Alexander struggled up from the dark floating surrender of sweet unconsciousness. Images flashed through his mind as he fought back the sirens call to simply continue floating in the comforting black nothingness.
Stumbling down the embankment.
The feeling of helplessness.
Stones biting into his knees as he wrestled with the unyielding door.
Finally pulling forth the strength.
The taught pull of muscle against steel.
A whispered "Jenabel...save Jenabel."
Hands deeply gouged by glass and metal.
Flashes of emerald green shrouded by ebony silk marred crimson...
Alexander jerked awake. His body tightening on reflex, bringing forth a moan of pain as the battering his body took began to register. So overwhelming was it that his vision narrowed, unconsciousness offering sweet solace from the pain but Alexander would have none of that.
"Where the hell am I?" Alexander asked the empty room in a hoarse voice.
Grabbing the small water pitcher by the bed he drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his throat and bringing him one step closer to full awareness.
He remembered the road, the skid marks, the overturned Suburban. Knew that he had gotten the man out, went back for Jenabel. Looking down at his hands, he was surprised to see that while still livid and painful, the deep scores from the twisted metal and glass were well on there way to being healed.
Alexander stood on unsteady legs, his back alternating between sharp pains and dull aches as he rose and stretched. The hospital gown only covered to mid thigh because of his tall frame, the back open to the air. He could feel the pull of a few large bandages across his wide shoulders.
The room was standard hospital issue, if a little small by military standards which surprised him. Anything run by the government was probably smaller than you would find in civilian life. Walking over to the window his knee let it be known that his current actions were not appreciated. Rubbing his sore knee he looked out the window onto the darkened street beyond.
"Must be well after midnight." He noted his voice was still scratchy even speaking softly.
The moon, a few days past full, was low in the western sky. The street was quiet, deep darkness fought against the wavering pool of light under the only street lamp.
'They must have brought me here after the wreck.'
His thoughts were slowly returning to normal, sharpening with each passing moment as his system fought against the remaining sedative in his system.
He felt stiff and grimy. Limping over to the small closet he found his duffel bag neatly stored inside.
Wallet, keys, the smooth stone from the head of the Indus River in Tibet all set together. He palmed the stone for a moment. As always it grounded him, brought him back to the moment he found it on the river bank just before all hell broke lose. Had he not been bending down to pick it up the sniper's bullet would have surely killed him. Since that day it had been on or with him at all times, a personal talisman imbued with a special energy. "I'll need to find a way to wear this." He said to himself with a relieved sigh as he grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making his way into the small bathroom.
The fluorescent light was harsh and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The mirror reflected a pale, wild looking mess. Alexander gave himself a rueful smile. 'Well I've looked worse in the aftermath.' His thoughts didn't dwell on the past; he was more focused on the here and now. Shrugging off the gown he twisted, bringing a grimace to his face as he surveyed his back. Remembering the explosion and covering Jenabel's body with his he worried about the damage. Pulling off the bandages, the tape pulling hard at his skin he prepared for the worst.
As with his hands it was not as bad as he thought. Alexander would have a few more scars as a remembrance of the moment. An especially livid one now traveled up his back diagonally from his left ass cheek to his right shoulder. Alexander couldn't help but chuckle, with this addition his back would now have a virtual twin to the knife scar from the African he had surprised in Malabo. 'He was almost fast enough,' Alexander thought with a grin as he stepped into the shower.
The hot water felt good, his muscles slowly releasing their tension under the almost unbearable heat from the strong spray. Washing quickly Alexander was feeling better and also feeling restless. His experiences in hospitals had taught him one thing, the less you were there, the better.
Alexander dressed quickly. Pulling his small wad of cash from the lining of his duffel, he divided it in two, leaving half on the bed before returning the remainder to its spot and closing up his bag. It wasn't in him to owe people, he hoped the money would be enough to cover their help but he was loath to stay any longer.
Hefting the duffel over his shoulder he found the corridor empty as he moved quickly and quietly toward the exit sign that glowed welcomingly in the shadowed hallway.
The cool air hit him like a physical blow. The small hospital had been warm; Alexander wasn't ready for the chill held in the deep end of night. Setting his bag down he pulled out his leather jacket. It was a little worse for wear, a few new holes along the back from the broken window. 'It's a lot like me, well worn.' Alexander thought as a smile found his lips upon seeing his Harley in the parking lot.
Amy stirred on the small cot as the low growl of a motorcycle burst to life. Immediately alert she headed out to the small ward, 'it can only be Mr. Dane.' Her thoughts were confirmed when she entered his room, everything was gone aside from a small pile of bills on the pillow. "I better call Mr. Benton," she muttered to herself as she headed for the phone.
-vVv-
"Benton."
It was a weary Carl Benton that answered the phone. Gazing at the clock through bleary eyes, he was surprised to see it was a little after 3 in the morning. It had been a long couple of days since the accident and this was to be his first good nights rest.
Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Carl became increasingly perturbed and worried. Phone calls at this hour rarely brought good news. His wife Sophie looked up at him with sleepy, questioning eyes.
"This better be important." His words were a little harsher than he meant them to be and he saw a glimmering reproach in his wife's eyes.
"Sorry to disturb you Mr. Benton."
Carl recognized Amy's voice and sat up in bed turning on the small bedside light.
"What happened to him Amy?"
Carl knew the only reason she would be calling was if something happened to Mr. Dane.
"He's gone sir, packed up his things, left $400.00 on the bed and headed out on his motorcycle."
Carl shook his head at the news.
