Chapter 22

Charles pulled on the straw for a bit and then said, “Thanks. Where am I?”

I said, “Piedmont Hospital.”

“What happened? I don’t remember much except falling down in the park.”

“We were both shot, you in the leg and me in the arm,” I said, and I pointed to my cast.

“How bad?”

“In my case, the bullet glanced off the bone and bruised it without breaking it. In your case, I think a major bone was shattered—the surgeons spent some time pinning it back together again.”

The intern, whose nametag proclaimed him as Dr. Jonas Taylor, interrupted, saying, “How do you feel, Mr. Barnett?”

“I hurt.”

“I’m sure you do. This gadget here is a morphine drip, and I’ll show you how to work it in a couple of minutes. It will allow you to select a level of pain that you can tolerate.”

“Why is my throat sore?” Charles said. “I wasn’t shot in the neck, was I?”