Selene
Copyright© 2022 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 39
So ... I healed ... learned to live again ... the arm that was broken was never straight ... close ... weaker ... always tender. The healed burns were like holes ... holes in my soul. The bruises faded.
I have no idea what the assailant was thinking when he broke into my hospital room. Probably, “Where did she get the gun?”
When the ‘rope’ finally wore off, I was having nightmares. The doctors claimed Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
Just because he was dead didn’t mean it was over.
The forensic accountants found enormous offshore accounts.
“Young lady, we can’t do anything about the nightmares ... but we can sure take his money,” said the Judge. Court awarded ... non taxable.
Well ... shit ... more money ... it’s not like I needed more. I financed two Ph.D’s and paid off school loans for the entire crew. I was already financing quite a lot of the dig.
I failed my physical reevaluation. I wasn’t allowed to fly my mother’s Sandy.
The Flight Surgeon said, “Maybe next time ... in a year. Work on your range of motion.”
“I have two Airdrome ultralights ... can I fly them?”
“Only one at a time,” he said. He cackled. “One at a time. Get it?”
By the time I was mobile enough to notice, the summer session wound down. The professionals were starting in September. Professor Waters asked if I wanted to assist.
“Sure.”
So ... pretty much the professionals were the same crew from the summer. They had graduated, worked the summer session and were waiting on interviews with the Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management and the assorted State services ... oh ... and the plumb ... a single National Park desk job.
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