trigger and
enjoying watching the spray of bullets end another life. But that life was his
best friend, and he has to open his eyes to stop the nightmare from playing
itself out over and over again.
A couple of minutes
later, a cold drink is placed in his hand and he gulps it down without
thinking. He barely tastes the fiery liquid as it goes down. His glass is
refilled and he drains it faster than the first one. By the time he’s downed
his fifth scotch, a thought comes to mind; Kayla. He has to see the doctor. He
racks his brain trying to remember if he knows her address; he draws a blank.
He does have her number, however. He feels around in his pocket for his phone
but it’s not there. Then he remembers the policy; no one takes a phone on a
mission. His is back at the clubhouse.
“Anton,” Luke
calls out. He’s dimly aware he’s slurring his words. “Anton…phone.”
Anton walks over
and presses a phone in his hand. Luke thinks for a minute, then dials Kayla’s
number. He lets it ring until it goes to voicemail before hanging up and trying
again. On the fourth time he’s rewarded by a sleepy female voice.
“Hello?”
“I have to see
you,” he breathes into the phone. “I have to see you now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Doctor Feelgood
Kayla sits in her
kitchen nursing a coffee and waiting for Luke to arrive. Something bad must
have happened to him to call her at this time. It suddenly occurs to her that
he sounded hurt.
Could he have
been shot or something?
That thought puts
her into action. She runs to the bathroom and fetches her trauma kit. After
meeting Luke, she decided to put together a kit to keep at home. Over the past
several weeks, she’d secretly taken various medical supplies from the hospital.
Her kit now sports antibiotics, suture kits, sterile instruments, used for digging
bullets out, and plenty of sterile dressings for different kinds of wounds.
She clears off the
dining room table and puts a clean plastic table cloth on it. She will have him
lay there. It’s the best-lit place to work.
After everything
has been set up, she returns to the kitchen to finish her coffee and wait.
He must be
pretty bad, she muses .
Hopefully, it’s just another knife wound. I don't relish the idea of having to
dig out a bullet without anesthesia. Even Luke isn’t that tough .
She’s about to
help herself to a third cup of coffee when someone pounds on her front door.
She runs to open it and nearly collapses in fright when she sees Luke. He is
wrecked! Her heart drops as she helps his friend bring him into the house. He
is covered in blood from the top of his chest to his waist.
“Where’s he hit?”
she asks, as they half-lead, half-drag him into the dining room.
“Him? He’s not
hurt at all,” his friend says.
“You?” she asks.
“Someone else,
actually. It’s a long story that he’ll no doubt tell you.”
She leads them
into her living room where Luke collapses on her couch. She winces, thinking
that she will probably have to buy a new couch. Blood stains are difficult to
remove.
“Can I get you a
drink?” she asks Luke’s friend.
“You can get him
one, but I’ll be taking off now.”
“Oh…okay. Well,
thanks for bringing him.”
“Yup.”
Luke’s friend
shuts the door behind him, leaving them alone. Kayla grabs a glass and a bottle
of Scotch. She pours a drink for him and grabs another glass. She has a feeling
she’s going to need something strong too before the morning is over. She brings
him the glass and he downs it without a word. She studies his face. He’s pale.
His eyes are bloodshot, but haven’t lost their sparkle. Maybe he’s not as
wasted as she first thought.
She sits down
beside him. He reeks. Normally, the smell of blood doesn’t faze her. But
tonight, the combination of blood, sweat, and fear is a noxious potion she does
not want to imbibe. She forces herself to remain where she is seated.
“Do you want to
tell me what happened?” she
enjoying watching the spray of bullets end another life. But that life was his
best friend, and he has to open his eyes to stop the nightmare from playing
itself out over and over again.
A couple of minutes
later, a cold drink is placed in his hand and he gulps it down without
thinking. He barely tastes the fiery liquid as it goes down. His glass is
refilled and he drains it faster than the first one. By the time he’s downed
his fifth scotch, a thought comes to mind; Kayla. He has to see the doctor. He
racks his brain trying to remember if he knows her address; he draws a blank.
He does have her number, however. He feels around in his pocket for his phone
but it’s not there. Then he remembers the policy; no one takes a phone on a
mission. His is back at the clubhouse.
“Anton,” Luke
calls out. He’s dimly aware he’s slurring his words. “Anton…phone.”
Anton walks over
and presses a phone in his hand. Luke thinks for a minute, then dials Kayla’s
number. He lets it ring until it goes to voicemail before hanging up and trying
again. On the fourth time he’s rewarded by a sleepy female voice.
“Hello?”
“I have to see
you,” he breathes into the phone. “I have to see you now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Doctor Feelgood
Kayla sits in her
kitchen nursing a coffee and waiting for Luke to arrive. Something bad must
have happened to him to call her at this time. It suddenly occurs to her that
he sounded hurt.
Could he have
been shot or something?
That thought puts
her into action. She runs to the bathroom and fetches her trauma kit. After
meeting Luke, she decided to put together a kit to keep at home. Over the past
several weeks, she’d secretly taken various medical supplies from the hospital.
Her kit now sports antibiotics, suture kits, sterile instruments, used for digging
bullets out, and plenty of sterile dressings for different kinds of wounds.
She clears off the
dining room table and puts a clean plastic table cloth on it. She will have him
lay there. It’s the best-lit place to work.
After everything
has been set up, she returns to the kitchen to finish her coffee and wait.
He must be
pretty bad, she muses .
Hopefully, it’s just another knife wound. I don't relish the idea of having to
dig out a bullet without anesthesia. Even Luke isn’t that tough .
She’s about to
help herself to a third cup of coffee when someone pounds on her front door.
She runs to open it and nearly collapses in fright when she sees Luke. He is
wrecked! Her heart drops as she helps his friend bring him into the house. He
is covered in blood from the top of his chest to his waist.
“Where’s he hit?”
she asks, as they half-lead, half-drag him into the dining room.
“Him? He’s not
hurt at all,” his friend says.
“You?” she asks.
“Someone else,
actually. It’s a long story that he’ll no doubt tell you.”
She leads them
into her living room where Luke collapses on her couch. She winces, thinking
that she will probably have to buy a new couch. Blood stains are difficult to
remove.
“Can I get you a
drink?” she asks Luke’s friend.
“You can get him
one, but I’ll be taking off now.”
“Oh…okay. Well,
thanks for bringing him.”
“Yup.”
Luke’s friend
shuts the door behind him, leaving them alone. Kayla grabs a glass and a bottle
of Scotch. She pours a drink for him and grabs another glass. She has a feeling
she’s going to need something strong too before the morning is over. She brings
him the glass and he downs it without a word. She studies his face. He’s pale.
His eyes are bloodshot, but haven’t lost their sparkle. Maybe he’s not as
wasted as she first thought.
She sits down
beside him. He reeks. Normally, the smell of blood doesn’t faze her. But
tonight, the combination of blood, sweat, and fear is a noxious potion she does
not want to imbibe. She forces herself to remain where she is seated.
“Do you want to
tell me what happened?” she
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