Chapter Twenty-Six

 

The fluorescent light colored the inside of his eyelids red. AJ’s eyes fluttered open. Grandpa slumped in the chair beside his bed, cheek sliding against his palm, eyes closed.

A tube ran from AJ’s wrist to a bag hanging on a rack by his bed.

His clothes. He had to find his clothes and get to the beach. To the rocks. Make sure she was all right.

His grandfather jerked awake. “AJ. How are you feeling?”

His voice came out as a croak, as if someone had punched him. “Great. Help me get dressed, will you?”

Grandpa sighed. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

“I have to.” AJ pulled on the bed rail, but could only slide himself sideways, not up.

Grandpa leapt up, his hands pushed lightly back so that AJ lay flat. He pushed the buzzer on the remote, then straightened AJ on the pillow. “You’ll do no one any good if you bleed to death. Rest. Everything will be all right.”

“But I have to…” AJ couldn’t seem to close his grip around the rail.

Footsteps sounded, and a nurse came to his bedside.

“A little more painkiller, please,” Grandpa asked.

AJ groaned. Painkiller would be good. But wouldn’t it knock him out? He felt a rush through his bloodstream, and opened his mouth, but words came out in a mushy jumble.

He heard Grandpa tell the nurse, “He says thank you.” The vinyl chair beside the bed crunched with Grandpa’s weight.

AJ floated into darkness again.