Part 7

Walter White was staying awake longer as the machines did their jobs and his body began recovering. The ricocheted, blunted bullet that hit his back passed through a kidney and exited cleanly through his side into the floorboard beneath him, missing Jesse Pinkman except for a burn mark he would only discover days later. Walter would have bled to death from the internal hemorrhaging and blood loss had the contents of the vial not extremely lowered all body systems, in the same manner as the famous zombie pufferfish powder, leaving its victims seemingly ready for (premature) burial. Fortunately, the entire (DEA Dept., West) wanted the school teacher so much that they didn't mind spending extra taxpayer monies to make sure he wasn't absolutely dead. They wanted to do the job right themselves - killing him slowly with extended trials and jail time and exclusive access. Death was too easy an end for him, bomb terrorist, spreading national threat to all youths everywhere, DEA executioner, he stood for things that were just inexcusable, especially for a regular, Everyman citizen they couldn't 100-par-cent vilify. No, this concept could not stand. Heisenberg had to pay, and in a manner not as easily forgettable and forgivable as a mere death in the nation's hive awareness.

So the SWAT team did not put White into a body bag and call it a day. They had been accused many times of always shooting first and not asking any questions later. In a sense, that is what they are called in to do. Others have to ask the questions. For this blessed event, they did no shooting, did not talk to anyone, and ended up with a great deal of body bags, though that was also someone else's job.

Another team did find an extraordinary amount of money buried in different parts of the compounds, some behind walls, some in a pile of old tires, one sack under a dog house, it was quite an Easter egg hunt. People did not realize that the microscopic security threads put into bills for the past few decades sent out certain electronic signals that, if you had the right Federal equipment, can make them easily recoverable, you could even count the denominations in a pile underground. They recovered about 40 million dollars, and had a feeling there was more out there, but still within grasp. Neo-nazis' had paranoid tendencies, and kept their money close. The only thing they found more caches of than cash, was guns.

The machines kept White's brain fully oxygenated, unlike the unfortunate, buried zombies in the making, and his blood clean and refreshed. He had been given several blood transfusions, so his body easily flushed out the remains of the drug, and his systems came back online rapidly. The surgeon had swiftly patched up his wounds at admittance, and his other kidney functioned perfectly, dialysis was just to make sure the first would recover with time and the second not fail under stress.

They took him off the respirator the third day, though he had coughing fits with blood and they eased that with strong muscle relaxants. He was woozy and in a very weakened state, but recovering quickly, too quickly, if doctors cared or dared to question such happy rarities.

"Don't even try to talk, Mr. White, it'll be easier later and better for your throat and lungs. Let's just keep our system going a little longer, okay?"

White looked up at his nurse, the only one, that he remembered, that seemed to be caring for him. He was able to focus more on her now. She had enlarged freckles, patches really, all along her face - on her cheeks, over her eyes, from her temples to her chin, she almost seemed to be wearing a robber's mask. Her blunted features were hard to distinguish, and she also seemed somewhat puffed up, her cheeks, her hands, her midriff, perhaps the effects of medications. There was a look in her eyes White couldn't place, but she always looked kindly on him, a thing that hadn't existed for him for the past 2 years. Pity, yes, kindness, no. Was it pity that she had for him?

She got in closely and whispered, "I told the people outside that you couldn't talk at all yet. Even that you were hardly awake. I can tell them that for a long time if you want." White nodded his head slowly. "Good!" she exclaimed, "I have you all to myself!" She grinned mischievously. "I think you can begin to eat. I bet you're hungry after all this time with just dripped nourishment. You want me to sneak you some light soup from the café? It's my lunch break and since you're off the respirator I can take it in here, no one will be suspicious of a little food in the room. How about vegetable soup, I can strain out the solid parts?" Walt nodded his head with some enthusiasm in his eyes. "Good! I was waiting for this day! I didn't think it would be so soon."

…

It was impossible for Flynn Lambert to go into school. Reporters hounded him at the doors and principal Molina had to call in police the first day to restore some order to the students, and then security guards thereafter. The school couldn't afford the guards for long and it was decided that Flynn stay at home until things settled, meaning indeterminately. The reporters followed Flynn home, of course.

"Get away from here! You have no right to bother us like this! FFuu*k Off!" Flynn shouted at them. He almost fell through his doorway as reporters crushed him for a statement, kicking his supports from under him. Skyler pulled him inside just in time and shouted, "I'm calling the police! Get away from us! You're all shameless!"

"Us, shameless?" a few newsmen, many not local and a few even international jeered back, with other choice comments.

She and Flynn huddled inside the dark with the curtains drawn.

"I hate him, mom, I hate him. Before he caused so much trouble, and now…!" There was such a look of extreme emotions crossing through him, hate, anger, fear, loneliness, betrayal, that she couldn't bear focusing on his face. She looked away, heard the crowd moving and yelling questions outside, and the police were slow to respond to her calls. She was waiting for when other crowds would show up there, the ones calling for Heisenberg's blood, the one's outraged that his family, his evil progeny, who probably caused, demanded, and certainly benefited from all his actions, was allowed to flourish. She knew it would all get twisted like this, and until White could be brought before them, the public, the judges, on his knees, they would be his substitute for their anger.

She heard the police cars briefly wail as they pulled up outside. They came a little quicker this time, probably because the neighbors were screaming, not for them. The grumble of noise moved off, and she heard news vans starting to pull away, though probably not far away. They would be sneaky now, hiding behind bushes, ready to pounce. She hoped it would only be the reporters pouncing. The police did not knock on her door, to check on them, to give her reassurances. They did not want to see her, and besides, they had no reassurances to give. They were alone.