He lost his chance to run, it was swept out from underneath him by Michael's embrace but even that horror wasn't enough to prepare him for what came next. He was being lowered onto a portable cot and that in itself was fine, because it gave him a blessed rest. Until the uniformed men and women began to strap him down.
Valen cursed, "Gods--no!" and thrashed, pushing at hands and arms that tried to contain him. He flailed but the wickedness in his body and bones hurt him, but the panic rose in his chest and sent his heart racing as if he were fleeing the horrors of the Adversary's domain, with He behind him entirely. Demon-cursed ... gods save me. He felt the walls closing in and the tightness in his chest threatened to send him into oblivion entirely, suffocating him. He couldn't breathe.
"You gatze whores!" he spit but they'd gotten him, and he was bound to the cot entirely while over them they loomed with their tools and trinkets and there was naught Valen could do. The lights burned his eyes and he forced them closed to keep it out. They were talking to him, asking him questions, but their voices turned into a cacophony of noise no better than a chaotic symphony out of Palinur that made no sense. It thundered in his ears.
By the time they reached the hospital, Valen couldn't think at all.