White Sister

Chapter 52.

WE HAD A few hairy moments, but she made it," Luther said. His face was drawn. Etched with stress. It was just a few minutes past noon. Chooch, Luther, and I were standing just inside the surgical staff area near a sliding, frosted-glass partition that was above a reception desk and separated us from the waiting room. "Time is our ally now. The longer we keep her alive post-op, the better our survival chances are." "What's this crazy Jim Crow nigga talking 'bout?" an unmistakable voice blurted. I turned to see that Bodine had moved up to the counter and was looking in through the open partition. His wretched appearance was causing Luther some concern. Our neurosurgeon glanced at a passing surgical floor nurse. "Can you get someone to help this gentleman?" The nurse went off in search of security. "Go fuck yourself," Bodine said. "The Crown Prince of Bassaland ain't gonna be going nowhere." Luther frowned at me. "He's with us," I said. "Sorta…" Luther snapped a look back at John with his chopped-off dreads. Then he glanced at my freshly burned hair and eyebrows. I saw indecision flash. He was probably thinking he'd just thrown in with a bunch of crazies. "What do you mean, the longer we keep her alive post-op, the better our survival chances are?" I said. "I won't lie, Shane. There was a lot of damage. Once I got in there, I did what cleanup I could. I restored some blood flow. Enervated and repaired some veins and arteries. I recovered half-a-dozen bullet fragments and some more bone chips, but there's some in there I couldn't safely get to. We left the skull patch open, so if there's swelling, the pressure won't build. In a few days, if things go well, I'll replace the bone flap and reattach the scalp. Till then we pray." "Jesus," I whispered. "I never promised you a perfect result," Luther said. "Samik Mampuna promises perfect results every damn time. I know what's in the future. I got peeps up there lookin', talkin' to me. John waved his left hand, which was still clutching a half-full cup of soda from the cafeteria. "Member what I told ya 'bout these God wannabes who think it's up to them what happens t'folks." He motioned to Luther. "This ass-wipe here don't have any damn way t'change nothin'." With that, Luther walked over and slammed the sliding glass partition on the counter shut, cutting off John's tirade and turning him into a ghostly apparition waving his arms and ranting on the other side of the frosted glass. Bodine turned up the volume. "'Member what I be sayin'!" he shouted though the glass. "I get this direct from the boss. From Chief O. Your old lady ain't on the ark till Chief O punches her ticket." Through the closed frosted partition it looked as if someone in a blue uniform walked up, collared him, and roughly pulled him away. "I've got to make rounds now," Luther said. "Check with me in two hours, and we'll talk again at six tonight." After he left, Chooch and I made a quick search of the floor, looking for Bodine, but didn't find him. I couldn't worry about him any longer. I'd fed him a cafeteria breakfast and for now, that's all I could contribute. Chooch and I returned to the waiting room and talked. Mostly, we shared old memories of Alexa. After about an hour, he said, "Dad, I've got to get out of here for a while. I'm fragged." I could imagine. I told him I would take the next shift until the meeting with Luther at six. Then we walked down to his Jeep and I retrieved his laptop, which contained the cloned disk from Alexa's computer. I hugged him. We stood in the parking lot, clutching each other, both afraid to let go. When I walked back up to Neurosurgery, there were tears in my eyes. Time was our ally, that's what Luther had said. But as it crept off the clock, time felt like my worst enemy. I still had the jail property bag with all my possessions, so to keep busy, I started to unload it and put things back into my pockets. I finally recovered my cell phone at the bottom of the bag and when I flipped it open, there was an urgent message to call Tommy Sepulveda's cell. I dialed and waited for him to answer. "Sepulveda," he said in a hushed voice.