Kody woke when the nurse came into his hospital room. He felt awful. “What happened?”
“Ah, you’re awake,” the nurse said. “The doctor will be with you shortly. Now if you will just sign this admittance paper, your insurance will cover it.”
“What happened?” he repeated as her hand guided his numb fingers for the signature.
She glanced at him sympathetically. “You don’t remember?”
“I don’t,” he agreed.
“You were in an accident. A bad one. But they got you here in time.”
“The doctor will explain. Meanwhile this will relax you.”
“Don’t—” But she was already giving him a dose via the IV hooked to his arm. He had no choice but to fade out.
When Kody woke again, he was cautious about speaking. He wanted to know more about his situation before they dosed him. He had been in an accident? It must have been a bad one, because his whole body felt washed out. Had a drunk driver hit him? Then what about his car? Was it suffering similarly?
The nurse, morbidly attuned, knew he was awake. “Just in time for the doctor,” she said briskly, as if that was all that mattered.
“I just want to know—”
“Not now,” she said with impersonal efficiency. “He’s here.”
So much for any preference he might have. This was, after all, a hospital; they had better things to do than chat with patients.
