Rhys was reading a Dean Koontz novel. He’d read all of Dean Koontz’s novels, and still kept them in the flat, even though he wasn’t likely to read them again. Gwen had tried to read one, once, just to please Rhys, but she couldn’t get past the first paragraph. At the time she’d thought the horror-based plots in which innocent people were menaced by dark forces beyond their comprehension too outlandish for words.
Now she thought them too tame. Funny thing, life.
She’d texted Jack with an update on the situation, and she hoped that they’d be out scouring Cardiff for Lucy. Looking around, she couldn’t help but notice that most of the people in Outpatients didn’t look as if they were injured. Rhys was definitely the person there with the most blood on him. A few were sneezing, and one woman had a rash of small red spots across her arms and face. There was one guy with his arm in a makeshift sling, and another with a bloody cut above his eye. No small children with their heads stuck in saucepans, which was a shame. Considering it was such a cliche, Gwen didn’t think she’d ever seen it.
No drunks, either. It was still too early in the evening for that. Come midnight and the place would reek of beer and sweat. People would be slumped against walls and lying on the stained carpet tiles.
Beside her, Rhys was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, tea towel still held to his cheek. It was maroon all over now, and sopping wet with the condensation from the pack of frozen peas.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked for the hundredth time. She wished she could think of something more original, something sensitive and caring, but that was all that came to mind.
‘Like a bit of an idiot, actually,’ Rhys replied. His eyes were still closed. ‘I’m going to have to make up some kind of story for work. I can’t possibly admit that Lucy bit me. The jokes will never end.’
‘You can’t say that I bit you either. Nobody gives a love bite that big. And not on the cheek.’
He frowned. ‘I read somewhere that there are more bacteria in the mouth than anywhere else in the human body. Is that true? Could I get infected just by being bitten?’
‘If we ever get to see a doctor, we can ask him. But seriously, I think they’ll give you an antibiotic shot. When I used to have to break-up fights and stuff in the police, there’d be lots of guys whose teeth had cut the inside of their cheeks when they’d been punched. The paramedics would always give them antibiotics in case the bacteria inside their mouths got into the wounds and started up an infection.’
‘Not friendly bacteria, then,’ Rhys said.
‘I don’t think there’s any such thing as friendly bacteria. Some of them might be relatively indifferent, but I don’t think they could reasonably be described as friendly.’
‘Rhys Williams?’ The nurse standing by the desk was looking around.
Rhys’s hand shot up. ‘Here.’
‘This way, please.’
Gwen went with him to a small, curtained alcove where Rhys sat on a bed while a doctor examined him. She was younger than both Rhys and Gwen, and looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.
‘How did this happen, then?’ she asked as Rhys pulled the tea towel away from his face. She looked over at Gwen. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘Rugby practice,’ Rhys said firmly.
Gwen raised her eyebrows at the doctor, expecting her to take a look at Rhys’s flabby physique and say something sarcastic, but she just looked him up and down and nodded. Surprised, Gwen glanced over at Rhys’s stomach. It might have been her imagination, but it was looking flatter than she remembered. Maybe it was just the way the material of his T-shirt was plastered against the skin by the drying blood, but she could almost see some muscle definition. Was he going to a gym or something?
‘I thought you rugby players wore gum shields,’ the doctor said as she cleaned the wound with a pad of cotton wool. She kept dabbing the cotton wool in a kidney dish filled with something antiseptic. Thin strings of bloody liquid began to swirl around in the dish, forming shapes that came together and apart.
‘They fall out.’ Rhys winced as she patted the wound. The tooth-marks were livid against white skin now. ‘By the time the training ends the ground is littered with gum shields. We have to send a boy out to collect them up at the end of the session. We pay him ten pence a set.’
‘Right. I’m going to give you an anti-tetanus shot,’ the doctor said, as if she hadn’t been listening. ‘And then put a dressing on the wound. I’ll also prescribe a course of antibiotics, just in case. It’s a pretty clean wound, and it should heal within a couple of weeks.’
‘What about stitches?’ Rhys asked.
‘Not necessary. Go see your doctor in a week, just to check that everything’s OK. If there’s any swelling, or if the area gets tender to the touch, go and see them sooner.’
When they got outside, it was dark. A handful of people were hanging around near where the ambulances stopped. Rhys and Gwen paused for a moment, letting the fresh air wipe the tang of the antiseptic from their nostrils.
‘I’d suggest going and getting a meal somewhere,’ Rhys said. He indicated his bloody T-shirt. ‘But they’d probably throw me straight out again.’
‘We could get a takeaway,’ Gwen said.
Rhys shook his head. He looked away, awkwardly. ‘I don’t really want to go back to the flat. Not now. Not straight away.’
‘There’s got to be somewhere still open where I can get you a shirt.’ Gwen thought for a moment. ‘Department stores will be closed. Asda will still be open.’
‘Asda.’ Rhys winced. ‘Hardly my style.’
‘Hey, you want dinner or not?’
He shrugged. ‘All right. But you’re going to have to go in and buy the stuff. I’ll loiter outside, scaring small children.’
‘OK. Extra-large?’
‘Actually…’ He paused. ‘I think just Large will do.’
‘Rhys, this is the kind of thing you should be saying to me but never do, but, are you losing weight?’
He shrugged, embarrassed. ‘A little.’
‘How?’
‘Cutting out carbohydrates. Cutting down on the drinking. More walking.’
‘Rugby practice, obviously.’
‘Did you like that? I thought it was quite inventive.’ A pause. ‘And Lucy recommended some tablets she’d been taking,’ he said, offhandedly. ‘They worked on her.’
‘Yes, we should obviously let Lucy be our role model on things involving food.’
‘Ouch. Point taken.’ He shook his head. ‘This still feels like a dream to me. It’s all moving too fast. I can’t take it in.’
‘Part of that’s the shock. It’ll pass. Tell you what — let’s get a hotel room for tonight. A treat for the both of us. We can go back to the flat tomorrow. It’s Sunday, so that still gives us a day to recover before you go back to work — assuming you’re fit.’
‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.’
It would also, Gwen thought, give the rest of the Torchwood team time to investigate. There might be some clues back at the flat they needed to look for, something that might say where Lucy had gone. And, of course, the last thing she wanted was for her and Rhys to go back to the flat, fall asleep, and then wake up with Lucy bending over them, madness in her eyes, poised to rip their throats out.
Threesomes like
‘What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?’
Owen laughed. The flagstones were cold beneath his crossed legs, and his vertebrae were grinding against the armoured glass behind him, yet he felt strangely comfortable. ‘I sometimes ask myself the same question. I thought I’d be well on my way to being a surgeon by now.’
Marianne was sitting with her back against the glass in her cell, mirror image to his position. Their heads were separated by just a few inches of space. He could almost feel the heat from her body through the glass. Almost.
