Moving my arm, I saw an I.V. attached to it and moaned.
Fucking great.
Lifting the sheet covering me, I spotted the small tube sticking out of my dick. Great. A fucking catheter. I hated those things. I wasn’t going to be able to piss right for days now. Laying the sheet back down, I tried to get my bearings. My head was still a bit foggy, but I knew what I needed to do.
I needed to talk to Ghost.
He needed to know what I saw. I still couldn’t believe it myself, and I witnessed it. I just never thought I would ever see something like that. It was unbelievable.
Looking around the room I noticed how sterile it was. Void of any identifying marks, except for the man snoring in the corner.
Healer?
Fuck. My head was killing me.
What the fuck did he do to me? Oh, that’s right. He stuck a tube up my dick. The fucking asshole. Paybacks were a bitch. What the hell was I doing back in California. Last I remembered, I was in Tennessee, searching for Malcolm Wagner. How the hell did I end up back here?
“Healer?” I rasped, my voice sore and dry. Fuck I needed some water. Maybe if I played nice, he would bring me some. Healer wasn’t like most doctors. He didn’t give a shit. He kept his patients sedated until they could walk out on their own. The man didn’t have a compassionate bone in his fucking body.
Healer’s body jerked. The chair he was sleeping in slid out from under him as he landed on the floor. “Fuck. Son of a bitch,” he cursed. If I weren’t so damn thirsty and sore, I would have laughed. I watched as he got to his feet and walked over to me.
“Hey, man. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. I’m thirsty.”
Instead of pouring me a cup of water, he handed me a bottle of water. Yep, nothing changed. He was still a dick. After struggling to take the cap off, I took a long drink then asked, “What happened?”
“Poison dart.” He deadpanned as if it were an everyday occurrence. The man had no sympathy, no bedside manner. He was gruff and to the point. He didn’t believe in mincing words or sugar-coating anything. The man was a robot. How he became a doctor, I would never know.
“How did I get here?”
“Plane.” He said, putting his stethoscope in his ears as he listened to my heartbeat.
“A what?”
Sighing, he enunciated his words. “A. 747. Medical. Transport.”
“Jesus Healer, can you give me something more?”
“Well, you were shot with a poison dart. A Doctor Roxanne Franks sliced the wound, which I wouldn’t have done. Drained the area and gave you the antivenom, but you had a reaction to it. After a lengthy call, Dr. Franks agreed to have you transported back home, so I could take over.”
“Bet she didn’t like that.”
“Nope. Hated it. Cursed me to hell and back. She even threatened me.”
“That sounds like her,” I grinned. “So, what’s the verdict?”
“Well, the poison has been out of your system for a while now. Your organs are still recovering. I had to give you some anti-rejection meds to stop the decay of your liver. So far, they’re working. As for the injection site. I wouldn’t count on running anytime soon. Some of the skin turned necrotic, and I had to remove it. It’s not pretty, but you’ll survive.”
“When can I get out of here?”
“Oh, I think you’ll want to stay when Kitty finds out your awake. She’s been busting everyone’s balls since you returned. It hasn’t been pretty.”
I chuckled at that. Yeah, Kitty did have a mouth on her when she was pissed. It was then I remembered.
Holy fuck.
Grabbing Healer by his cut, I said. “I need to speak to Ghost. Go get Ghost.”