The Eye of Shiva

CHAPTER 33

Nick looked through the glass of the cubicle in ICU and felt his stomach clench. Ronnie's skin was a pale yellow-brown, like weak sun on a desert plain. A bank of monitors over his head traced the electronic fragility of his life. A bag of clear liquid hung from a rack, feeding into his veins.

"It's a miracle he's still alive."

The speaker was Ronnie's doctor. She was a tall redhead with clear blue eyes and pale skin. Nick guessed her age at around forty. The name tag on her white lab coat identified her as Evelyn Fairchild, M.D.

"Were you with him when he was shot?" she said. "If you're the one who kept him from bleeding out, you saved his life."

"I was there. It wasn't me that saved him."

"One of the bullets just missed the heart and exited his back. A little to the left and that would've been it. Another round destroyed his spleen. We removed that."

"You took out his spleen?"

"What was left of it," she said. "He can live without it."

She waited to see if Nick was going to say anything else. When he didn't, she continued.

"A third bullet perforated the lower abdomen. We had to go in and clean him out. He lost about a foot of intestine but we were able to reattach the two ends. If he recovers, he'll have normal intestinal function."

"If he recovers?" Nick said.

"I won't kid you," she said. "It could go either way. We were able to repair the injuries but his body was badly traumatized. We're keeping him sedated to help the natural healing process."

"Shit," Nick said.

"Yes." She waited for the question she knew was coming.

"When will we know?" Nick asked.

"I can't say. He's stable and his EEG is normal. That's good. He's in excellent condition, aside from his injuries. I don't think there's any neurological damage from hydrostatic shock but we won't know for sure until he wakes up. That's one of the major concerns. I think there's every reason to be hopeful but that's all I can tell you."

Hydrostatic shock was bad news. When a bullet struck a living body, it sent pressure waves throughout the fluid in the tissues. It was hydrostatic shock that knocked down big game when shot. It could scramble the brain.

"Thanks for not sugarcoating it. Can I go in and talk to him?"

Doctor Fairchild nodded. "You can, but he won't respond. Five minutes, no more." She reached into a box on the nurse's station and took out a disposable face mask. "Wear this," she said.

Nick put on the mask and entered the cubicle. It was quiet there, except for the monotonous hum of air conditioning and the beeping of the machines monitoring Ronnie's vital signs. Green and red and yellow digital blips moved across the screens above Ronnie's head.

"Hey, amigo," Nick said.

His stomach twisted into knots as he looked at his friend. He'd never felt so helpless.

"You gotta quit laying around like this. Everybody misses you. Selena said for me to give you a kiss for her but I figured you wouldn't mind if I just told you about it instead."

Nick reached out and took Ronnie's hand in both of his, careful not to disturb the IV needle taped to his arm. The skin was cool, unresponsive to his touch.

"The guy who shot you is history," Nick said. "It turns out somebody else set the whole thing up. We're going to find out who it is and then we're going after him. I wish you could go with us. I wanted you to know we're going to get the bastard."

He squeezed the limp hand. "Stay with us, Ronnie. We need you. We miss you."

Nick felt moisture on his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"I have to go. I'll come back as soon as I can."

Nick got up and left the room. He tossed the mask in a wastebasket as he went out.

He didn't look back.