I still didn’t entirely trust the hospital — those thugs who shot Jason up might be watching the emergency rooms. I decided to go with Jason to make sure he was safe.
It wasn’t too hard to make my excuses to my police officer contact, and so in short order I found myself in the back of an ambulance speeding off towards the hospital. A few times the EMT tried to make small talk, but quickly realized I wasn’t in the mood. I found myself lost in thought, and just kept staring at Jason — who was lying between us with an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. His eyes were closed, but I wasn’t sure if he’d passed out again or if he was just resting. Either way I felt a rising sense of weariness mixed with pure panic. I wasn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight, and if something bad did go down — I didn’t know if I’d have the strength to deal with it.
In short order, we arrived at the hospital. They wheeled Jason into surgery and I had to stay and fill out some paperwork. By the time I was done, it was almost 6am and I was left standing in the lobby holding only a plastic bag filled with Jason’s posessions.
I found a payphone, fished Denise’s number out of the bag, and rang Denise. There was no answer, which struck me as odd, but I left a message on her machine letting her know that something bad happened and that I’d call her back as soon as I could with more information.
Then I wearily wended my way up to Jason’s room. I knocked lightly and opened the door. Jason had the whole room to himself, and there was (conveniently enough) an empty bed nearby just for me. I was about to close the door, when a man walked in and almost plowed me right over. He stopped for a moment and we stared at each other blankly. He was dressed in a long tattered brown trench coat and was carrying a pathetic little bouquet of flowers. The knees of his pants were well worn, each proudly sporting a patch, and he wore dark gray tennis shoes (which also showed definite signs of wear). He also wore a pair of iron-rimmed spectacles on his nose, through which he peered at me with a great deal of confusion.
“M’sorry”, he mumbled, “Wrong room.”
And then he turned on his heel and hurried away. I couldn’t tell from the brief exposure, but something about his face seemed very familiar to me, and that fact scared the hell out of me in our current situation.
Note:With crunch time descending upon me (at least for a little while) I’m going to need to post some short episodes for a bit. . I’m thinking about doing them twice a week and having them just be a few paragraphs long. Please let me know if you’re interested in voting twice a week or not. Given that there’s only about 5 people voting at the moment, if I hear from everyone by then I’ll post an update Thursday, as well. Otherwise it’ll just be short episodes on Monday only.
Updates are on Mondays sometime before midnight. You must be registered to vote in the polls.
5 thoughts on “[D3] Episode 9”
Twice a week sounds fine to me. 🙂
Good luck with crunch.
Wow, you’re quick. Thanks =)
Hrm, forgot to come back here for a week or so. I’ll be around to vote, but post only as much as you aren’t busy..
I crunch too! I have no demands to make of your posting habits, but I do like clicking buttons on the internets.
Whatever posting schedule works for you, Mike.
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