Page 59 of A Matter of Time

EIGHT

Istarted and jerked awake.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a voice said gently, and I felt a hand on my chest. “Just settle down. You’re all right; we’ve got you. Open your eyes—look at me.”

I thought my eyes were open.

“Can you hear me, buddy?”

I let out a deep breath, and his voice was miles away before there was no sound at all.

Bright light. I blinked so I could see something. Hospital. I was in the hospital, and the IV bag, the bed, the beeping machines, and the white coats were a dead giveaway in case I missed the nurses.

“Crap,” I groaned.

“Jory, can you hear me?” someone asked me.

“Yeah,” I groaned, trying to sit up. “Shit.”

“No, no, no,” a woman in a white coat, said gently, hand on my shoulder as she looked at me. “Just stay down until we get you all checked out here, all right?”

Heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“Anyone I should call, Jory?”

I was having trouble focusing, but saw that she was a doctor.

“He’s got a business card for Dane Harcourt in here,” another voice said. “There’s one for a Detective Kage as well.”

“Wait,” I gasped out. “Please don’t call anybody. Please.”

“Jory, can you⁠—”

But I didn’t hear the rest because the room did a sharp tilt to the left and I slid into darkness again.

Later, when I came to, a nurse explained to me that the staff had, in fact, not listened to my request, and had instead called Detective Sam Kage and explained to him about my arrival there at the hospital. They had also informed the police officers who came to the hospital that they had called the detective. I knew they had to, but still, I was disappointed. I didn’t have long to think about it before I passed out though.

When I woke up, I was freezing, and I opened my eyes to find a curtain pulled around the bed, so even though I could hear a lot of noise, no one could see me. I was hooked up to an IV bag, but I had seen enough movies to know that the needle came out just the same way it went in. It hurt much more than I thought it would—everything looked easier in the movies—especially getting the tape off, but I pressed down hard, and it only bled for a second. It took me a few tries to sit up without being too dizzy, and then to stand, but I was tenacious because I wanted out. At first the nausea was like a wave that sucked all the air out of my body, but it calmed down, receded, and I was able to stand and breathe and then walk. I hated hospitals—the smells, the freezing temperature, as well as the color of the walls and the fluorescent lighting. It was all just vile. I needed to get out fast.

All my things, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, were in a bag in a closed cubby beside the bed which I was thankful for. They hadn’t had time to transfer me upstairs which worked to my advantage. It was easy to get out of a crowded, busy emergency room. I slipped out with everyone else coming in and out. And as I started home, I thought how the next time someone said my pants were too tight, I was going to bring up this night. If you were wrestling for your life in the back of a big ass car, it sure came in handy to have chinos that fit like a second skin. That way you made sure you didn’t drop anything and no one could get a good hold of you. Loose pants, my ass.

My phone startled me when it rang. I was still a little on edge. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Who is this?” I asked, even though I knew exactly who it was.

“You know damn well who the fuck this is!”

“Oh,” I muttered. “Sam. Whaddya want?”

“What do I want? I want to know where the fuck you are!”

“I’m going home. I hate hospitals.”

“I don’t give a fuck; you weren’t cleared to leave. I talked to the staff and you should be in bed.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”