Part 20. Rubber boots saved his life…

“Lightning has struck him,” said the doctor. “His rubber boots saved his life.”

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In the hazy moonlight, the black form lying in a puddle beneath one of Ye Olde Inn’s windows resembled a giant slug. Morris took a low stance and drew his rifle back, ready to drive its bayonet in for the kill. The lights blinked on, revealing the slug had limbs.
Morris hesitated, and as he did, Alf wrenched the rifle from his hands. “It’s Bert,” he said, sinking to his knees beside his friend.

An oil sheikh detached from the crowd and knelt next to Alf. “I’m a doctor, help me turn him onto his side.”

Because of his size, no two ordinary men could move him. But Alf was no normal man. Alf was England’s reigning bare-knuckle street fighter, a giant among men. He and Bert spared and wrestled almost every day.

“Lightning has struck him,” said the doctor. “His rubber boots saved his life.” He held Bert’s eyelids open and studied his pupils, then counted his pulse from a vein in his neck. 
“The man has a strong heart, and his breathing is fine.” He fished a cell phone into view and stabbed the screen. “We’ll get him into hospital. He’s suffered major burns; the lightning blistered the outer layer of his skin to a crisp. Let’s just hope there’s no damage to his brain.”
*
Bert groaned. The last he remembered was looking through a window into a masquerade party at Ye Olde Inn, spying on his fiancé, Olive. Dressed as Tinkerbell, she was flirting with Robin Hood, confirming his suspicion that she was cheating on him. God knows what happened then. Somebody must have clobbered him from behind with a steamroller.

“Don’t move,” he thought he heard someone say, but couldn’t be sure because his ears fizzed so loud. “There’s been an accident, but you’ll be fine. Can you count how many fingers I’m holding up?”

“Which hand?”

“I’m only holding up one hand.”

“I can see three.”

“Fingers?”

“No, hands.”

Somebody else spoke. “Bert, Bert, are you alright?”

He recognised Olive’s voice and his senses popped into focus. “I am now you’re here. What happened?” He realized he was lying in a puddle with a crowd of people surrounding him. In the distance, he picked up the wail of a police car. “I ain’t done nothing wrong,” he croaked. “Have I, Alf?”

“Take it easy, Bert,” he heard his best friend say. “It’s an ambulance. They’ll get you cleaned up and back on your feet.”

“Not likely. The last I understood, we don’t trust those doctors. Do we, Alf?”
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
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Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
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Image by Roxane from Pixabay