Chapter 20

For several days I was medicated heavily to keep me from moving and disturbing the stitching. The doctors that visited me unanimously proclaimed that I should have bled to death within minutes of my injury, but somehow survived long enough to be stitched together enough for the trip to the hospital.

I chalked it up to the machinations of the universe. As long as I was in this body, the universe would make sure I survived, no matter how bizarre the circumstances, until the tasks were complete. Since the universe never deigned to inform me of my responsibilities, it was impossible to know if any injury was going to be the fatal one that would catapult me into someone else.

On the sixth day a surgeon removed the outer stitches, and declared that I was healed enough to move around a little. That pleased me even more than it did the girls. Being stuck in Florida wasn't on their agenda. They were ready to get away from James.

On that score I had no complaints. Because I'd saved Kristine at the MGM, and he saw me take on ISIS in person, I was the second coming of Chuck Norris in his eyes. He badgered the doctors to make sure I was healing. Then he badgered the nurses demanding that I be made more comfortable. Then he badgered the CIA when they came to debrief me about the shootout.

James was an equal opportunity badger-er except where I was concerned. He was totally in on me being safe, well cared for, clean, and recovered. When he came in, which was often, he did so quietly, and concerned about disturbing my rest. When he wanted to talk, he asked gently, and happily took no for an answer. James played the perfect guest whenever he was in my presence, to the point that Leslie wryly commented, "I think he's afraid that if you get too annoyed with him, you'll kill him like you did the others."

Ok. I'll go for that. It was at least as good a reason as I could have come up with

Kristine was madly in love with Jasmine, and equally determined to get back to Asheville to Baby. Each day Nicole would lecture Kristine about my injuries and how dangerous it would be for me to try and do too much. Kristine understood, but was still very anxious to get back and play with her pony.

Where my comfort was concerned, Leslie managed to find enough time each day, after I felt like it was safe, to take good care of Mr. Johnson. Nicole asked several times if I needed a refresher, and seemed very grateful to deliver it the one time I agreed. We were all three looking forward to getting back to our routine, in and out of bed.

On the seventh day The Judge turned up. He seemed extremely grateful to find me alive. For a very long time he beat around the bush, then admitted, "Noah, we may have mistakenly set you up down in Key West. It was always our intention to carefully leak your location, and then take down whoever showed up to kill you.

"What happened was one of our teams got their wires crossed, and prematurely gave up your location without warning the rest of us. The people involved have been thoroughly vetted, and it was a real life screw-up, and not the result of threats, or bribery. We are confident we have the whole story, even if it's a stupid one."

He was beating himself up over something he had no control over, so I said, "Sir, you need to know that I don't hold a bit of a grudge here. Those people came to kill me, and my friends. What they got was mostly dead, and that was their problem, not mine.

"Remember, Sir, I told you I wanted another shot at them, and you came through for me. Just because it wasn't perfectly arranged doesn't change the fact that I got exactly what I asked for, and then you turned around and gave me a big reward.

"Hey. I'm the winner here, not the victim. Thank you very much."

He liked that, and smiled to prove it.

The debrief was mercifully short because we were at war, and I was attacked' by the enemy, which gave me immunity from gun laws, deadly force issues, or being sued by the heirs of the morons. What they wanted to know was any subtle bits of information I might have picked up without realizing it, and the two interviewers were very good at their job.

Eventually they led me through the events until I remembered hearing one of them yell something at the other. It made no impression on me, and I would have never remembered it, except for their skillful ability to make me go back over things from the opposite perspective. At any rate, when they heard me say the words I heard, they put it together and ran off to report their discovery.

At the time of the interview I still wore the massive bandages, and had very restricted movement of my head. The surgeon really wanted me to knit together, and avoiding ruining his work, and dying was a high priority for the hospital staff. The agents were very careful not to push too hard, or let me get wrought up about anything.

It was quite late when they left, and the trauma nurse stayed to make sure they hadn't caused me to wreck their best work, and when she discovered that I was the one who killed the terrorists at Key West, and Asheville, as well as saved the little girl in Las Vegas, she became very friendly. Her friendliness was way over the line, but as far as technique, and customer satisfaction, she did very well.

After that I had a very restful sleep

In the morning The Judge informed me that there had been an attempted intrusion during the night, and that it was possible a hospital staffer had leaked my identity, and where-a-bouts. "You better check the bank accounts of the trauma nurse who was waiting on me last night. She was far too interested in my story than was normal, and tried to cover up her interest by pretending to be interested in me."

He stepped out to get someone on that, and shortly four rather large gentlemen, in exceptionally fine physical shape, set up shop just outside my door. They all seemed to have an inordinate interest in weapons, because they were armed to the teeth. Each time I moved around in my room, one or more of them opened the door to make sure it was voluntary, and whenever a nurse, orderly, aide, or doctor came in, they were checked against a printed list of those cleared by The Judge.

I never did see the trauma nurse again, but remember her oral skills very fondly. A few days later another nurse commented that the woman simply failed to come to work the next day, and nobody had heard from her since.

Being an involuntary at GITMO will do that for you, I'd imagine.

As I began to feel my old self, Leslie and Nicole took turns keeping me company late at night, and they'd chatter on about our lives, by the hour. I tried mightily to keep it all about them, and never about Noah. When things strayed to my background I was rather bland, and uninteresting. It worked very well.