Visitations by Jonas Saul Page B

explanation.”
     
    Her index finger felt for the safety and flipped it off. She rolled a little to pull the weapon out and then gauged where he was, so when she flipped onto her stomach, her cuffed hands would have a fighting chance at aiming correctly. She had no idea where this side of her came from. She knew about safeties on weapons from TV. She had seen a woman die today. The man before her said her husband was dead. She knew she would be dead any second and yet her mind was clear, organized.
     
    The bank robber stepped up and stood six feet from her, his weapon aimed at a forty-five degree angle toward her face.
     
    The hospital siren wailed on. A nurse entered the area where they were and screamed. She ran back through the door she had just come through.
     
    Rebecca took a second to pray and then flipped onto her stomach.
     
    The bank robber’s gun fired first.
     
    Her finger began squeezing the trigger as soon as she turned. After two pulls, the finger continued, but only as a reflex as her body went into a seizure.
     
    The bank robber’s bullet had entered the back of her head.
     

     
    #
     
    Her eyes opened.
     
    She tried to get up, but was restrained by the pain. The last thoughts she’d had came back to her.
     
    A metal stand was beside her, pumping something into her arm. Some kind of cloth covered her neck and head. Feeling around with her free hand, she discovered bandages.
     
    A machine beeped beside her, increasing in tempo with her heartbeat.
     
    A door opened. She tried to look toward it, but more pain welcomed that thought.
     
    “You’re awake.”
     
    The doctor who had attended the bank robber stood over her, looking down with a silly smile under his thick glasses.
     
    “What happened?” she asked, her mouth feeling as arid as sand.
     
    The doctor turned away and came back with a glass of water, a bendable straw sticking out of it. She drank greedily until he pulled it away.
     
    “Lots happened. You were shot by the guy who shot and killed two police officers.”
     
    “What happened to him?” Rebecca asked, her stomach turning as it all came back to her.
     
    “He’s dead now. He didn’t make it out of the parking lot. The investigation took weeks, but they pieced it all together. I was told that you were at the bank and we told the police what your husband said about calling you. They haven’t figured that part out yet, but at least they now know you weren’t part of it.” He stopped, looked down at her and raised one thumb. “That was some crazy gun use you did. Shot the robber in the stomach, dead center. He stumbled out of the hospital and collapsed in the parking lot where he died under a hail of gunfire. They found a memory stick on him with the schematics of the police station on it. It was in all the papers all the way down to Toronto. This guy was planning on attacking the police station while someone else would rob the bank. The attack on the police station was meant to draw attention away from the bank robbery. Without you, it would’ve happened. They’re calling you a hero.”
     
    It was so much to take in. She was happy he was gone, but she needed to know about Mark.
     
    “What happened to my husband?”
     
    He looked away. “I’m sorry. You’ve been out for almost a month now. Your head wound was severe. We were worried you would wake up and not remember anything, or not wake at all.”
     
    “My husband,” Rebecca cut him off.
     
    “He died. The bank job guy strangled him in his bed after you went downstairs.”
     
    Rebecca cried. After a moment the doctor stepped away. Then she heard the door open and close.
     
    She cried, because even in death he’d came for her. She wept, because he’d saved her life again, and because - wounded in a coma - they’d enjoyed a month together.
     
    Rebecca whispered a goodbye to Mark and said, “I’ll see you in my dreams.”
     

The Newspaper

    I can’t believe I’m sitting here, waiting for