Big Thaw by A.J. Stewart

Author:A.J. Stewart [Stewart, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacaranda Drive Inc

Chapter Thirty-One

I probably should have gone straight to the hospital—I suspected Danielle was going to give me grief about it—but an urgent care waiting room was the last place I wanted to be. If I started coughing up blood, then I reserved the right to change my mind on that.

I set my sights on getting to the office instead. It took longer to get up, cross the parking lot and then the road, and ease myself into my car than it did to drive back to Banyan Street. I parked on the curb outside the bank branch that took up the ground floor of our building, then stumbled my way to the elevator. I got a few concerned looks from people on the sidewalk and those watching me through the window of the bank, but no one approached to see if I was okay.

I had read something about a scientific study that showed that groups of people were far less likely to offer assistance than a person on their own. Something about needing to conform to the tribe, or some such. I resolved to remember that if I ever really needed help, and if I ever saw someone else in need.

It didn’t matter. I was in no position to help anyone, and I found the help I needed as soon as I opened the door to my office.

“Oh my Lord,” said Lizzy, the closest she ever came to taking her Lord’s name in vain. She practically vaulted over the desk and helped me into a chair in reception. “I’ll call the paramedics.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“You’re okay?” She got in tight to my face, as if she were inspecting my soul, or maybe just the whites of my eyes. “You must have a concussion if you think you’re okay.”

She turned toward my office and called for Ron. He appeared at the door, and his face dropped.

“What happened?” he asked. It was a fair question, and for a moment I considered the fact that Lizzy hadn’t asked it—maybe she figured it was a question to be asked later.

She opened a metal case on the floor containing all manner of bandages and Band-Aids and ointments. It took me longer than necessary to realize she had procured a first-aid kit, but I had no idea from where.

She used a small towel to dab my face, and I was somewhat surprised to see the quantity of blood that came away on it. Once done, she touched up various parts of my head with antiseptic, then dressed my wounds.

“Take off your shirt,” she said.

“Lizzy, I didn’t think you cared,” I said.

I didn’t get the sharp rebuke that I expected. She and Ron simply pulled the shirt over the top of my head like I was a three-year-old boy, and I heard Ron gasp.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?” he asked.

I tried to inspect my wounds but given the fetal position I had assumed in the alley beside the bar, most of the damage was on the back side of my body.

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