Infected

27.

“I’m sorry, Mister Phillips,” the doctor said. “He just slipped away. We thought we had him out of the woods, and then he was just gone.”

Dew stared at the doctor, who looked tired and bedraggled. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault; the man had done everything possible. Dew still couldn’t stop the wave of fury that swept over him, that had him wondering how easy it would be to snap the little doctor’s skinny neck.

“What killed him?”

“It wasn’t one particular thing. I think the whole incident was just too much for his body to handle. To be blunt, he should have died back on Monday, but he was strong enough to fight another sixty hours. Because of that, we thought we might be able to save him, but there was just too much damage. I’m very sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to his wife.”

“No,” Dew snapped. Then, quietly, “No, I’ll do it. I was his partner.”

“As you like, Mister Phillips,” the doctor said. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

The doctor strode away. Dew stared at the floor, gathering his courage. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a partner, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had to break the news to a new widow. It never got easier. It was funny how you could get used to killing, but not to death.

He wearily looked down the hall. Shamika stared at him, her son, Jerome, asleep in her lap. Her eyes filled with tears of denial. She knew. Dew still had to tell her, though; the words had to be said.

He walked toward her. Dew remembered another hospital, a day six years earlier, the day Jerome was born. He remembered sitting in the waiting room with Malcolm, who’d been so nervous he’d thrown up twice. He remembered talking to Shamika just hours after the delivery.

He kept walking toward her. She started shaking her head side to side, clutching Jerome tighter. She mumbled warbling words that couldn’t be understood, yet their meaning rang clear. Dew wished he were anywhere else, anywhere but facing this crying woman, the wife of his friend, his partner…the man he’d failed to protect.

He fought back tears of his own, an empty sorrow rolling in his chest alongside the burning hatred and rage. The only thing that kept him strong was the knowledge he’d find out who was responsible. And when he did, oh daddy, daddy-o, the fun he would have.