G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-26-

Wow, two parts in one day? You guys are getting spoiled. ;) Last chapter of book four! Please... enjoy...

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    I insisted I be released after two days went by. The doctor told me a week wasn't enough for my body to even start healing, but I needed to get out. I was nervous that my presence would bring down Hell on this hospital sooner rather than later, and I needed to find out what Jade put in my arm. Gross, I know. People seemed to have a weird habit of hiding electronic devices in my body. Was that a thing now? Was it like in a League newsletter or something?

"Hey, remember the put-stuff-in-Dustin's/Logan's body contest!"

I gave myself a useless reminder to stay away from women with knives.

With the leftover money Jade gave me for treatment, I bought a wheelchair from the hospital, and then I gave some to Marella to buy me some clothes and a backpack. She said it was highly unorthodox, but still did it once I said I would also pay her. I was fairly certain she was a single mom working two jobs; she could use the money.

The nurse came into her shift bearing a Kohl's bag containing jeans, socks, underwear, tennis shoes, a striped T-shirt, and a warm jacket. She asked me if I needed help changing, which, though I probably did, I told her absolutely not. It had been too long since I wore underwear; I wanted to enjoy the feeling in private.

She still waited behind the room curtains.

It took me at least fifteen minutes.

The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of paperwork and people continuously giving me "you shouldn't be doing this" glances. When Marella wasn't looking, I peeked into one of the dresser drawers by my bed, coming out with one of the nurse kits, and put it in my new bag. I grabbed one of a different color, as well, just in case.

After lunch, with my backpack on my lap, I wheeled out of the hospital in my wheelchair. It was kind of sad, really, to see the only normal people I'd known in a year disappear from my sight.

It took me a while to get off the hospital grounds, and I started feeling weak midway through. My arms were strong enough to wheel me the whole way; it was just the loss of blood and painkillers I was on. I felt like curling up on the ground and never waking up again. Some civilians noticed, too, and gave me suspicious/concerned/curious glances.

Civilians, I huffed to myself. When did I start thinking of people as "civilians?"

Once more in the city, I almost ducked into a nearby alleyway until seeing a few homeless people taking shelter there, and awkwardly continued on. Eventually, I did find an empty alley, and it was long, bordered by tall buildings. The sun was starting to crest against the city backdrop, leaving the place dim in lighting. Some old cigarettes and broken beer bottles did well in providing a very "used" atmosphere.

I went all the way to the end, then turned around, making sure there wasn't anyone following. My stomach gave a small rumble, and I almost grabbed a snack from my bag—almost. Then I realized what I was about to do would probably make me throw it up again.

I zipped open my bag and took out one of the nurse's kits, unraveling it to find an assortment of medical items, but no scalpel. The second kit didn't have on either. With a grimace, I picked up one of the scissors instead. I was careful to make sure all the sanitized things stayed together, knowing I'd have to use them after I was done.

I took off my jacket and shirt and felt a rather large chill. It was February in Colorado, so, yeah, decently cold. Reminded me of nights at the station.