It was as though only a few seconds had passed when Xander opened his eyes again. His body swayed as if he was still on the boat on the Nile. Only instead of fish, it was now the sterile scent of alcohol that assaulted his senses. Slowly, the bright room came into focus. Above him, the white-now-yellowed ceiling paint cracked and peeled. A soft beep iterated at his side. He lifted one hand to his head, his elbow joint twinging, and he rubbed his temple to soothe the pounding in his head.
What just happened?
He swallowed but his mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton. A glass of water would be nice.
It took some effort to sit up, his back and arms ached, though the discomfort couldn’t compare to the sharp pains shooting through his skull. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and fire shot up and down his left leg. He groaned and shut his eyes.
So this is what it feels like to be hit by a lorry.
After filling his lungs to full capacity with a few deep inhales, he opened his eyes again and studied the IV tube sticking in his arm. The events of the night before came back to him. The phone call, the meeting, jumping off the bridge, the woman injecting him with who-knew-what. Whatever, he was alive and well—aside from the splitting headache. It didn’t matter. The woman had told him exactly where to find Leila. Now every minute spent in bed was a minute wasted.
He saw a flash of green from the corner of his eye. His gaze shot up as a scrubs-clad man strode into the room. Another man wearing a long white coat entered behind him, clipboard in hand. The nurse pushed down on Xander’s shoulders. His spine gave in way too easily and he flopped back on the bed.
“You need to be resting,” said the man in white as the nurse set down a small, clear plastic cup on the bedside table, then twisted open a bottle of water.
“You’ve had a rough time,” the doctor continued, lowering the clipboard. “We found high levels of gamma hydroxybutyrate, a central nervous system depressant, in your blood. Plus there were traces of the sedative zolpidem. That combination knocked you out pretty good. Take a deep breath for me.”
Xander twitched as the cold diaphragm of a stethoscope touched his chest.
The doctor listened quietly for a moment, then went on as he removed the stethoscope earpieces. “You also received a cut to your left femoral artery and suffered heavy blood loss, which required us to keep you in a medically induced coma after surgery until you were stabilized—”
“A what?” Xander sat back up. “A coma? How long have I been here?” His pulse raced. This couldn’t be happening. Was he too late?
“Two days.”
Xander swore. “Where are my discharge papers?”
“Discharge papers? You’re not ready for that.”
“I’m in the middle of a police investigation.” He tried to stand again, despite the burning pain the movement caused, but the nurse pushed down on his shoulder. He plopped back onto the bed.
The nurse lifted his feet onto the mattress and Xander seethed as the sharp pain cut deeper into his leg.
Seemingly oblivious, the doctor continued to check his vitals. When finished, he pointed at the plastic cup on the table.
“I think you’ll be needing those,” he said, then glanced down, scribbling something on his clipboard.
Xander sighed and reached for the water bottle and cup, the pills rattling as he took it in his hand. A quick glance at the contents told him the tablets inside were painkillers—hopefully strong ones—and after a few tries he managed to swallow them down.
“You’ll stay here for a day for observation, then we can see about your release forms.” The doctor clicked the top of his pen with his thumb.
“A day?” Xander groaned. “I have to leave now.”
Doc frowned, disapproval written all over his face. “A lot of people say that.”
“Look. This is urgent. This is a police investigation we’re talking about. A matter of life and death. I don’t need to be here, taking up space. I feel fine. Great.”
The doctor and the nurse exchanged skeptical glances. After a moment, Doc bobbed his head. “We’ll review your files. Sit tight for a few hours. Maybe we can let you go early.” With that he excused himself, the nurse trailing behind him.
Xander waited until the door clicked shut, then slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed again. He cringed and sucked in his breath as needles stabbed him up and down his leg.
The room spun, the furniture blurred. He rubbed his forehead, hung his head and waited for the swaying to stop. He’d been out for two days. Two. Whole. Days. Leila could be anywhere by now. Or dead.
No. She’s not dead. A hundred miles east. Near an oasis.
Someone knocked on the door. Xander lifted his head and straightened his shoulders. Wow, that was fast. He’d be out of here in minutes.
Then the door swung open and someone clattered into the room.
“What were you thinking?” a familiar voice shrieked.
Xander flinched at the high volume, the words reverberating like a screeching microphone. Squinting, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Good to see you, too, Emma.”
She paced at the foot of his bed, arms flailing. “What would Leila say if she saw you like this? Do you think this is helping her?” Her voice went up an octave and a few decibel points.
Xander placed a hand on his forehead to stop his skull from rattling.
“This”—a firmness returned to her voice—“this has got to stop before you kill yourself.”
“Emma,” Xander sighed, holding his head with both hands. If those painkillers would just kick in, that would be great. “I’m not going to stop. Not until I find her.”
“Or until you die.” She stopped pacing and stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed over her chest.
“I need to get out of here.” Xander planted his feet on the floor and attempted to stand. His head swam, his body tipping forward dangerously.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Emma grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Why don’t you tell me what happened first. I’ve heard a bit of what the police said, but I want your side.”
The dizziness ebbed away. “I found a lead.” He hesitated, undecided on how much he should tell her. But being Leila’s good friend, she had a right to know at least some of what he’d learned. “Leila is alive.”
“What?” Emma fell silent for one glorious moment.
“If I hadn’t been stuck here in a blasted coma I could have found her by now.”
“She’s alive?” Emma squealed. “And you know where she is?”
“Yes. Well. Not… exactly.” At least an idea was forming in his mind, now that the headache had improved slightly and he was able to think again. “But I know where to start looking. Do you see my phone anywhere?”
Emma shrugged, then opened the closet door near the bed and glanced inside, only to shake her head. “Nope. Don’t see it. I’ll ask at the nurse’s station if they’re holding on to it.” She turned back to Xander. “Where is she then?”
“She’s in the desert.”
“The desert.” Emma’s eyes and shoulders drooped. “You have to do better than that. It’s a gazillion miles wide and another gazillion miles long.”
“I’m well aware of that. I was given a more specific location. Could you please see about my phone? Right now?”
“Okay. Fine. But I want all the details when I get back,” she called as she marched out of the room.
Grateful for a moment of peace, he flung the thin blue sheets to the side and eased himself to his feet. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tested his wounded leg. The red-hot needle sensation throbbed for a moment, but not as badly as before. The painkillers must be doing their job.
He limped over to the closet, carefully tugging the IV along with him, where a stack of clothing lay folded on a shelf. Relieved that someone had thought to bring him something to change into, he tucked his clothes under one arm and hobbled into the bathroom.
It took some effort, but he managed to at least get his pants on. The hospital gown was going to have to stay on for a shirt until he could get the IV out. When he emerged from the restroom, Emma was already waiting in the chair across from the bed.
She shrugged and showed him her empty palms.
Great. Just great. “They don’t have it?”
“Nope. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Xander ran a hand through his hair. He needed that phone. What if Leila had tried to call? It could be sitting at the bottom of the Nile for all he knew. Maybe the police had found it. He’d ask later. Lowering himself onto the bed, he turned his mind back to Emma’s request.
“I can tell you, but only if you swear not to talk about it to others.”
Emma held up a hand and nodded. “I do solemnly swear.”
Quirky as she was, he couldn’t recall a time she had gone back on her word. The details would be safe with her. Before he could change his mind, he hurriedly explained his meeting on the bridge.
“She seemed… credible,” he said as he finished.
Emma stared at him with wide eyes. “You mean shady.” She blinked, then jumped to her feet. “But what other choice do we have? I’ve got a jeep and we can—”
Xander lifted his eyebrows. “We?”
“Yes. We.”
“Oh no, no, no—”
Emma crossed her arms. “I’m coming with you.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh please, Xander. You very clearly have control over this.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, you only spent two days in the hospital. It could have been ten—”
“What about your job? This excursion could take several days.”
Emma shrugged. “I can take vacation.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“No, duh.” Emma flailed her arms. “That’s why I should go. If you end up knocked out for three days in the desert, you’re a goner. You need backup.”
“What about uni? Don’t you have a colloquium coming up?”
“Already done.” Emma sighed and sat next to him on the bed. “Xander, going after Leila alone would be a mistake. She’s my friend, too. Let me help.”
“But that’s why I don’t want you to go. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you, too.” Xander looked at the ceiling. He shouldn’t have to feel responsible for Emma. He would be faster on his own, but without knowing where Leila’s kidnapper-rescuer-assassin was, or what she was up to exactly, there was still an immeasurable amount of danger. If something did happen to him out there, no one would know. And then he would fail Leila.
“All right.”
Emma leaped to her feet. “I’ll go get packing. Food, jeep, food, water, food, anything else?”
Xander shrugged. All he wanted was his girlfriend.
“Let me know if you think of anything,” Emma called over her shoulder as she grabbed her purse and rushed out of the room.
What was he thinking? He shook his head. He shouldn’t have told her so much. Too late for that now. He pressed the call button for the nurse. It was time to get out of there. And ask for a large prescription of painkillers.