Page 5 of Strike
The curtain surrounding the bed swept back, the rings scraping over the metal bar. Outside my little safe zone, the emergency department was running at full steam. Crying babies, broken limbs, blood, coughing, and frazzled hospital staff.
Glancing at the woman who’d appeared, I saw she was a doctor. A glamorous, six-foot, modelesque doctor. She had flawless olive skin, silky coffee-colored hair, and big hazel eyes.Andshe was a doctor. Life so wasn’t fair.
“I’m Dr. Gunner in case you don’t remember,” she said, smiling with her perfect teeth. “You were a little out of it when you were brought in. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”And inadequate.
“You inhaled a great deal of smoke,” she said, taking the stethoscope from around her neck and sliding the earpieces into her ears. “Now you’ve had time to rest, let me just check your lungs again.” Gesturing for me to lean forward, she slid the end under the hospital gown, the cold disc making me shiver. “Deep breaths. Good…”
“Excuse me,” I said, tugging at the doctor’s sleeve. “Has he come? The man who pulled me out of the building?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied, removing her stethoscope. “I can have someone check if you like.”
“Please.”
“Well, your lungs are clearing, which is what we want. Any headaches?”
I shook my head.
“Dizziness? Lethargy?”
“No.”
“I would like to keep you for a little while longer just to make sure that bump on your head doesn’t flare up. Is that okay?”
Great, another hour or so stuck reeking like smoke and ash. “I suppose.”
She smiled and swept the curtain closed, leaving me in peace.
Resting my aching head against the pillow, I breathed in oxygen through my mask and attempted to filter out the latest round of screaming children. The man in the bed next to me was busy hawking up a ball of snot stuck in the back of his throat, and I gagged.
Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts…
Imagining being lifted into the arms of my handsome stranger once more, I sighed. I hoped he’d come. He looked so sad even when he was leaping headfirst into danger to save me,a stranger. Why was he so sad?
Bloody hell, I was fantasizing about some random guy off the street. Was that normal? It wasn’t normal. He did risk his life to save me, after all. Could you get high from too much oxygen?
I hoped he was here. Then I could thank him. That would be a start.
The curtain swung open abruptly, revealing my housemate and best friend, Macy. She was hastily put together, her sun-kissed strawberry-blonde hair was twisted into a messy knot on top of her head, her face was devoid of her usual flawless foundation and eye shadow—not that it made any difference to her complexion—and she was wearing her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajama bottoms.
I pulled at the oxygen mask, relieved to see her. “Macy…”
“Bloody hell,” she cried, throwing her arms around my neck. “You scared the hell out of me, Callie!”
“It went up so fast,” I cried. “There was nothing I could do.”
She pulled back and tugged my hands away from the oxygen mask. “Leave that on. Get your breath back. The shop can be rebuilt, but you can’t.”
“Oh, fuck, the shop. It’s ruined! All that work…”
“It can be fixed, Callie.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “What happened exactly?”
“I…” I frowned and took off the mask. “I was painting and smelled smoke… When I turned around, the kitchen was on fire. I tried to get out, but there was an explosion. Oh, Macy, it went up so fast…” I buried my face in my hands, trembling. Tears were burning the back of my throat, and I was suddenly exhausted.
“Shh,” Macy crooned, wrapping her arms around me.
“I was trapped. I couldn’t… I was going to die, but then a man appeared and dragged me out.”
