portion of the right pectoralis major,â someone was saying rapidly. âSome involvement of the deltoid. Patient complained of head pain earlier.â
âHe was conscious? Responsive?â
âAt the scene, yes. He passed out when we carried him to the ambulance. After administering Ringerâsâ¦BP holding steady. Pulseâ¦â
The voices were fading in and out. My head ached and my shoulder was one huge, monstrous throb, but I didnât feel as sick and dizzy as I had before. Weak, though. And tired. It was hard to pay attention, tempting to let myself drift off again. But if I did, other people would be making the decisions for me. I didnât like that.
âYou didnât use a neck brace.â That was a prissy male voice. âThe neck is to be supported in all vehicular accidents.â
âHe crawled more than fifty yards up a mountain,â Pete retorted. âI donât think his neck is broken.â
âCome onâget him on the table.â
That meant they were going to move me again. I blinked gummy lids and was immediately blinded by the overhead light. âWhereâ¦â The oxygen mask muffled my voice. I turned my head and tried to dislodge it.
âMr. McClain.â A manâs face hovered over mine briefly, haloed by the too-bright light. I couldnât make out his features. âIâm Dr. Meckle. Youâve been in an accident, and youâre at the emergency room.â
Well, dammit, I knew that. âGet this off me,â I said, but even to me the words were unintelligible.
âYou must be still. Weâre going to move you now.â
They did. I had to pay attention to my breathing again. While I was working on that, the prissy doctor was tossing out orders like General Sherman reviewing the troops. âGet his clothes cut off. Draw some blood and get it typed and cross-matched. Aguilar, is this the only wound you found?â
âYes, sir.â
âDoesnât add up,â he muttered. âThis dressing is almost clean.â
Someone jabbed my good arm with a needle and I realized that it wasnât strapped down anymore. Good. As soon as she pulled the needle out, I reached up and shoved the oxygen mask down. âWhere is she? The woman. Paramedic.â
âThe paramedics who brought you in are both men,â the doctor said. There was something irritating about his voice. And familiar. âNow, sir, please cooperate. Youâve lost a good deal of blood. You arenât thinking clearly.â
Pete spoke up. âI think heâs talking about the woman who found him. The officer at the scene was going to send her here. Exposure or something like that.â
âWhat? Whatâs wrong with her?â I needed to sit up.
âAguilar,â the doctor snapped, planting a hand firmly on my good shoulder, âif youâre determined to clutter up my examination room, at least do so silently. Mr. McClain, I will promise to check on this mystery woman once Iâm satisfied with your condition. Be still .â
I subsided, unable to do much else. What had happened to her? Exposureâ¦had she put her coat over me, and suffered for it? I couldnât remember. The officer at the sceneâ¦oh, God. Duncan. Duncan worked nights. He would hear about my accident on the police radio, and think I was dead or something. âI needââ
âWhat you need, Mr. McClain, is medical attention. Which I am attempting to give you. If you wonât hold still, I will have you strapped down. Roberts, get that mask back on him.â
The world was taking on that sick spin again, which was the fault of that prissy doctor. I wouldnât be so wiped out if heâd quit arguing and cooperate. As it was, the nurse defeated me easily, fitting the mask over my face. I decided to suck down some of the oxygen they were determined to give me, get my strength back and try again.
âNot enough
Christopher Knight, Alan Butler