The Ilokana

Chapter Twelve

She could hear them and not hear them at the same time. Michael and Adrian's voices were background noise over the sounds of the hospital. The beeps filled her ears with each drop of liquid from the IV bag into the tube injected into Richie's arm.

He was asleep.  His shoulder was patched up, but he had a shattered collarbone from the bullet, some lost blood, and a cut on his temple. There were no major complications and Richie had been awake for a few minutes and spoke to Adrian about something, but the sight of him laying on a white hospital bed with bandages and tubes still shook her.

Victoria remained on the long chair in the corner of the hospital room. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and she leaned to the side, staring out the window from the third story.

Everything that happened the night before was almost a blur.  Michael arrived with several men and the town police, but she couldn't remember how soon. She was too concerned with Richie's unconscious body and Adrian's stunned face.

"Did you kill them?"

Of all the times she had, no one ever asked her that question and to hear it come from Adrian seemed to drain all the life out of her. She couldn't think of an answer or an explanation. She could only stare back in silence.

"I'll check the driver," Adrian said. "He hasn't moved since we stopped. How's Richie?" He turned his head away and while it was clear he was trying to defuse the situation and refocus their attention, Victoria was plagued by what he thought of her.

Was she a murderer? Was she dangerous?  Could she be trusted to be around him and Richie?

She knew she was all of those things, but it was a secret. Adrian was a witness to a life her favorite cousin didn't even know about. Adrian saw her kill two men.

As she cradled Richie's body against her on the edge of the road and the lights from the cars stopped around them, she heard Adrian tell the police what happened as Michael checked on them and called the hospital to prepare for their arrival.

Their driver was shot in the head from one of the bullets that went through the windshield. By some miracle, it went through his cheek and out the base of his neck, missing his brain, his spine, and any other vital organ. He would be fine, too, and Michael was making sure he and Richie got the best care.

"I have some phone calls to make." She lifted her head towards the door of the room Richie had to himself. Michael came in and knelt down in front of her, taking her hand as he spoke in soft Ilocano to reassure her. "It'll be all right, Ading. We'll find out who those men are. For now, just watch Richie. He'll want someone to talk to when he's awake, okay?"

"Okay." Her voice was scratchy and she wasn't sure why. She hadn't cried.

Michael looked worried as he stood up. He squeezed her hand once more before stepping back. He exchanged looks with a disheveled Adrian and patted him on the shoulder as he exited.

There was nowhere else for Adrian to sit, so he circled the area on the other side of Richie's bed before stopping by a water container and pouring some into a paper cup. He rounded Richie's bed and stood in front of her.

"Drink some water. Michael will bring us something to eat," he said.

They hadn't eaten since the island, she recalled. She nodded and reached for the cup. Her hands brushed his as she took it and he didn't flinch. The water was welcomed and she drank the entire cup before handing it back to him.

"Thanks." He gave her a nod and turned to return to the cup. She stared at his back and crinkled her eyes. "Why did you lie?"

He tensed at once. She saw his hand tightened around the cup for a moment before looking down.