The Last Day

EIGHTY

When Ward opened his eyes slowly, the first thing he saw was Natasha, sitting beside the bed holding his left hand.

“Welcome back,” she said, wiping away a tear from her cheek.

He turned his head the other way to see Alice Palmer asleep in the reclining chair by the window. There were small droplets of blood, like freckles, dotting her lax features.

A tall, stooped man in whites, with a gleaming bald head, finished checking the machines. Ward looked across the bed, fixing him in his gaze. He recognized the man, but couldn't seem to remember his name.

“Ward, you're in the hospital and you're fine. Don't try to talk. You need to rest and gain your strength. Your injuries are very serious, but you're going to be fine.”

Ward tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.

“Don't try to talk,” Natasha said. “You're safe. We're all safe.”

“I was dead,” Ward managed to say. “I was with Barney,” he told her. “I really was.”

“Your heart stopped,” Natasha told him. “But just for a few seconds.”

“I saw…” Ward started. “I saw you put the garbage bag around me. I was watching from…” He tried to point up, to remember more, and did. “I was with Barney and I saw you leaning over me trying to help me.”

Natasha's perplexed expression reflected confusion, but he was sure she believed him.

“You have to get some rest. You can tell me about it later.”

“We repaired everything, Ward,” the doctor said. “You're stable, and your vitals are getting stronger by the minute.”

“Thank, you, Scott,” he said, his voice cracking with gratitude. Scott Boggs was the doctor's name and his son had played Little League with Barney. Ward's right hand was throbbing and he looked down at the encasing bandage. He remembered the knife. “My hand…”

“There's extensive damage to your hand. Dr. Levingston, our orthopedist, took a look at it, and he's going to operate to reattach the tendons when you're stronger. Hopefully the nerves will grow back together in time.”

“I understand,” Ward said. “Thank you, Scott.”

Boggs put a hand on Ward's shoulder and squeezed gently. “You are so welcome, Ward. Mind your wife and get some rest. We'll manage the pain, and get you back on your feet in no time.”

“It could use some pain management,” he said.

“We're on top of it,” Natasha said.

A nurse had come in and Natasha stepped back to let her take her place. The nurse raised a syringe, looked at it, and inserted it into the IV tube culminating under the bandage on Ward's hand. As she depressed the syringe, Ward felt a cool sensation in his right hand as the pain faded.

He was aware of Natasha kissing him on the cheek as he floated away.