“I am”—he smiled—“and trust me when I say, you’re in good hands here.”
“I still don’t understand how any of this happened.”
“Give it some time. You’ve been through a lot. It’ll come back to you when you’re ready.”
“I really hope you’re right.”
“I am. You’ll see.”
Doc gave the meds some time to take effect, then eased the sheet back and started to remove the bandages on my chest and lower abdomen. I was stunned when I saw the two large wounds and all the stitches. I’d had my doubts about whether or not Doc was a real doctor, but it was evident from the way he was handling things that he knew what he was doing. After he’d made sure there was no redness or infection, he replaced the bandages, then brought over some clothes for me to put on. I hadn’t realized how bad off I was until he helped me sit up. My body felt so heavy, like I was being weighed down, and my head was throbbing.
The black sleep pants were at least three sizes too big, but thankfully, there was a drawstring to cinch them up. The white t-shirt was also quite oversized, which was a good thing considering how much it hurt to raise my arms. Once I had them on and realized how good they smelled and comfortable they felt, I couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. There was no way I could walk on my own, so Doc lifted me up in his arms and carried me across the hall into a vacant room. It looked like a small hotel room with a full-sized bed, a tall dresser, and a flatscreen TV, and there was a door that led to a tiny private bathroom in the corner of the room.
As he lay me down on the bed, he asked, “Do you think you could eat something?”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“I didn’t figure you would be, but we really need to get some food in your system.” When he saw the unenthused expression on my face, he pushed, “How about some crackers and maybe a Sprite?”
“Okay, I’ll try it.”
“Good. I’ll run down to the kitchen and get that for you.” As he started for the door, he asked, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“My phone?” I asked sounding hopeful. “I need to call and let my family—”
“That’s not gonna happen.” Doc stepped back over to me. “I’m sure there are people out there looking for you. Both good and bad, and right now, we’ve gotta make sure the bad don’t get wind of the fact you’re still alive.”
“And what happens if they find out I’m alive.”
“Then, we’ll have trouble on our hands—big trouble.”
Shotgun
“You see the news this morning?” Menace asked. “Remington was all over it.”
“Yeah, I saw it. This whole thing is a fucking mess.”
“They said she was last seen having dinner with that cop.” He thought for a moment, then continued, “His name was—”
“Thomas Long,” I interrupted, finishing his thought. “Yeah, I saw that too.”
“The guy’s supposed to be in internal affairs.” Menace shrugged. “The way things turned out, you gotta wonder if the guy’s a dirty cop or something. Might’ve had a deal gone bad.”
“Making guesses isn’t going to do us any good, brother. We need someone to give us some fucking answers.”
“Well, I think I’ve got something that will help us out with that.” I’d gone by Menace’s room to do my daily check in, and as usual, the place was a fucking wreck. The bed was unmade, clothes were on the floor and dirty glasses on the bedside table, but his desk and everything around it were perfectly organized. There wasn’t so much as a spot of dust anywhere. I wasn’t surprised. Menace took his work seriously, and I had to admit, the things he could do with a computer fucking amazed me. I wasn’t alarmed when he said, “I know they weren’t the only ones responsible for all this shit, but with a little fine-tuning, I was finally able to get a decent view of the two guys who tossed Remington into our dumpster.”
“And?” He turned the laptop screen to face me, revealing a young male who looked to be in his early twenties with a tattoo scrolled across his upper throat and shoulders. “This is Drake Abernathy. He has a rap sheet a mile long. Seems this guy’s into all kinds of stupid shit from dope to sexual assault.”
“Looks like your typical hood rat.”
“Yeah, but his buddy seems to have kept out of trouble.” He flipped the screen to show an image of another man. He was much older, slender with a broad nose and graying hair. Menace cleared his throat, then added,” His name’s Alfonzo McKinney, but there’s not much more on him. He’s got no living family or relatives, but get this. He and Drake are members of the East-End Punishers. I think they’re the ones behind all this.”