Deadman's Switch & Sunder the Hollow Ones by Saul Tanpepper Page B

nurse!”
    â€œThere is no nurse, Micah.”
    He looks confused. “What?”
    â€œLook, I’ll explain everything. We’ll get it out. But first, you need to relax and eat something. You need to eat.”
    After I calm him down and he’s managed to swallow half a Slim Jim and a few stale crackers and drink another cup of juice, he waves the rest off. “Please get someone to take this crap out of me. I want to pee on my own terms, not…this.”
    â€œOkay. So, here’s the deal. You’ve got two options. You can either let me do it, or you can do it yourself.”
    He considers this for about a half second before telling me he’ll do it himself.
    I give him a fresh syringe from the supplies Kelly brought back from the medical cart on the tram and instruct him on how to remove the catheter. When he’s ready, I close the curtain to give him some privacy.
    After several minutes of grunting and swearing and one or two hisses of pain, he calls out to me. “Done. Damn this thing’s freaking long.”
    I come back around the curtain to find him holding the catheter up in the air so it doesn’t leak, a look of chagrin on his face. I avoid his gaze and instead busy myself taking it and the bag from him. He looks at me with surprise. I’ve had my arm up to the elbow inside a zombie, for god’s sake. A little pee isn’t going to make me squeamish.
    Of course, he doesn’t know any of that.
    He quietly thanks me, then swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand up, one hand holding the sheet around him. He curses, takes a few steps, then turns around again and falls back onto the bed, panting. “How far was that? Felt like a marathon.”
    â€œClose. It’s a start. That’s why you need to eat.”
    He’s silent for a moment. “I remember computers in here. Or was I hallucinating?”
    â€œThe room next door. We decided to move you. Less noisy.”
    Over the next hour or so, I give him the basics. I dole out the information carefully, watching him to make sure it doesn’t overwhelm him. I begin by telling him that we were all in an accident, but I don’t tell him what kind. That sort of detail will come later. I assure him that everyone is all right, that we all survived. That we’re nearly fully recovered.
    â€œYou were the worst hurt.”
    He frowns for a moment, concentrating. Then his face relaxes. “There was water, all around us. We were in a boat.”
    I nod.
    â€œWe we’re in…East Harlem?”
    Another nod.
    â€œYeah, I remember now. Waiting for Kelly and Jake. Planes. I remember planes.” His eyes widen. “They bombed us.”
    â€œYes.”
    More concentrating. I wait, but the strain on his face intensifies until I worry he’ll snap. I tell him he needs to rest.
    â€œI am tired,” he admits. He turns his head and closes his eyes.
    I give him a sad smile. It’s hard for me to see him looking so worn down, so broken and defeated. Is this the new norm? Not just for him, but for us all?
    Each one of us seems to have adjusted differently. In the two days we’ve been here on our own, we’ve reached some new level of normalcy, even if it looks nothing at all like the old normal. And that’s what scares me so much.
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Chapter 17

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    â€œHelp!”
    Someone’s screaming bloody murder down the hall. I jump from the cot and race toward the noise that’s coming from Micah’s room.
    Reggie’s already in there, grabbing at Jake and pulling him of the bed. “Get off of Micah,” he shouts.
    â€œGet off of me ,” Jake yells back, pushing Reggie away while Micah struggles underneath the pile.
    Reggie takes a step back, then reaches forward and lifts Jake by the waist of his pants, like he’s a sack of potatoes, and flings him to the floor. Unburdened, Micah jumps out of the bed, naked from the waist