Cash. God in heaven in all His majesty.
The lieutenant nodded to the nurse, and she checked my pulseagain before wheeling the chair out into the hall and down past doors andwindows to a bank of elevators. Wheeled me into one marked “Staff Only,” bigenough for a gurney or maybe a full hospital bed, plenty of room for thecolonel and lieutenant tagging along, I guess rank and uniforms got a pass atleast that far.
The elevator surged upward, I didn’t count the floors as theyflashed past, was having too much trouble keeping blood in my brain. Maybe Ishouldn’t have been sitting up. Doors opened and they wheeled me out intoanother hall.
Cash.
XVI
About this time, the whole thing started to get surreal onme. Even more surreal, that is, the explosion and the broken leg and workingmagic for just a bit too long and too hard, combining with the variouschemicals they’d poked through my hide or shoved down my throat. Wizards don’treact the same way as normal people to some sedatives and narcotics.
The nurse wheeled me into a small waiting room, parked thechair, and headed out to snag whatever doctor needed to talk to me. We waited,the two state brass-hats and me, wondering what the hell, dreading what the hell, the medics wanted me to decide about Cash.I could think of about ten ways for it, none of them good.
I sat there trying to make sense of Kratz setting bombs on twostate cop cars. The state cops stood there like grim starched Furies, exceptthat if I remember right, the Furies were all female.
Finally the door opened again and another set of green scrubswalked through the door, white male, green cap, surgical mask dangling aroundhis neck, clipboard, no ID. Guess they don’t wear those tags in surgery. Can’tsterilize them, or something.
He looked at the three of us, looked back at his clipboard,and then studied each of us in turn. He didn’t look like he’d found what heexpected.
“Is one of you Dr. John H. Patterson?”
I raised my hand. “That’s me.” I don’t advertise the PhD,bunch of pretentious hog slop, and Cash had no business parading it around on amedical form where “doctor” would mean something else entirely.
He did a bit of a double-take, not sure if it was the cast andwheelchair and hospital gown or my excess bulk. Then he glanced at the two copsand waved them toward the door.
“If you two officers would please leave, this involves medicalprivacy. Unless Dr. Patterson is under arrest?”
The colonel and lieutenant left. They didn’t want to, but theyleft. The doctor turned back to me, eyes narrowed.
“You are the John H.Patterson listed as next-of-kin for Nefertiti A. Cash? I’d expected . . .”
Oh, hell. Cash andher perverted sense of humor. The form probably had a pre-labeled space, andshe hadn’t bothered to change it.
“You’d expected someone darker? Cut the bullshit, doctor. Howis Nef?”
“Dr. Patterson, what is your relationship to the patient?”
One of those people.Just what I needed to add to a fun day. He had no right to ask that. You canlist anyone on a medical power of attorney. This guy was goosing myattitude almost exactly the same way Bycheck did. And the chemicals the ERpeople had shoved into my bloodstream weren’t helping my temper any.
“My relationship to Nefertiti Aswan Cash is that I’m theperson entered into that blank on your paperwork. She signed the paper, yes?Dated, with witnesses, yes? She designated me for medical information andmedical decisions. Quit being a total asshole and tell me what is going on!”
So I acted like a bastard all the way through this part. Myleg hurt. My head hurt, my back hurt, my arms and wrists and even the tips ofmy ears weren’t doing all that well. Probably be easier to list the bits of methat didn’t hurt, and I had chemicalsin my bloodstream that weren’t doing what they were supposed to do. Someone hadjust tried to kill me. Someone had just tried to kill Nef and butchered two innocent civilians instead. Bad day allaround.
The guy clenched his jaw on whatever he wanted to say. Thoughtbetter of it. “Ms. Cash appears to be stable. Ambulance EMTs stopped thebleeding in time. She needs surgery for extensive crushing injuries to her leftfoot and lower leg, and exhibits symptoms of possible internal injuries andhead injuries. She also has non life-threatening injuries to her right handthat have resulted in the loss of three fingers. She is under sedation at thistime and is not coherent.”
That didn’t make a lot of sense. “What do you need me for? Whyisn’t she in surgery?”
The doctor shook his head. “The patient was not coherent whenadmitted to the emergency room. We have a conflict between her oral directivesand prudent medical practice. We need you to resolve this conflict.”
Huh?
“What did she say?”
He consulted his clipboard. “According to the ER and EMTpersonnel, she repeated one phrase several times. ‘I can shoot left-handed, butI can’t run the bastard down with one foot gone.’ The patient resistedmedication and became agitated and abusive when the physician suggestedpossible amputation. Irrational, insisting that she’d rather die than lose herfoot. According to these notes, she threatened ER personnel with bodily harm.At that point, she was restrained and sedated. For her own safety and the safetyof others.”
Oh, shit. I couldsee it behind his words, Cash turning the air blue with ghetto profanity. Whenshe lost her temper . . . “You are aware that Nef Cash is a police officer? A detective sergeantwith the state police, injured in the line of duty? That’s why those twouniforms are pacing the floor outside. She wasn’t incoherent, she was mad.”
The guy blinked and consulted his clipboard again. “No mentionof that.”
Worse. “Doctor, get one thing straight. You are not patching up another ghetto blacksomeone dumped at the emergency room door. Cash is a state cop. State medicalinsurance will be covering her care. You don’t have to pinch your goddamnedpennies.”
He turned red and sputtered. “I resent the implication. . . .”
“Resent it out your ass,Doctor. You know and I know what hits this place every Friday and Saturdaynight. Triage time, and miracles cost
