So the story as I've been publishing it over the last few months has remain untouched since then, I think it was 2009? Could be wrong there. It's rough, it needs a lot of work and several more drafts to make it really work, but that wasn't getting done with everything else I have going on, so I thought I would share it. Get it out. It's a story I've always wanted to tell, and maybe I struggled a little bit to tell it in this go round. But maybe if I find the time later to come back to it. I think I've mentioned before that I'd like to make a film version. We'll see, maybe some day.
In the mean time, enjoy the final part of David's adventure:
CHAPTER 14: Primum non Nocere
Grey daylight leaks in through the curtains as I wake. It’s dull. Cold. I’m in bed. Doc Kotek is asleep. Slumped on a chair. Roman isn’t here. I try to move. The pain in my leg bites me. I shout. Doc wakes with a start.
I slowly push myself up to a seated position.
“Take it easy.”
He gets me a glass of water and hands it to me. I drink it down.
“What time is it?”
“It’s after five.”
“Shit. Where’s Roman?”
“He left again, once we got you sewn up. It was a bad cut. You lost a lot of blood. If things weren’t the way they are I would have insisted you go to hospital. I’m still not sure you shouldn’t go.”
“Well, things are the way they are. Where’d he go?”
“He thinks he knows where Debbie is.”
I move to get up. But the pain pushes me back. I pull the cover off. There is a large white bandage around my leg with spots of blood on it.
“There’s fifteen stitches in that. Best not to move.”
I catch my breath. Doc hands me some painkillers. I swallow them. Close my eyes and wait for the pain to ease. It does. Not by much. But enough.
“How does he know where she is?”
“He drove her to the hospital last night for her shift. Didn’t come back until he arrived with you. He said you were supposed to be there?”
“He said they took Debbie before he realised, but he saw them leave and followed. Then he saw them take you. He tried to distract them, to give you a chance to do something. I guess it worked, whatever it was.”
“That was him out the back…. How’d he get in there? What about Debbie?”
“He was following the car that took her when you called. He had to turn back. He said he had an idea where they took her. He was going back to search.”
“The old fool. He should have waited for me.”
“You can’t go anywhere. Not with the amount of blood you’ve lost.”
“Well I’m not sitting around here doing nothing.”
I push myself out of bed. The pain is intense.
“Where’s my suit?”
I see it. Covered in blood. The pants and thermals are torn. They must have cut them to get to my leg. Can’t blame them for that. Idiot! I try to get away from them flaying my skin and I do it to myself. I turn to Doc.
“I have to go after her. It’s my fault they took her. All of this is my fault.”
“At least wait until dark.”
I agree. But every minute that passes I feel panic and anxiety swell inside me.
The thought of Debbie tied up in that boot claws at my insides.
“You should try and eat something too.”
“I can’t eat.”
“You’ll need energy. And, I was going through your results again. Looking at the blood work, it seems you’re a high risk for diabetes. Has that ever been mentioned to you before?”
“Has anyone in you family ever suffered from it?”
“No, not that I’m aware of.”
“It matches everything that’s changing in you body - hence the binging, the altered sleep pattern. Cutting yourself like this is not a good thing for a healthy person, but one with diabetes. You’re lucky you’re not dead. The only thing I can contribute it to is what ever this thing is, whatever is making you fly, on one had it’s throwing your body into chaos, making you sick, at least, on paper, but then it’s making you stronger too, pulling you back together, healing you, feeding you. It’s like a protective layer around you. I can’t get to grips with it.”
“Nor me Doc.”
“Look, just sit, I’ll cook you some pasta.”
Doc sets to making food. I take a look at my results. His notes. They make no sense to me. Nothing of it does. I wish Mr. Suit had been a little more forthcoming with the information. And I can’t say I even believe in anything he said. Another world? Slit in reality? Gateways for souls? It was all too much to take in.
Doc hands me a bowl of steaming hot pasta.
“Just worry about the Carbs.”
I dig in. It’s flavourless. With a chewy texture. He ain’t getting passed the skills test in Masterchef. But it works. I feel more awake for eating it. The more I eat the better I feel.
“Has he got any soup?”
Doc goes through the presses.
“Stick it on Doc. This seems to be doing the trick.”
He empties a can into the same saucepan and heats it. By the time I’m done with the pasta, it’s ready. I drink it down. Suddenly I’m ravenous. I get to my feet. I hope to the fridge and open it. It’s empty. I go through the presses. Nothing.
“Doc, I need something.”
He thinks for a moment. Then runs outside. I pace while I wait. A couple of minutes later he returns laden with food. Eggs. Milk. Bread. Butter. Sugar. And a newspaper.
“Doc, you beautiful bastard.”
“I told him I was a friend of Roman’s, we were staying the week and she loaded me up. Even got the newspaper!”