Chapter 27

My brain awoke before my body. I knew I was in the hospital, and that I'd been shot intervening in the attack on the Maines family. As I tried to take inventory of my body to see if I was still me, the pain hit me all over, and all at once.

Getting shot sucks.

Getting shot one too many times, sucks more.

Getting shot also hurts like HELL!

I DON'T WANT TO GET SHOT ANYMORE!!!

Does the universe care????

Nope...

Here I am, back in the hospital, shot up, and hurting like hell – but not the universe.

The universe is just spinning around out there in space, getting bigger, blowing up supernovas, and creating black holes that eat whole solar systems, and stuff like that.

That and more was how I entertained myself before I was conscious enough to open my eyes. Of course, my old friend, the beeping machine was present and accounted for. After all, what is a good shooting without a long, torturous stay in hell, listening, to the beeping?

What I REALLY wanted to know was if I still David Walsh? If I was, then the healing would be pretty hard, because the gunshot wounds were bad. If I wasn't, then I needed to figure that out before I said things to get myself locked up in a mental ward.

It wasn't a good day, no matter how you looked at it.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself long enough to pay attention to what was going on around me, and heard, "No sir. He hasn't opened his eyes at all since he passed out in the ER..." Someone was giving an update on my sleeping habits, to someone else. I felt pretty smart for having figured that all out on my own.

The voice was back. It was a youngish, woman's voice, and by the words spoken, whoever was asking was some kind of boss, and the woman was clearly an underling. I waited to see – or hear – what followed. It didn't take long.

A man spoke in a hushed, almost reverential tone, that I would have associated with a church, not a hospital. "He is to be treated with every kindness, every consideration, and every possible medical treatment available. Spare nothing, make him wait for nobody, and I want to know that his stay here was as restful, healing, and pampered as is humanly possible."

Someone clearly had it in their mind that I was to treated well.

If I'd been conscious enough to open my eyes, I could've discovered who, but I was still operating on sound alone. "Yes sir. I will do everything in my power to make sure Mr. Everett is provided every possible comfort." She sounded somewhat intimidated, but determined to fulfill his orders. I heard a pen scratching on paper, and then I heard her leave.

Now that I knew who I was, it was time to figure out how bad it was.

It was a surprise when I felt my head slightly adjusted on the pillow, and a soft, cool, washcloth bathed my face, making me feel so good. Clearly someone else was attending me besides the woman who just left. She must have had a little alcohol in the water to make me feel so refreshed. I felt sad when she stopped. The pain was tolerable, even though it was nasty when I was moved around, even slightly. I could feel the pull of the staples that were holding me together, and tried to focus on something else to get my head out of the pain.

I heard footsteps come into the room. They belonged to a woman, but not the one who had just left. This one was about five feet, or a little taller, not skinny but certainly not fat. I surmised all that from listening to her steps, and wondered where I learned to describe people by the sound of their walk. The two women talked quietly while I drifted somewhere just short of fully awake.

"Any change?"

"No. He's been like this since they brought him in."

"What in the world made him go after those awful people? He was like a crazy person."

"I thought he was brave. Really brave, and smart enough to keep them from shooting you and Daddy."

"Well he kept us from getting shot, but look at him. He got hurt very badly. I'm not sure he made the best possible trade. Where's your father and Leah?"

"Daddy just left a little while ago. He took Leah home, and came back to lecture the supervisor about making sure this one gets all of the best care in the world. If not, he'll probably buy the hospital just so he can fire the president.

"Mom, he's acting really scared. Do we have anything to be afraid of?"

There was a short pause, followed by, "Daddy thought the government was overreacting when they warned us about foreign enemies. Then something like this happens, and we realized that the bodyguards were almost useless. If this boy hadn't seen them and stepped in, we might have been killed, so I think we have plenty to worry abo, but Daddy has made arrangements for better security, especially when we are away from home.

"You will find some new faces when you and I get back home, because the bodyguard company went ballistic when they found out that the guards only reacted after this fellow took out two of the kidnappers. It isn't supposed to happen that way, and for what Daddy is paying them, it better not happen that way ever again." I heard the steel in her voice, then. She was a force to be reckoned with, and anyone endangering her family was not going to like the way she pushed back.

Another set of footsteps entered the room, and I was surprised when two hands shoved at my shoulder to move me. The pain was immediate and terrible. The sound I made scared even me. No matter how I tried, I couldn't come fully awake, which made the pain worse for not being able to see it, touch it, hold myself where it hurt, or tell anyone about my pain.

The hands that were so rough suddenly relaxed, and the nurse softly spoke into my ear. "Shhhhh ... You're in the hospital, but everything looks like it will be fine. You need to rest and heal. Relax and sleep. That's the best thing that can happen now..." She wasn't making a bit of sense, and I struggled harder to open my eyes.

The tension I felt throughout my body was translated into pain, and I cried out when a stabbing jolt bit into my chest. Columba took my part. "Go find his physician. Bring him here, now. We will not allow this young man to suffer in agony, because it happens to be an inconvenient time of the day."

Her voice was calm but had that steel in it, I noticed earlier. The nurse didn't argue, and I heard her footsteps going away. A soft, gentle hand brushed the hair across my forehead, and I heard Columba say to Miranda, "I think he's awake but not awake. If I had to guess, he's struggling to open his eyes so he can figure out what's happened, and what's happening. It must be scary to be almost awake, but unable to communicate.