morphine at this stage could kill him.' He reached for a pair of forceps. 'Now, shut your yap and give me a sponge.'
He infiltrated the area with an anesthetic solution, then clamped the sponge into the forceps and began to clean the wounds.
Aaron was beginning to regain consciousness and he jerked violently after a particularly deep probe.
'Hold him…' Needles said.
Beeks leaned in and put his weight into it. 'Bang the son-of-a-bitch, man…'
'Not yet,' Needles said, redoubling his efforts. 'Just another minute…'
Another deep probe and Aaron screamed. Beeks looked at Needles like he was some sort of sadistic Nazi.
'I know, okay?' Needles said, reaching for the prepared syringe. He injected the morphine directly into a vein on the inside of Aaron's arm and monitored the boy's pulse as he drifted back into semi-consciousness.
– Needles finished with antibiotic ointment and clean, dry-gauze bandages. Then he stepped back and pulled off his gloves, exhausted by the effort.
'Is he gonna live?' Beeks asked doubtfully.
'It's hard to say,' Needles replied. 'The bullet passed through cleanly and missed his lung — and no bones or large vessels were hit… but he lost a lot of blood. We'll have to see.'
Beeks gathered Aaron up in his arms and carried him to the sofa and laid him down. Needles wiped down the operating table with soapy rags and dropped them into a trash bag along with the blood soaked towels. He walked over to where Beeks was sitting on the sofa with the boy. Beeks had covered Aaron with a blanket. Needles tucked it up under the boy's chin.
'Why do you care so much 'bout this boy, anyways?' Beeks asked, genuinely curious.
Needless looked at Beeks, then at Aaron, and thought for a moment. 'I'm not quite sure…'
'I knows the feelin',' Beeks said.
'Maybe it's because that's what doctors do,' Needles said. 'Or maybe it's because in today's world, good people are in short supply.'
He checked his watch. 1 p.m. Then he laid his hand on Aaron's head and said, 'Sleep well my young friend.'
Chapter 41
The sun was slowly melting in the west, and the huge steel-sided cannery glowed, as if it had been heated to a high temperature. Willy rode up and skidded to a stop out front. He peeked in through the secret entrance and listened for a moment… then ducked inside, pulling his bike in after him.
As he had hoped, his sweatshirt still lay over Aaron's bike seat where he left it. He grabbed it, and as he turned to leave he heard a faint moaning sound that sent a chill through him. He stopped and listened… but as quickly as it had come, it was gone. His best guess was that the sound had come from the break room, so he stepped quietly over to investigate.
He peered into the room, straining to see in the limited light. It appeared to be vacant. But as he turned to go he saw something that made the hair on his arms stand on end. Shoved up against one wall was the familiar old maroon-velvet sofa, but lying prone along its length he saw a shadowy figure. Panic leaped in him, accelerating his heartbeat, and he breathed in deeply, fighting off a strong urge to turn and run.
He took a step closer to the mysterious form and refocused his eyes. To his astonishment he saw that the ominous death figure on the couch was none other than his best friend, Aaron Quinn.
– Willy lit a lantern and set it on the table. Aaron appeared to be asleep, and, in the lamplight, looked even more frightening than he had in the dark. Willy knelt at his side and spoke to him in a low, cautious voice.
'Aaron?' he said. 'Aaron, it's me… it's Willy. Are you okay?'
Aaron didn't budge. Willy put his ear to Aaron's lips and detected a wisp of breath. He gently stirred him with his finger. Aaron slowly opened his eyes, and at that moment there was no one on earth he would have rather seen. He reached out his hand to his friend and spoke just above a whisper.
'Willy…'
Willy squeezed Aaron's hand and said, 'You're one butt-ugly bugger, you know.'
Aaron wanted to laugh, but only smiled. He was in agony. 'It hurts bad, Willy.'
Willy noticed Aaron's bandaged shoulder peeking out from under the blanket. He eased the blanket down a few inches and the extent of the damage came into view.
'What in bleeding hell happened to you?' he asked.
Embarrassed, Aaron hesitated then replied bluntly, 'I got shot.'
Willy hesitated. ' Shot…?' he cried. 'Damn it, Aaron… I saw you escape from that guy. What happened? Did he come after you?'
Aaron paused, his head throbbing. It was difficult for him to recall the correct sequence of events.
At last he said, 'We were robbing a bank, and I — '
'Wait a second… Did you say you were robbing a bank? '
'Yes,' Aaron replied sheepishly.
Willy wanted to scream. ' What? '
Aaron fought back tears as his shameful confession poured out. 'I joined up with them, Willy. They kidnapped me… a-and I tried to escape… then my mom called… and I joined their gang and made masks… a-and we drank whiskey and robbed Community Plaza Bank in jumpsuits — and they shot me.'
This was too much for Willy. He forgot all about Aaron's weakened condition and laid into him. 'You stupid sod,' he said. 'I heard about that robbery… someone died during that!'
Aaron knew this, of course. 'I know,' he admitted sadly.
'I can't believe this is happening,' Willy said looking around. 'You've done some barmy-ass shit before, Aaron. But this — this takes the bloody freakin' cake.'
He turned and took a few steps away… then returned. 'You know what? If you don't die from being shot, I'll kill you myself.' He went to the sink for a glass of water. He was totally knackered.
Aaron wanted desperately for Willy to understand and forgive him. 'I don't know how I got mixed up in all this,' he said. 'But it happened, okay?… and I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry.'
'You should be,' Willy said gruffly, his back to Aaron. 'Shit…'
Aaron glanced at the clock over the stove. 5:30 p.m. He tried to sit up, but it hurt too much and he flopped back down clenching his teeth.
'I have to go to Sally's Diner tonight,' he said, sweating, now.
'Yeah, right,' Willy said, uninterested. 'You can't even sit up.'
Aaron felt himself entering the early stages of panic. He made two fists, struggling to keep his head clear. 'I have to do something,' he said, 'or he'll kill her.'
Willy turned and looked at him. 'What the bloody hell are you talking about? Kill who?'
'My mom!'
'What? Who will?'
'Damn it, Willy… don't you ever listen? Johnny Souther! The guy I robbed the damn bank with. The guy who shot me for cryin' out loud.' He coughed hard into his hand, and there was blood. 'They're meeting at Sally's Diner tonight at 6:30. She's trading herself for me! '
He pointed urgently at a small plastic trash can sitting on the floor under the table. Willy grabbed it and handed it to him. Aaron clutched the container to his chest and wretched. Then he continued.
'She's seen his face, Willy. She saw him kill Tom. He'll hurt her. I know he wants to hurt her!' He began to shiver and Willy pulled the blanket up to cover him.
'Here, try to drink,' Willy said, trading the trash can for the glass of water.
Aaron managed a few sips, then wiped his mouth and eyes on his sleeve and gathered himself for a
