up one of the buildings. It read Moore Street. Buoyed by the thought that he was nearly there, another quick glance over his shoulder told him that it wasn't going to be quite that easy. Outside the hospital entrance, a young woman was pointing in his direction, while talking animatedly to a group of guards. Ripping off the surgeon's gown, and kicking off the sandals, he hoped that being in just his torn thermal base layers might buy him a few valuable seconds.
