The Hungry 4: Rise of the Triad (The Sheriff Penny Miller Series) by Steven Booth, Harry Shannon Page A
Authors: Steven Booth, Harry Shannon
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croaked out a sentence. “Scratch, what the hell happened to your hair?”
“Oh, this?” Scratch ran his hand across light-brown, newly close-cropped hair. “I got it cut. Do you like it?”
Miller was too drugged up to lie. “No.”
His face fell.
“You look like some crooked old city politician eyeballing babes at a church fundraiser.”
Scratch was hurt. “Thanks.”
Dazed, Miller looked around. A shaded window overlooked the ocean. She could tell that it was late afternoon, because an intense pallet of sunset made the far wall look like it was on fire. A pair of seagulls swooped past the window outside. Miller surveyed the hospital room. An x-ray was clipped onto a machine attached to the opposite wall, but the light was off so she couldn’t quite make out what it looked like. Above her head was a vital signs monitor, though she couldn’t read it either from that angle. She struggled to make sense of her situation. She had only vague memories of the previous night, having trouble falling asleep, having a terrible dream. She’d gone for a long walk and somehow ended up getting into trouble. Everything was a blur.
Scratch had stepped back from the bedside. He looked a tad upset. Miller felt bad about that, but her concern about his feelings lasted about as long as a goose fart in a snowstorm. She needed to remember why she was here, but somehow couldn’t.
The nurse came back with a tiny cup of water. She slipped the straw between Miller’s lips. Miller drank greedily. Her throat was parched, and soon she was slurping the bottom of the cup like a kid with a milkshake.
“More.”
“No, that’s enough. Wait until your stomach gets better. How do you feel?”
“Like a slice of ass pie. What the hell happened to me?”
Scratch answered before the nurse could respond. “You went swimming in the ocean on your own, and they say you had a seizure. One of the guards saw you struggling and pulled you out just in time. You were lucky to be rescued.”
“Swimming?” Miller searched her memory again. She remembered slipping out of bed, looking for something to eat, walking down the stairs. She remembered some men… soldiers? That was all she could recall. The slate had been wiped clean. All she knew is that she felt awful.
The nurse quickly examined her and the equipment leading to the monitors, checking this and adjusting that. “Well, it seems you’re going to be okay, Penny, despite everything that happened. The doctor will be here shortly. In the meantime, please try to relax.”
“Uh, okay…”
The nurse walked out of the room without closing the door. Another nurse hurried by carrying a clipboard. A voice spoke from a loudspeaker down the hall, but the words were muffled. Someone rolled a tray past the door, but by then Miller was looking at Scratch and his new haircut. She didn’t know what to make of it.
Scratch slipped his hand into Miller’s. He squeezed. The IV needle made her hand sting. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Miller tried to pull her hand away from his, but she couldn’t get it to move—or anything else, for that matter.
“I’m in restraints?”
“You’ve had a couple more seizures since they brought you here. The restraints are to keep you from ripping out the IVs and hurting yourself again.”
“Take them off.”
“I can’t.” Scratch straightened up. “I’m worried about you, sweetness. I saw you have one of those seizures earlier this morning. It scared the living crap out of me. There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“No, it’s this place that’s wrong, Scratch,” insisted Miller. Her mind began to clear, though the details remained hazy. “I don’t think I went swimming. I couldn’t sleep, so I just went for a walk around the building.”
Scratch frowned. Miller moved her eyes, asking him to lean closer so she could whisper. Scratch brought his ear close to her lips.
“I remember what happened now. I stumbled across a
“Oh, this?” Scratch ran his hand across light-brown, newly close-cropped hair. “I got it cut. Do you like it?”
Miller was too drugged up to lie. “No.”
His face fell.
“You look like some crooked old city politician eyeballing babes at a church fundraiser.”
Scratch was hurt. “Thanks.”
Dazed, Miller looked around. A shaded window overlooked the ocean. She could tell that it was late afternoon, because an intense pallet of sunset made the far wall look like it was on fire. A pair of seagulls swooped past the window outside. Miller surveyed the hospital room. An x-ray was clipped onto a machine attached to the opposite wall, but the light was off so she couldn’t quite make out what it looked like. Above her head was a vital signs monitor, though she couldn’t read it either from that angle. She struggled to make sense of her situation. She had only vague memories of the previous night, having trouble falling asleep, having a terrible dream. She’d gone for a long walk and somehow ended up getting into trouble. Everything was a blur.
Scratch had stepped back from the bedside. He looked a tad upset. Miller felt bad about that, but her concern about his feelings lasted about as long as a goose fart in a snowstorm. She needed to remember why she was here, but somehow couldn’t.
The nurse came back with a tiny cup of water. She slipped the straw between Miller’s lips. Miller drank greedily. Her throat was parched, and soon she was slurping the bottom of the cup like a kid with a milkshake.
“More.”
“No, that’s enough. Wait until your stomach gets better. How do you feel?”
“Like a slice of ass pie. What the hell happened to me?”
Scratch answered before the nurse could respond. “You went swimming in the ocean on your own, and they say you had a seizure. One of the guards saw you struggling and pulled you out just in time. You were lucky to be rescued.”
“Swimming?” Miller searched her memory again. She remembered slipping out of bed, looking for something to eat, walking down the stairs. She remembered some men… soldiers? That was all she could recall. The slate had been wiped clean. All she knew is that she felt awful.
The nurse quickly examined her and the equipment leading to the monitors, checking this and adjusting that. “Well, it seems you’re going to be okay, Penny, despite everything that happened. The doctor will be here shortly. In the meantime, please try to relax.”
“Uh, okay…”
The nurse walked out of the room without closing the door. Another nurse hurried by carrying a clipboard. A voice spoke from a loudspeaker down the hall, but the words were muffled. Someone rolled a tray past the door, but by then Miller was looking at Scratch and his new haircut. She didn’t know what to make of it.
Scratch slipped his hand into Miller’s. He squeezed. The IV needle made her hand sting. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Miller tried to pull her hand away from his, but she couldn’t get it to move—or anything else, for that matter.
“I’m in restraints?”
“You’ve had a couple more seizures since they brought you here. The restraints are to keep you from ripping out the IVs and hurting yourself again.”
“Take them off.”
“I can’t.” Scratch straightened up. “I’m worried about you, sweetness. I saw you have one of those seizures earlier this morning. It scared the living crap out of me. There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“No, it’s this place that’s wrong, Scratch,” insisted Miller. Her mind began to clear, though the details remained hazy. “I don’t think I went swimming. I couldn’t sleep, so I just went for a walk around the building.”
Scratch frowned. Miller moved her eyes, asking him to lean closer so she could whisper. Scratch brought his ear close to her lips.
“I remember what happened now. I stumbled across a
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