story part 1

okay, I promised updates on my more recent and, in this case, current writing projects. so, even though this story is in extreme preliminary stages and I'll probably rewrite this opener several times, I'll give you what I've got. but in installments. I have several sections written, so hopefully in the time it takes to release them gradually, I'll have written more and you won't be left hanging. unless I drop the story, of course, but I don't think that's going to happen. I've had a writing subject blank for a period of years now and I'm not about to abandon this sudden creative flow. I have no idea where this plot came from and even less where it's going. feel free to critique.

He had reached the hospital in dangerous time, running two red lights and clipping the bumper of another car while weaving through the stalled traffic in the dusty streets of Marrakesh.  But now that he was here, the adrenaline had run its course, and he sat in his parked Range Rover, one hand tightly gripping the clutch, the other white on the wheel.  Whatever was going on inside, it would keep happening just as doggedly, just as fated, with or without him there.  He was not ready to face whatever reality lay outside the car's fragile box of uncertainty, of waiting.  He stared at the taut knuckle lines of his hand on the steering wheel, and then, in a rush, noticed the abrupt, furious pounding of blood through his wrists, his gut, his temple.  Willing his limbs to obey, he relaxed his hands and raised them to grip the metal supports of the headrest behind his neck.  His breathing became measured.  Face pallid and fingers quivering, he opened the car door and stepped out.