'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.
As a strong gust of wind blew the gown down the street, like tumbleweed in a Western, Flash leapt into the busy flow of oncoming traffic, not having time to make for a crossing or wait for an appropriate gap. Cars slammed on their breaks, tyres squealed, horns honked in dismay at his outrageous attempt to reach the other side. Weaving in and out of the vehicles and their irate drivers in an attempt to reach the waste disposal centre, he knew there was no point in looking over his shoulder, his vivid imagination could already picture a dozen or so guards closing in, and that in itself was spurring him on to greater deeds. In fact, he was almost at full sprint, and considering his condition, that was the greatest deed of all.
Heart racing, his head thumped, while his legs pounded as he ran straight for the nearest door. A man was just exiting, and had opened the door right at the perfect moment.
"Hey!" shouted the man. "You can't go in there. It's off limits to all but staff."