There was never a shift working for the London Police force that wasn't tiring, especially now. After the destruction of Iris and Delford, people who still had homes in other areas near London were flocking to what they perceived as the relative safety of the city. At the same time, state security and even military forces were locking things down tight. The borders were getting harder to get in and out of. People were afraid. A few spot riots had flared up. None of them had been too bad yet, but if the fear kept up, they'd come. Violence was creeping back into London, slowly but surely. As always, there were those who were afraid, and those who were taking advantage of that fear. Paul, Tasha and their colleagues were doing their best to stem the tide, but how did you even pretend you could protect people from destruction of the magnitude afflicting the nearby towns?
So it was with heavy footsteps and a sense of relief that Tasha made her way home, despite the fact that the house was dark and quiet. Dark and quiet were things that she could appreciate, in a way. The pall of worry hanging over the place, though... not so much. It was almost as if walking into the place caused the sickness to infiltrate her senses. While logically she knew that not to be the case, she couldn't shake the feeling. It felt wrong here. Infected.
For a moment, Tasha had to stop. It was a strange feeling, almost of deja vu. The sense of darkness, a heavy weight of sickness... but it left as soon as it came. She was just so tired. She needed something to eat too, probably. She made her way to the kitchen, and at the doorway was where the smell hit her. This was real. She could see the trousered leg sticking out from behind the bench, twisted badly. The pool of various liquids, some alcoholic and some quite unsavoury, with broken glass spread throughout. She could see traces of blood.
"Oh god," she murmured. "Oh no..." She rushed forward and dropped to her knees, immediately turning Peter onto his side. She checked his airway, mostly clear. He hadn't drowned in his vomit, but his vitals were terribly weak. There was no way she could save him on her own.
"This is Kemp," she spoke into her radio. "I need an ambulance at 55 Prince Albert Road immediately. My father's had a seizure. It's a brain tumour."
The request was radioed through, and Tasha did what she could to make Peter safe and comfortable, not that he was conscious. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding in her ears. She could feel that her face was drained of colour. When she'd done everything she could for Peter, she went for the phone. The first person she thought to call was Liz. This was Peter. Of course it was Liz.
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Date: 2008-11-30 08:50 am (UTC)From:So it was with heavy footsteps and a sense of relief that Tasha made her way home, despite the fact that the house was dark and quiet. Dark and quiet were things that she could appreciate, in a way. The pall of worry hanging over the place, though... not so much. It was almost as if walking into the place caused the sickness to infiltrate her senses. While logically she knew that not to be the case, she couldn't shake the feeling. It felt wrong here. Infected.
For a moment, Tasha had to stop. It was a strange feeling, almost of deja vu. The sense of darkness, a heavy weight of sickness... but it left as soon as it came. She was just so tired. She needed something to eat too, probably. She made her way to the kitchen, and at the doorway was where the smell hit her. This was real. She could see the trousered leg sticking out from behind the bench, twisted badly. The pool of various liquids, some alcoholic and some quite unsavoury, with broken glass spread throughout. She could see traces of blood.
"Oh god," she murmured. "Oh no..." She rushed forward and dropped to her knees, immediately turning Peter onto his side. She checked his airway, mostly clear. He hadn't drowned in his vomit, but his vitals were terribly weak. There was no way she could save him on her own.
"This is Kemp," she spoke into her radio. "I need an ambulance at 55 Prince Albert Road immediately. My father's had a seizure. It's a brain tumour."
The request was radioed through, and Tasha did what she could to make Peter safe and comfortable, not that he was conscious. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding in her ears. She could feel that her face was drained of colour. When she'd done everything she could for Peter, she went for the phone. The first person she thought to call was Liz. This was Peter. Of course it was Liz.