STERLING

 

Tuesday January 14 - 0229 CST

One day until Turbocharger activates

 

Adam's face had taken on worryingly grim tone. I was beginning to regret my decision to show him the man that had just come into the ER. When I was Adam's age, like all men that age, I was a little more impulsive in my decisions and a little more prone to settle differences with my fists than I am now. The trouble with overlooking these things with Adam was that his fists were a lot larger than an ordinary man's. Letting him off the leash would cause more than a black eye and bruised ego, and I didn't want that on my conscience or on Adam's permanent record.

Sheriff Dubois waved off the deputy posted at the door to the operating room. "They're with me. Let 'em through, Jerry."

The deputy stood aside and we strode into the OR that looked just like every other OR in the world. Bright lights, people in scrubs surrounding a table, someone on said table being worked on. One of the scrubs looked up at us. "We're in the middle of surgery. You need to leave."

One of the other scrubs moved to herd us out of the room but I stopped her with my fake FBI creds held high. "We're federal agents and just need a moment. Then we'll be out of your hair."

The scrub looked at Sheriff Dubois to side with her and get the unwashed intruders out of her OR. Dubois nodded. "We just need a sec to look at your patient. That's all."

The first scrub, presumably the surgeon, threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine. But please be quick. The longer you're here the more we risk infection."

That surgeon didn't seem to understand that the well being of the piece of trash on his table wasn't exactly our highest concern. As I circled around the table I saw the full extent of the man's injuries. Three pinky sized holes decorated his bare chest. But there was so much blood, both fresh and dried, that there may have been more hidden. It was a testament to Gunny Lively's gunfighting skills that even while he was being pounded into near death he could get accurate shots on target.

But I didn't care about that. What was important to me was confirmation that this was our man, and that lay at his feet. Taking care not to touch the bloodied part of the blanket-like shroud covering the patient's lower body, I drew up just enough to see his feet. He had on only one shoe, and that shoe was a bright red high top sneaker.

I nodded at Adam and watched with worry as his fists balled up into sledgehammers. In the still air the popping of knuckles was like carrots being snapped in two. But to Adam's credit he didn't tear the head off the patient on the table. He just let out a long breath. "Sir, I think I should wait outside."

Then he turned on his heels and marched out of the OR. We all breathed a sigh of relief then, because none of us could have stopped him from breaking the patient's neck if he charged in.

I looked over at the surgeon then. "We got what we needed. He's the reason our colleague is also in this hospital tonight."

The surgeon put his hands on his hips, obviously unimpressed with my words. "Your colleague certainly did a number on my patient."

I nodded in agreement. "I would have been surprised if he didn't."

Then Sheriff Dubois and I left the surgeon to save a life not worth saving.