Chapter 9.
"Fox McCloud," greeted a doctor, stepping inside the lobby of the air base's hospital. The blue jay extended a gentle hand and added, "I'd know that face from a mile away."
Fox stood up and shook the doctor's hand. "Dr. Herzog," he greeted. "How's the team?"
"They're fine. At least, Bill and Slippy are."
"Thank God," said Fox. "What about Falco? What happened to him?"
"There's the bad news. He's still unconscious, and we're not sure why. We ran a variety of tests on his body, and we're trying to do a CT here in a minute, but all signs point to a concussion."
"You mean, you're not sure?"
"Sometimes in cases like Falco's, after binge drinking for as long as he did, once he starts to sleep, he won't wake up for a day."
"Is his case really severe? He told me he had been drinking for only five years."
"He's pushed himself pretty close to edges a lot of older folks won't even cross," the doctor replied, passing a slim file to Fox. "This will give you a better idea of how much damage has been done."
"Thanks, Doctor," replied Fox, taking the file in hand. As he pored over the papers, the message amid the medical language spoke volumes. His eyes crossed at the sight of the first page. "Man. It's like crashing into that power pole might have saved his life."
"But that's not the only thing. He seems like he's on the verge of waking up, but then he's not. He's unstable."
"What's your opinion...off the record?"
"My guess is, he just needs someone to talk to him."
"…What?"
"Sometimes when a patient is comatose, he will start to come out of it when someone he knows starts to talk to him."
"Either that or I'll drive him deeper into his coma, for all I know." Fox passed the folder back to the doctor and said, "I don't want to leave without trying, though."
"All right. Let me take you to his room."
As the doctor led Fox through a series of taupe halls, Fox followed him and glanced at the bronze-coated numbers screwed into the doors. The numbers grew along with the noise of his pounding heart. A flurry of things to say rushed to his head, even forming voiceless words on his lips, but they all sounded wrong...would they be enough to get through the fog in Falco's mind?
"Here we are," said the doctor, motioning to his left. "You'll be able to speak to him before a nurse comes in to take him to Imaging."
He pushed down on the door handle and feathered the door open. In a flash, the doctor whirled around and yanked the nearby phone from its receiver. "This is Herzog in 115 West. We need security here. Repeat, we need security here now."
The doctor slammed the phone into its receiver and sped down the hall. Fox stayed behind, standing with a numb look on his face…