P.D. Singer - Mountain 04 - Blood On The Mountain by P.D. Singer

Author:P.D. Singer [Singer, P.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THEY’D wakened me twice in the night for some morphine and

coughing, fortunately in that order. Kurt rose to stand with me, letting me crush his hand while the nurse percussed my back. The pain didn’t respect the drug—the predators feasted. The nurse didn’t let me put the head of the bed down, saying I’d drain best from the semi-Fowler’s position. Maybe so, but it didn’t make my sleep any more restful.

We hadn’t been awake much past the yawn and stretch stage the next morning when Mrs. Chief solved all questions of Kurt’s clean up and breakfast. Not that I stretched much—a few millimeters on my right side and I stopped that in a hurry. But Kurt had both hands splayed into the air, making his ranger-green/dirtcolor T-shirt ride up to show me his middle. I enjoyed the pull of muscles vicariously.

“You can leave him be until he’s had breakfast, Terry!” Mrs. Chief chased Special Agent Souder through the door he’d opened about one nanosecond after his knock. Kurt’s and my stretches collapsed like trailers in a tornado.

“I do need to interview him, Mary Jo, and before they’ve had a chance to compare notes.” Agent Souder gave her a stern glance, which became a full on glare to us, as if we’d colluded all night long. A nurse knocked and came in, a pill cup and a tray in her hands, but she backed out much faster when Agent Souder cleared his throat at her.

Mrs. Chief continued her defense: “Honestly, you can see the poor boys just woke up!” She gave the glare back good as she got. “Kurt, why don’t you come back to the house, and I’ll find you a pancake and a clean shirt?”

“Thank you, ma’am, and if that generosity stretches to a razor…?” Kurt ran a hand over his two-days-worth of stubble.

“Of course, and I think Jake needs the same. Terry, don’t you pester the poor boy!” Mrs. Chief gathered Kurt up and bustled him out. That relieved Agent Souder visibly, though from Kurt’s and my inability to spoil his case or from Mrs. Chief’s being out of haranguing distance was hard to say.

“You gonna hand me that bottle?” I rasped out, willing to spend the air on making him uncomfortable. Souder’d chased Kurt out before even letting him visit the can.

“Uh, no. I’ll get you a nurse.” Agent Souder disappeared, and I found I’d bought myself an excellent half hour of getting clean and fed.

Shaving was a challenge, since I had to do it left-handed with the communal electric razor and missed several tracks of coffeegrounds brown whiskers, which the nurse tidied up for me. I wanted my right hand back, and I wanted it now, since I also managed to spill juice down my chin and shoot a piece of toast across the tray while attempting to butter it. I wanted to talk to a doctor a lot more than I wanted to talk to Agent Souder—he’d gotten plenty of information from Kurt, and I needed to know how I was going to rehab this stupid injury.

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