Chapter 35
I was in that faint edge of wakefulness. Where you know you're not quite asleep, but don't really want to wake up either. My body felt heavy. My head throbbed. And my throat was sore.
The last thought made me open my eyes. I was staring at a white ceiling. Brown water marks traced the paint like spilled coffee. I wasn't home. Where was I?
I remembered Bruno holding me down. The needle. I sat up then. The world swam in clear waves of color. I fell back onto the bed, covering my eyes with my hands. That helped a little. What had they given me?
I had an image in my mind that I wasn't alone. Somewhere in that dizzying swirl of color had been a person. Hadn't there? I opened my eyes slower this time. I was content to stare up at the water-ruined ceiling. I was on a large bed. Two pillows, sheets, a blanket. I turned my head carefully and found myself staring into Harold Gaynor's face. He was sitting beside the bed. It wasn't what I wanted to wake up to.
Behind him, leaning against a battered chest of drawers was Bruno. His shoulder holster cut black lines across his blue short-sleeved dress shirt. There was a matching and equally scarred vanity table near the foot of the bed. The vanity sat between two high windows. They were boarded with new, sweet-smelling lumber. The scent of pine rode the hot, still air.
I started to sweat as soon as I realized that there was no air-conditioning.
"How are you feeling, Ms. Blake?" Gaynor asked. His voice was still that jolly Santa voice with an edge of sibilance. As if he were a very happy snake.
"I've felt better," I said.
"I'm sure you have. You have been asleep for over twenty-four hours. Did you know that?"
Was he lying? Why would he lie about how long I'd been asleep? What would it gain him? Nothing. Truth then, probably.
"What the hell did you give me?"
Bruno eased himself away from the wall. He looked almost embarrassed. "We didn't realize you'd already taken a sedative."
"Painkiller," I said.
He shrugged. "Same difference when you mix it with Thorazine."
"You shot me up with animal tranquilizers?"
"Now, now, Ms. Blake, they use it in mental institutions, as well. Not just animals," Gaynor said.
"Gee," I said, "that makes me feel a lot better."
He smiled broadly. "If you feel good enough to trade witty repartee, then you're well enough to get up."
Witty repartee? But he was probably right. Truthfully, I was surprised I wasn't tied up. Glad of it, but surprised.
I sat up much slower than last time. The room only tilted the tiniest bit, before settling into an upright position. I took a deep breath, and it hurt. I put a hand to my throat. It hurt to touch the skin.
"Who gave you those awful bruises?" Gaynor asked.
Lie or truth? Partial lie. "I was helping the police catch a bad guy. He got a little out of hand."
"What happened to this bad guy?" Bruno asked.
"He's dead now," I said.
Something flickered across Bruno's face. Too quick to read. Respect maybe. Naw.
"You know why I've had you brought here, don't you?"
"To raise a zombie for you," I said.
"To raise a very old zombie for me, yes."