Читать книгу Direct Strike - Lorelei Buckley - Страница 6
ОглавлениеChapter 2
“Nurse!” Zoey winced. Her right shoulder, wrapped in gauze, burned, and she might as well have chugged a bottle of lava. She massaged her neck and then canopied her delicate eyes from the harsh fluorescents. An IV dangled from her hand.
“Anyone?” She coughed and the rawness of her throat produced a tear. Her organs and bones roasted, and she lay on the nurse’s button, terrified of cooking alive.
Botanical wallpaper bordered the room and sparked memories—darkness, trees, a tot in the woods with enormous brown eyes sadder than starvation. Not possible. She recoiled and blamed insomnia and drugs and incompetent medical staff for allowing her to panic.
Voices streamed the hall. One in particular drew closer to the doorway. An elderly male doctor with squinty teal eyes and a bulbous nose entered the room. He smiled and held a clipboard close to his chest.
“Good afternoon,” he said, hoarse and crackly with age. “I’m Dr. Selden.”
“It’s about time. I need something for pain. My shoulder is killing me.”
“I hadn’t expected you to be so vibrant, but yes, I promise, we’ll get to that. I have questions and forms for you to sign before I can administer meds.” He approached the bed.
“I have questions too.” Zoey clicked a green switch and the bed buzzed while elevating her upper body. “What the hell happened to me?”
“You don’t remember?”
“That’s why I asked.”
A heavyset Asian nurse with shiny black hair, cut to her jawline, rushed in and adjusted the IV drip. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Nurse Chong. How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” Zoey said.
Dr. Selden put his pen to the clipboard. “Describe the pain, is it throbbing, biting, piercing, burning…”
“I hurt all over. Was I beat with a bat? Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“You hurt all over. Can you be more descriptive?” Nurse Chong asked. “We’re not mind readers.”
“Neither am I,” Zoey snapped. “I’m in a hospital, bandaged, and in severe fucking pain and no one will tell me why. I won’t cooperate until I get answers.” Talking grated her throat and she clutched her neck.
Nurse Chong shook her head. “Have some water.” She filled a paper cup and then passed it to Zoey. “Careful. Don’t choke.”
“I’ll do my best.” Zoey gritted her teeth. She raised the rim to her lips and sipped. The flame in her esophagus subsided, but the pain in her shoulder drilled clear to the bone.
“Do you know if you’re allergic to any medications?” Dr. Selden asked.
“That’s a stupid question. Of course I know. I have no allergies whatsoever.”
“Nurse Chong,” Dr. Selden said, “would you please get our patient 600 milligrams of ibuprofen and Valium, 10 milligrams, to help her relax?”
The nurse rolled the IV post closer to the wall and addressed Zoey. “You’re a very lucky person.” Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked as she scuttled out of the room.
“What does she mean, lucky?” Zoey set her cup on the side table.
“First the necessities,” he said, holding his pen tightly. “Zoey Hawthorne, is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“Birth date?”
“November sixth, 1970.”
“Where were you born?”
“Chicago.”
“What day is it?”
“Depends on how long I’ve been asleep. I moved into my uncle’s house—”
“The Rayfield Ranch?”
“Yes, on Saturday. Saturday night I saw something in the woods, a large raccoon or stray dog, and today I wake up in a hospital. You tell me, what day is it?”
“Sunday, four o’clock.” He scribbled for a few seconds. “Interesting. No memory loss?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I wouldn’t remember what I’d forgotten, would I?”
“I suppose not. Do you remember the accident?”
“What accident?”
“Any other loss of memory?”
“No. Not to my knowledge. I’m divorced. I’m a photographer, or was—I closed my studio last year. And that’s none of your business.” Her pulse raced. “What fucking accident?”
Dr. Selden retracted his ballpoint and stuck it in his breast pocket. “It appears, Ms. Hawthorne, you’ve been struck by lightning.”
“What?”
“You have all the indications.”
“You’re shitting me?”
Dr. Selden shrank. “No. I’m not. I apologize for withholding information. Some folks think a lightning strike is the disciplinary action of God. I get the sense you’re not one of those people. I didn’t want you to feel punished.”
“Too late. I’ve had my universal spanking and it had nothing to do with the elements. How do you know what happened to me, anyway? You weren’t there.”
“You have Lichtenberg figures on your back. Fern-like patterns pathognomonic of lightning strikes.”
“On my back? Why is my shoulder bandaged?”
“Lightning struck your shoulder. You sustained a second-degree burn. We’re not sure why Lichtenberg figures develop on other areas of the body, but they’re painless and usually fade in a week or so. Factoring in weather conditions and the plum-sized occipital hematoma, I’ve determined it was a direct strike. Getting hit by lightning is atypical—getting hit directly and surviving is a miracle.”
That was poignant enough for her to forgive the furious pain, but then the visions came, quick and streamlined—the blazing punch, soaring above ground, hitting dirt. She flinched.
“What now?” she asked, afraid of doubling up on nightmares.
“Good question.” Dr. Selden walked to the window, tugged on a closed blind panel and peeked outside. The aluminum made a tinny noise like the gentle crush of a discarded beer can. “I’m not sure any of us know what to expect.” He released the panel and paused, seeming to sort his thoughts. “In my forty years of practice, I’ve handled three lightning cases.” He turned and came to her bedside, his breath smelling of bitter coffee. “I’ve since learned that makes me an expert.”
Zoey rested her left arm on the side rail and listened intensely.
“Of the three cases, two were victims of a secondary discharge, meaning lightning ricocheted off an inanimate object and struck the individuals. Of these two victims, one man suffered immediate cardiopulmonary arrest and died. The other, a friend of a friend, was thrown twenty feet across a golf course. He sustained spinal cord injuries. He’s paralyzed.”
Zoey’s heart stomped. “You said you’ve seen three cases.”
“You’re the third. What I’m alluding to is, under the circumstances, you’re in incredible condition.” He scratched his milky cheek. “Lightning ranges between twenty million and one billion volts. To put that in perspective, a police Taser has two million volts. We’ll never know what voltage struck you, and granted we have further tests to run, but it appears Nurse Chong was correct. You’re a very lucky woman.”
“Forgive me if I don’t pop open the champagne. I have a migraine, and I’m pretty certain wee little organisms are roasting marshmallows in my veins. Did Nurse Chong get lost?”
“It’s imperative you try to relax. If you want my professional opinion, you’re in a fragile state. Unfortunately your injuries could be extensive. Nurse Chong will be here shortly.” Dr. Selden extracted his pen, and positioned to write. “So, you’re a relative of Amos Rayfield?”
“Great niece.”
“I didn’t know Amos had family.”
“His family didn’t know they had an Amos. He and my grandmother were estranged.”
“I see.” Dr. Selden jotted, and continued, “Amos Rayfield, quintessential loner. Nevertheless, his suicide stunned me. He wasn’t the type.”
“To what, hang himself?” Zoey said, physically uncomfortable and too sober to discuss death. “Life kicks our asses. Either we fight back or we don’t. Maybe Amos had enough bullshit, because frankly, stick a fork in me, you know?”
“As I said, he wasn’t the type.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Dr. Selden chuckled. “Bogeymen under the bed and monsters in the closet? They were hiding from Amos. I’ve known a few tough old birds in my time, but Amos was by far the toughest. It’s hard to comprehend what could have driven an ornery son-of-a-gun like Amos Rayfield to end his life.”
“You’re an MD. You’ve met the Grim Reaper. He’s a sneaky prick.”
Dr. Selden nodded sorrowfully. “Right you are, Ms. Hawthorne.”
“Where am I? I mean this place, the hospital?”
“Monroe Memorial in Telluride.”
“How’d I get here?”
“Your neighbor, Kane Ballentine. He stopped by your place on his way home. It was drizzling and your door was wide open. He found you near the woods and brought you to the emergency room.”
“Kind of late for an uninvited visitor.”
“Yes, well, fortunately for you, Kane keeps inconsistent hours. Not uncommon for a man of his stature. He directs a long list of charity events and has real estate circling the globe.” Dr. Selden lowered the clipboard. “You’re new in town. He was going to leave a note on your car with his telephone number if you should have needed anything.”
“That’s what I’d do. Scare the crap out of a woman in the middle of the night. Where is Nurse Chong? My arm is raging.”
“She’s on her way,” Dr. Selden insisted. “Kane Ballentine is third generation in Big Cat Canyon, and a single father to a daughter. I’d bet my savings account he meant you no harm.”
“Save your bets for casinos. People can’t be trusted.”
“When I was a young boy…”
“Say it isn’t so, Doc. You’re not really going to reminisce while I suffer?”
“Would you consider yourself to be an abrasive person?”
“You wouldn’t ask me that if I were a man.”
His eyes popped. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to criticize my patients. The question, Ms. Hawthorne, is relevant to the incident. Lightning tends to affect temperament. Survivors are known to be volatile. I’m merely trying to determine the best course of treatment.” He exhaled in apparent frustration. “Now, do you consider yourself more abrasive than usual?
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Were you always—”
“What, outspoken, honest, gritty? I don’t know.” She quieted a moment and organized the floating jigsaw in her head. “My body hurts so bad I could vomit. My son died last year in a freak accident, and here I am a little over a year later recovering from a lightning strike. Be honest. What are the odds?”
“One in four hundred thousand.”
“One in four hundred thousand. Forgive me, but I’m metaphysically frazzled, and in desperate need of a painkiller. Under the circumstances I am not being difficult.”
Dr. Selden smiled. “That has yet to be determined.”
Zoey wanted to wring his turkey neck, but wanted something for pain more. Angering the man with the meds could be detrimental to her health. She leaned forward, moved her long hair from the sandwich of mattress and backside, and draped the tangled strands over her gauzed shoulder. “What’s next?”
“Paperwork and tests.”
“What kind of tests?”
“The standards. Also an MRI, EEG, and I’d like you to have a session with a neuropsychologist. We have to check the anatomic and cognitive functioning of your brain.”
“My brain? What’s wrong with my brain?” she asked, stifling a screech.
“Hopefully nothing.” He scribbled on his pad. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you’re fine.”
Nurse Chong reentered with a cup and a thermometer. Without gentle precaution she swiped Zoey’s forehead with the latest in medical technology. “102.”
“Are you currently taking medications?” Dr. Selden asked while writing.
“Cymbalta.”
“How much?”
“Ten milligrams.” That was all she’d admit to.
“And you’re sure you have no allergies.”
“I’m allergic to pain.” She licked her parched lips. “It makes me bitchy.”
Nurse Chong handed her a Dixie cup of heaven.
Zoey slanted the Dixie and swallowed the pills, crumpled the cup and dropped it on the floor.
Dr. Selden and Nurse Chong glared like strict librarians. She’d seen the look in the library when her cellphone rang during story time.
“What?” Zoey reached for the cup of water on the bedside table. “I’ll pick it up on my way out.”
Dr. Selden’s pen skidded across the paper. He muttered, “Oxacillin.” He ripped a prescription sheet from a smaller pad and passed it to Nurse Chong.
“Yes, doctor.” Nurse Chong leveled her shoulders and assimilated into the hectic hallway.
Dr. Selden clicked his ballpoint and put it in his pocket. “Do you have family members you’d like to call, or someone you’d like us to contact?”
Zoey pressed the button and flattened her bed. “Ha! No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Your decision,” he said. “Get some sleep, and I’ll check on you before shift change.” Dr. Selden turned abruptly and headed into the hall.
Zoey closed her eyes and attempted to ignore various debilitating emotions she’d had for the past year. No matter how hard she’d tried to snuff her thoughts, there’d always be sprigs of memory she couldn’t overlook. She wondered why her son couldn’t be recuperating in a hospital bed and she resting in peace. Nothing made sense. She wiped an irritating tear. She wanted to sleep but Nurse Chong would rattle her when she returned with the antibiotics.
“How long does it take? She’s got her head in her ass again.”
Damn Nurse Chong.
* * * *
Zoey awoke less impassioned, her mind and body suspended in an unnatural state of calm. A familiar figure stood nearby. She rubbed the sand from her eyes and spotted the IV buried in her vein. She remembered.
“You’ve been asleep almost fifteen hours,” Dr. Selden said. “How do you feel?”
She felt blank. “Fine, I think.” She swallowed. “Did you say I slept fifteen hours?”
“Yes. You’ve rendered this ward speechless.”
She smacked her gummy tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Why?”
“Temperature is normal, heart rate is normal.” He tapped his chin with the pen. “And we’ve changed the dressing on your wound twice. Sunday you had three pea-sized blisters in the center of your burn. As of an hour ago, they’re gone.”
“My burn healed?”
“Not entirely, you still have a second-degree burn. But typically blisters take much longer to repair. Are you still in pain?”
“I don’t know. I can’t feel anything but a full bladder.”
“I’ll call a nurse.”
“No.” She elevated the bed. “I’m okay.” Zoey inched off the mattress and stood, holding the IV post. She waited for her lightheadedness to pass and her legs to stop trembling. Her gown stuck to her back in a paste of sweat, and she pulled the material from her skin before stepping carefully toward the bathroom.
Woman in the water.
“What?” Zoey turned and faced Dr. Selden, who was engrossed in his clipboard writings.
He lifted his head and raised one eyebrow.
“Did you say something about water?”
“I haven’t said anything. What did you hear?”
“Nothing.” Of course, nothing. She took a step and froze. She’d slept fifteen hours without a nightmare. Was this it, she wondered, when Milo slipped into the recesses of her mind, forcing her to forget? Fear knotted in her chest. She would not forget.
She shuffled to and from the restroom without complications and crawled into bed, wincing when she twisted her bad shoulder.
Dr. Selden leaped forward, prepared for an emergency.
“I’m fine, really.” She clamped the covers under her armpits, closed her eyes and willed the spasms gone.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being average and ten excruciating, how bad is the pain?” he asked.
She smiled, thinking if he knew the extent of her internal wreckage he’d realize her wounds were permanent and he’d send her home. “Eight.” She turned her head toward him and stared at his squinting face. “I could use another pain pill.”
“Sure.” He wrote again, his pen and pad seeming like an extra set of appendages. “The nurse will bring more meds in a few minutes. What about your throat?”
“What about it?”
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little, but nothing I can’t live with. La-la-la-la-la!”
“Very good,” he said.
Woman in the water.
“What did you say?”
Dr. Selden offered a bewildered expression.
“You didn’t just mutter something about water?”
He shook his head.
“I distinctly heard someone say something about water.”
“Interesting.” He paused. “Perhaps you overheard a conversation while you were asleep, and your memory is releasing it now. A type of dream echo.”
“There was a discussion about water here in my room?”
“Not necessarily. You’ll read about the death in the paper, so I’ll go ahead and tell you. I was checking your pulse and Dr. Hicks came by to inform me we’d lost a patient. A teenage boy who’d broke his neck in the river that runs behind your house. I’m sure one of us mentioned water during the discussion.”
“What was the boy doing in the river?”
“Rafting. Rafts and kayaks navigate that river all summer long. I’ve kayaked Coldstone many times myself. Hell of a ride. Fifteen-foot drops and sharp undercuts, definitely an adventure. Magnificent scenery too. Unfortunately, in the past few months there’ve been a rash of accidents and two deaths.”
“The Grim Reaper never rests,” she uttered. “I’m sure you’re right—about the water—about your conversation carrying over.”
“Hmm.”
“Can I share something personal with you?” she asked.
“Why, yes.”
“I haven’t had a single nightmare since I’ve been here.”
“Come again?”
“I’ve relived my son’s death every night for over a year. Never fails. I dream it, but it’s less like a dream and more like a skipping moment in time. It’s damaged me, pretty much destroyed my life. And now, nothing. I’m not sure how I feel about it. To be honest it kind of fucking terrifies me. What if I forget him? And what am I supposed to do with my nights now, sleep? I don’t know if I can do that guilt-free.”
“I’m not sure I’m the right ears. In my line of business, we bid farewell to a patient and just as we grab a handkerchief, we’re rejuvenated by a newborn. Ready or not, life goes on.”
“Wow. You’re not even a tiny bit helpful.”
“I’ll refer you to a competent psychiatrist. He’s not far—”
“No thank you. I don’t need a goddamn shrink, I need another Valium, or something stronger. That’d be nice.”
“Funny thing about what we think we need. My second year of college…”
“I’m not an audience member, Dr. Selden. I’m a patient. Patients need meds.”
“You’re positive you aren’t feeling abnormally short-fused or hot-tempered?”
“Yes, I probably am. I’m dealing with another inept nurse. This isn’t a hospital, it’s a joke. That’s what it is, and she is, and you are, a motherfucking joke!”
Dr. Selden’s pen danced swiftly across the pad.
“What are you writing?”
“I’m diagnosing you with volatility attributable to the lightning strike.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not volatile, and if I were, psychology isn’t your area of expertise.”
“Make no mistake, doctor, she’s volatile,” a man with a deep voice bellowed from just outside the doorframe. “Only it has nothing to do with lightning. She was mean before she got struck.” He entered the room. “Ever since our son died.”
