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.Weppo, as Andy LaMarche had explained the boy was to be called, did not lack energy, even after his ordeal in some mountain shack.Rudy tried to remember if there'd ever been a famous deaf quarterback.The way the kid handled the little Nerf ball was something to see.Good manual dexterity.A good eye.And the big grin he'd given Rudy the first time he caught the ball was worth a hundred times the special-duty pay Rudy would get for monitoring vital signs all night.By 11:30 p.m.all was silent except for the faint buzz of the PA system and occasional hushed voices from the nurses' station.The night shift would be charting, recording the day's vital signs, medications, and reactions on the proper forms.Each shift was supposed to do its own charting, but during the day there was never time.Between rounds and the administering of medications, the night staff would chart all night unless there was an emergency.Rudy flexed his right foot wedged under the mattress and decided to rock his patient until after 12:00 meds when the nurse would come again.If the vital signs remained stable, he'd put the boy back in bed for the night.Leaning his head against the back of the rocker, Rudy breathed easily and stared at the rectangle of light marking the placement of the door in the wall.Everything was quiet.But he wouldn't fall asleep.He'd never let himself fall asleep even on the easiest night duty.And the discomfort of his foot helped.It was a good start on a quiet night.Almost.Something was going on in the hall—an anomalous collection of shadows blurring the outline of the door frame.Somebody standing there.Or two people standing there.But why? There was no family to visit this nameless child.After twenty-five years as a corpsman and then a civilian medical attendant, Rudy was used to hospital routine, hospital normalcy.A bamboo hut or high-tech teaching hospital in a big city, it was all the same.Staff who had reason to come into a room in the middle of the night did so quickly.The medications, injections, vital signs, turnings, and linen changes all done quickly.Nobody would just stand outside a door.Probably a late-night confab between relatives of some other kid on the floor, Rudy decided.So why didn't they go up the hall to the visitors' lounge?Rudy felt a tingling in the large muscles of his legs.A slightly faster heartbeat.He was throwing a little adrenaline in response to the whispering shadows outside Weppo's door.Ridiculous, but the brain will do that, especially at night when it responds to memories of threats long extinct.Rudy knew that, but watched the door closely anyway.The threads of light widened as it opened.Later Rudy would describe two men standing there, momentarily confused by the darkness and the empty bed.The figures were backlit from the hall, mere silhouettes.One appeared stocky, the other shorter, and thin.They turned toward Rudy and the boy.Rudy remained silent, watching.Whoever they were, they didn't seem to know what the hell they were doing.“Aw, fuck!” the shorter one drawled, and pushed the thick one aside.He seemed nervous, in a hurry.Then he pulled something from under his jacket.Something dully silver reflecting the hall light, with a black cylinder attached to it.In less than a second, thirty years of experience, countless nights in jungle muck trusting nothing beyond his field of vision, registered in Rudy Palachek.With his right foot he pushed hard against the empty hospital bed.It was a gun, he realized just before the chair went over.It was pointed at the sleeping child in his arms!A muffled pop, like a truck tire blowing out under water.The chair splintered under his back as it fell.The child began to scream his peculiar scream as running footsteps filled the hall outside.“Hey! What's going on?”It was the orderly, running past the door of 323 toward the stairs.His voice, Rudy noticed, was shrill with fear, but it hadn't stopped him from doing his job.Then another shot.Children crying.A woman screaming “Oh, my God!” over and over in the hall.A nurse appeared at the door of 323 and switched on the lights, followed closely by a bewildered security guard.The nurse went pale and then regained her color as Rudy rolled out of the splintered rocker and got to his feet.He still held the screaming child, petting the wiry hair, humming so the boy could feel the sound.Rudy clenched his teeth over mute rage.“Call LaMarche,” he told the nurse.“And seal this room until the police get here.”A jagged crater disfigured the wall behind him.Rudy looked at it with distaste, and then with renewed fear.In the seven-inch crater was the barest silvery film.Its almost imperceptible sheen caught the light and glistened.Rudy shuddered.The guy had meant business.The sick bastard son of a bitch was a bona fide killer.The silver sheen, Rudy Palachek knew, was mercury.A hollow-point bullet packed at the tip with a poison so toxic to the human nervous system that a flesh wound could kill.And the deadly package had missed them both by less than two inches.10 - Another Bad NightSomething woke Bo, although she couldn't identify it immediately.An odorous ringing.Her bedroom smelled like colcannon, the buttery combination of potatoes, cabbage, onions, and cream that her grandmother had loved to concoct.The scent washed her in nostalgia.And it kept ringing.Bo shook her head.Nobody'd cooked colcannon for her in fifteen years.And the ringing was a phone!She'd gone by the university psychiatric clinic late in the afternoon.Had the initial bloodwork done, got the lithium.It was a safety net, and she'd decided she needed it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Weppo, as Andy LaMarche had explained the boy was to be called, did not lack energy, even after his ordeal in some mountain shack.Rudy tried to remember if there'd ever been a famous deaf quarterback.The way the kid handled the little Nerf ball was something to see.Good manual dexterity.A good eye.And the big grin he'd given Rudy the first time he caught the ball was worth a hundred times the special-duty pay Rudy would get for monitoring vital signs all night.By 11:30 p.m.all was silent except for the faint buzz of the PA system and occasional hushed voices from the nurses' station.The night shift would be charting, recording the day's vital signs, medications, and reactions on the proper forms.Each shift was supposed to do its own charting, but during the day there was never time.Between rounds and the administering of medications, the night staff would chart all night unless there was an emergency.Rudy flexed his right foot wedged under the mattress and decided to rock his patient until after 12:00 meds when the nurse would come again.If the vital signs remained stable, he'd put the boy back in bed for the night.Leaning his head against the back of the rocker, Rudy breathed easily and stared at the rectangle of light marking the placement of the door in the wall.Everything was quiet.But he wouldn't fall asleep.He'd never let himself fall asleep even on the easiest night duty.And the discomfort of his foot helped.It was a good start on a quiet night.Almost.Something was going on in the hall—an anomalous collection of shadows blurring the outline of the door frame.Somebody standing there.Or two people standing there.But why? There was no family to visit this nameless child.After twenty-five years as a corpsman and then a civilian medical attendant, Rudy was used to hospital routine, hospital normalcy.A bamboo hut or high-tech teaching hospital in a big city, it was all the same.Staff who had reason to come into a room in the middle of the night did so quickly.The medications, injections, vital signs, turnings, and linen changes all done quickly.Nobody would just stand outside a door.Probably a late-night confab between relatives of some other kid on the floor, Rudy decided.So why didn't they go up the hall to the visitors' lounge?Rudy felt a tingling in the large muscles of his legs.A slightly faster heartbeat.He was throwing a little adrenaline in response to the whispering shadows outside Weppo's door.Ridiculous, but the brain will do that, especially at night when it responds to memories of threats long extinct.Rudy knew that, but watched the door closely anyway.The threads of light widened as it opened.Later Rudy would describe two men standing there, momentarily confused by the darkness and the empty bed.The figures were backlit from the hall, mere silhouettes.One appeared stocky, the other shorter, and thin.They turned toward Rudy and the boy.Rudy remained silent, watching.Whoever they were, they didn't seem to know what the hell they were doing.“Aw, fuck!” the shorter one drawled, and pushed the thick one aside.He seemed nervous, in a hurry.Then he pulled something from under his jacket.Something dully silver reflecting the hall light, with a black cylinder attached to it.In less than a second, thirty years of experience, countless nights in jungle muck trusting nothing beyond his field of vision, registered in Rudy Palachek.With his right foot he pushed hard against the empty hospital bed.It was a gun, he realized just before the chair went over.It was pointed at the sleeping child in his arms!A muffled pop, like a truck tire blowing out under water.The chair splintered under his back as it fell.The child began to scream his peculiar scream as running footsteps filled the hall outside.“Hey! What's going on?”It was the orderly, running past the door of 323 toward the stairs.His voice, Rudy noticed, was shrill with fear, but it hadn't stopped him from doing his job.Then another shot.Children crying.A woman screaming “Oh, my God!” over and over in the hall.A nurse appeared at the door of 323 and switched on the lights, followed closely by a bewildered security guard.The nurse went pale and then regained her color as Rudy rolled out of the splintered rocker and got to his feet.He still held the screaming child, petting the wiry hair, humming so the boy could feel the sound.Rudy clenched his teeth over mute rage.“Call LaMarche,” he told the nurse.“And seal this room until the police get here.”A jagged crater disfigured the wall behind him.Rudy looked at it with distaste, and then with renewed fear.In the seven-inch crater was the barest silvery film.Its almost imperceptible sheen caught the light and glistened.Rudy shuddered.The guy had meant business.The sick bastard son of a bitch was a bona fide killer.The silver sheen, Rudy Palachek knew, was mercury.A hollow-point bullet packed at the tip with a poison so toxic to the human nervous system that a flesh wound could kill.And the deadly package had missed them both by less than two inches.10 - Another Bad NightSomething woke Bo, although she couldn't identify it immediately.An odorous ringing.Her bedroom smelled like colcannon, the buttery combination of potatoes, cabbage, onions, and cream that her grandmother had loved to concoct.The scent washed her in nostalgia.And it kept ringing.Bo shook her head.Nobody'd cooked colcannon for her in fifteen years.And the ringing was a phone!She'd gone by the university psychiatric clinic late in the afternoon.Had the initial bloodwork done, got the lithium.It was a safety net, and she'd decided she needed it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]