What
was that noise? Sounded like a whole herd of buffalo about ready to
grind him into pemmican. It deafened him like the roar of falls off a
high mountain cliff. That had to be it. He had that sensation of
floating again, had to be water. He was floating in water? No, didn't
feel like it. A train? That had to be it. By the shudders and
pounding - they had him on a train. Damn Philadelphia, He'd never
make it that far.
He tried to sit up - and couldn't. Tried to lift his head. Couldn't. He couldn't move his arms or legs, feet or hands. The bullet was finally killing him. He was completely paralyzed.
"Chris!" he hollered it, but could hardly hear himself over the din. "Chris!" Suddenly two pairs of hands grabbed hold of him, he could feel them on his arms. He couldn't open his eyes. "Chris!"
"...right here...!" Though Chris' voice was dim and far away, Vin could tell he was shouting. One of the four hands moved up to his forehead. "Calm down...safe...taking ...hospital."
"Philadelphia?"
"What?" Chris asked, but Vin didn't have the strength or voice to say it again. "Can't see Chris. Can't see." He felt breath on his face, Chris was leaning down to hear him. "My eyes...can't see."
"...bruises...windburn...swollen..." Chris' voice came across like a bad echo. "...be...okay..." The other hands moved down to his legs. "Nathan...know...feel...that...?" It took Vin a second to figure out what was wanted. He nodded, he could feel the hands on his feet. He wasn't paralyzed. Praise the Lord. Just tied down probably. Nathan'd said that back in town once. If they was to take a train anywhere, he'd want Vin secured real good to his bed so he wouldn't jar his spine. That was one of the main reasons Vin wouldn't go to any hospital. Couldn't stand the thought of being tied down for any length of time. Even if it might ultimately save his life. Now here he was. Tied down so good he thought he was paralyzed.
Couldn't think about it. If he thought about it, he'd panic and fight against the ropes. But thinking about not thinking about it pushed him to the edge. "Chris?! Chris?!" He struggled to at least free his arm. What was that around his neck? Some real big stiff bandage. Noose musta cut into his neck but good. A big, warm hand grabbed his own.
"...stay still..." Chris commanded. "...spine...hospital...soon...helicopter..."
Well, Vin understand part of that last word. Hell.
He was in it.
M7*M7*M7*
When Vin stopped struggling, Chris kept one hand on his forehead, the other tight on his wrist. He looked to Nathan who was tucking the sheet back around Vin's feet from checking his reflexes. He nodded to Chris - everything was good. Another twelve minutes in this helicopter would have them to the hospital. Then Chris could figure out who did this to Tanner - and how he'd do worse to them.
M7*M7*M7*
Morning had come again, and five men occupied various chairs and positions in the surgery waiting room at Mercy Hospital. As the first fingers of dawn reached them through the window, Josiah stood to stretch.
"Snow looks like it's finally letting up." he said. None of them had slept.
"Wonder when the power company'll get to that transformer." Buck asked. "Hospital'll be their priority. That's good anyway."
Chris listened to them talk, slumped in a thinly padded, badly vinyled chair. He rested his head in one hand, shielding his eyes the glare of the lamp, from the rising sun, from the others. Vin had lost consciousness again in the helicopter and stayed that way right up until they wheeled him into surgery to get that bullet out of his spine. Nathan insisted that the neurosurgeon had assured him that the power to the surgical suites was more than adequate for the operation, and she'd prefer to get that bullet out sooner rather than later.
So, Chris had watched his friend wheeled away to his fate, and couldn't even let him know he'd be waiting for him when he came back..
A clear plastic bag at Chris' feet held Vin's clothes. He took the unfamiliar leather coat out and held it up for a better look.
"Nice coat." JD said from his bunk in the chair next to Chris. "Where'd Vin get that?"
"I don't know." Chris said, puzzled. "I've never seen it before." He looked the fringed jacket all over, inside and out. "Handmade. No label. I don't know where he mighta got it."
"Maybe at that new store? Y'know, the one they put up next to where Vin gets his gas on the reservation. They sell stuff like that. Coats, moccasins, He mighta got it there."
"Yeah." Chris agreed, grateful for one piece of the puzzle fitting, even if it wasn't a perfect match. "Musta set him back a pretty penny..."
"He likes that Native American stuff..."
Josiah and Buck offered to scout the cafeteria for something resembling breakfast. When they were gone, Chris picked up the coat again. "Hey Ezra? What d'you make of this?" he tossed it across the small room, and Ezra caught it easily.
Pointedly avoiding the blood stains, Ezra examined the coat carefully. "Very fine leather. Moose hide I believe. Stitching is well done, though a little primitively for what this coat must've cost. No label which is also unusual. Authentic beading I daresay. But if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this was made more for one of the Civil War reenactments or French and Indian Rendezvous that Mr. Tanner has often expressed an interest in. That would explain the stitching and absence of label." He tossed it back again. Chris nodded his thanks. That piece just wasn't fitting any better.
M7*M7*M7*
They'd made their way through good coffee and so-so doughnuts for breakfast when Nathan reappeared with a woman in scrubs beside him. Must be the neurosurgeon. Only the fact that she was smiling gave him the relief to whisper "Down Buck." as he felt his friend get in place beside him.
"Fellas, this is Becky Clemens, she took the bullet out of Vin." Nathan introduced her. "She says he's fine."
"He is." The doctor agreed, not losing her smile. "There's been no damage to his spinal cord. The bullet had been resting against it, which no doubt caused some pain or numbness. But all of his reflexes are working fine. I see no reason for him not to regain all movement and sensation in his legs."
"Can I see him?" What mattered most to Chris right now.
"Not yet. He'll be in recovery awhile longer. Due to the trauma to his throat, our ENT decided to keep him intubated, at least till he's fully conscious again. As soon as he's been settle into his room, I'll have a nurse come get you."
The others gave the doctor their thanks, and asked one or two more questions. Chris turned to the window, and the dawn that was rising on a town knee deep in snow. Not one car, not one person, could be seen along the snow choked street. They wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile. Which was just as well. They wouldn't have been going anywhere for awhile anyway.
Chris leaned his head against the cold glass and breathed out his thanks. After a minute, he turned to look again at the leather jacket he still held gripped in his hand.
Damn, those pieces just didn't fit together.
