Reading to Sam
Gene sat down with a groan of his tired bones, on the chair beside Sam Tyler's bed. He glanced across at the gunshot detective. "Well, Tyler. Looks like you got yourself in another mess. I told you not to trust that guy, didn't I?" He shook his head, and sighed. "Don't call for backup. Don't believe the lieutenant. I was like you once. Just make sure you live long enough to be like me, kid."
He shook out the newspaper. "Now let's see what's in here today. Cartoons. You like the funny papers, Sam?" He glanced at the unconscious man's pale face, then back at the paper. "Nah. You're more a news and book reviews guy, aren't you?"
He hummed a little to himself. The monitor beside Sam beeped. Gene turned another page. "More construction, Tyler. Do you like construction? Let's see. Here's an article on the astronauts. Doing dumb things up in space. That's your level, isn't it? Futuristic." He snorted, and began to read.
No response from Sam, but Gene's voice droned steadily on, adding remarks, trying to quip, trying to keep in touch, keep Sam from dying, the way he always tried to keep his men, his 125 family alive.
The beeping continued, but Gene finished. "Hang in there, Tyler." He gave him a slap on the knee, left his hand there a moment. "Wake up soon."
He refolded the paper, left it on the seat, and exited the room.