your world.”
Sixteen: RESCUE
Three A.M. is a bad time in hospitals. Normal life processes are at their
lowest ebb. If it is busy it is because things have gone to hell and if
it’s quiet it’s hard to stay alert. Fortunately things were quiet on
Neuro, so the nursing supervisor was having trouble staying awake when
Sheila came up to the station.
“We’ve lost Conally.” Sheila’s voice was so low and tight the supervisor
had trouble understanding her.
The super looked up from her charts. “What?”
“Conally, the patient in 314. We’ve lost her.”
The supervisor looked sharply at the young nurse. She seemed to be taking
this one very hard.
“Too bad,” the supervisor said sympathetically, reaching for the phone.
“I’ll get a resident up here to pronounce and then we’ll . . .”
Sheila shook her head. “You don’t understand. She’s not dead, she’s gone!
Not in her room.”
It was the supervisor’s turn to go white.
The bed was in place, the bedclothes rumpled but not thrown back and the
bed was empty.
“Did you check the other rooms?”
“I’ve looked everywhere in the ward. I can’t find her.”
It wasn’t unknown for Neuro patients to get out of bed and wander around.
That was why the unit was built secure. Except for emergency exits with
alarms, the only way in or out was past the nurse’s station and the door
could not be opened from the inside unless someone at the nurse’s station
buzzed you out.
“Well, search again.”
“I’ve already got Doreen and Lupe doing that.”
“We’d better alert security to search the rest of the hospital,” the
supervisor said at last.
As she turned away from the empty bed she thought regretfully of the
cigarettes she had left in her locker. This was going to be a bitch of a
night.
Bronwyn looked up from the still form, her lips pressed into a tight
bloodless line. “What have those damned barbarians done to her?” she
demanded.
“How should I know?” Wiz said. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Neither are any of them by the look of it. They kept her clean and fed,
but they did nothing to heal the damage to her brain.”
“I don’t think we can,” Wiz said. “Head injuries are hard for us to
handle.”
“Barbarians,” Bronwyn repeated and motioned her assistant to her. “Now
leave us. And don’t expect to talk to this one for a couple of days at
least.”
In the event, it was three days before Bronwyn would let Wiz and Moira in
to see her patient.
Judith was lying in bed propped up with pillows. She still looked
terrible, but she was conscious.
“Hi, Judith. How are you feeling?”
“Wiz, Moira,” she said weakly. “I dreamed about you.” Then she frowned. “I
feel funny. Arms and legs don’t move right and my eyes don’t wanna focus.”
“That is normal,” Bronwyn said. “Magic can only do so much safely. You
must heal the rest of the way naturally. That will take time and work on
your part.”
“Not complaining,” Judith said muzzily.
“You said you dreamed about us,” Moira said gently.
“Dreamed about this place a lot. I think.”
“Do you remember answering questions about this World?”
Judith’s eyes flicked from side to side, as if searching. “I, I might
have. It seems like I went over and over things about this place.”
“She will never have complete memory of that time,” Bronwyn whispered in
Wiz’s ear. “There was too much damage.”
“Did you have any notes about our system of magic?” Wiz asked.
“Notes?” Judith seemed confused. Then she pressed her fingers to her
forehead in an effort to think. “Yes, I did make some notes after I got
back, but I didn’t show them to anybody. They’re in my apartment.”
“We’ll check on that,” Wiz said.
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked.
“We think you talked while you were in the hospital,” Wiz told her. “We
think someone got most of the system of magic out of you. I’ll bet we
won’t find those notes in your apartment either. Do you know a guy named
Mikey Baker?”
“No.”
“What about Craig Scott?”
“Yes,” Judith said hoarsely. “He’s a friend of mine. We furp together all