I woke from a deep sleep with a start; one of those sudden, where am I, what day is it awakenings. 7.46 flashed from the corner of the TV and I immediately became orientated. The bed-side lamp threw its light directly onto Akira’s bag. Feck it, I’ve got to get that to lost property before I’m arrested for theft I thought as I made my way to the shower. 

I went down for breakfast, still puzzled and pissed off; a debilitating combination of feelings that were spoiling my New York experience. Or perhaps this was the NY experience? At least I had a story to tell the lads back home. I pictured them all having a good laugh and heard them saying with affection, “Ahh, it could only happen to you Brendan.” 

Outside the crisp air invigorated me. A street sign caught my eye, ‘Madison Avenue.’ I remembered the name from one of my favourite films, ‘Splash.’ The Beautiful mermaid called herself Madison after this sign. Jeez did I fancy her at the time, even with a fishes tail. I smiled at the memory of my youthful infatuation – then made myself get back to reality pronto – I had to get Akira’s bag off my hands. 

I continued onwards, but once again New York’s signage system struck me. A large sign read: ‘Mount Sinai Hospital.’ Eureka – Hospital – HOS-PIT-AL! One word, three syllables. The zombie man’s elusive word had found me.  

Compulsion catapulted me down the avenue. Halfway, I stopped: Was I going mad, having a breakdown? Is this how insanity manifests itself – acting without rationale? I should be going to the lost property department to deposit Akira’s bag so she can reclaim it. Yet I felt compelled to visit the Hospital. 

I composed myself and thought: I’m a man who always acts rationally, why not act instinctively. There’s nothing wrong with instinct, animals act on it all the time I surmised. The city’s talking to me, guiding me towards a conclusion – I decided to follow the signs. 

The building loomed large over Central park. I walked into the reception area, all corporate and swish. Doctors, nurses, people or perhaps they were patients milled around me. 

Feeling conspicuous, I walked with purpose. A sign beckoned again – ER – one of my all time favourite TV shows. Here it pointed to the Emergency Room. I’ll walk past, see if it’s anything like the show, are the staff as good looking as their fictional counterparts? The controlled chaos and gorgeous medics echoed the TV show. A briefcase standing on the reception desk startled me; hairs on the back of my neck began to rise: Was it the Zombie man’s or just a random briefcase?

In the hospital café I sat down with a glass of water; jaded and addled. I wondered if I’d walked into an episode of ‘Lost.’ Or was I the unwitting character of some sick new hidden camera show? 

I scoured the room for cameras – paranoia – another symptom to add to my growing mental list. But then back to reality just in time to hear a familiar voice calling – “BRENDAN!” 

“Come on Brendan, we gotta go say goodbye to Daddy,” said a woman to a young boy, who looked as bemused as me. She sounded  uncannily like Akira.  

I started to fecking follow them. Going outta my head, surely? The woman cradled the boy into her as they walked, occasionally she'd stoop to whisper something in his ear, and I’d stop and pretend to be reading some random poster. Mental. 

They turned into ER, disappearing into a side room. “Can I help you sir?” Asked a smiling nurse. I mumbled, “Mmm, no – I’m fine – I – I’m looking for a friend?” I actually said that. “Do you have a name, I’ll go check on them for you?” I had no real reason to believe she was in the hospital, but I said it anyway, “Akira, her names Akira.” Her reply surprised me, “Oh, OK, take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here. What’s your name?” she asked. Unreal. “I’m Brendan.” Maybe New York’s full of Akira’s I pondered.