You Get Full Credit For Being Alive

Chapter Eight

I stayed with Sean until his next therapist came in then took an hour to run Della back home and do something a little unscrupulous to one of my co-workers. Not really bad; I mean, Luke was a decent guy, but he had the swing shift I needed. I wanted to work four to midnight, which meant getting Luke out of the way.

Yes, I had memorized all my co-worker's schedules and might have peeked through their personnel files once or twice to get their home addresses. That was just being thorough.

Luke lived a little off the beaten path like me, and he had a Chevy Impala that he loved and adored. It was a nice car, really nice, the kind of flashy car I could never imagine myself driving. I almost felt a little bad as I slashed all four tires, then did his son's motorcycle too, just to be safe. The chances of Luke catching a bus were nonexistent, and a taxi would cost too much. He was effectively grounded for the evening. Now to make sure I got his shift.

I got into my Jay gear, went to the staff lounge and got myself a cup of coffee. I sat back on the lumpy couch that none of the nurses or doctors would touch, put my feet up on the stool in front of me and turned on the TV. Baseball. Could be worse.

At about ten minutes after four my manager stormed into the lounge, probably looking to rouse someone from their mandatory fifteen minutes a little early thanks to Luke, and did a double take when he saw me. "Jones? What are you doing here so early?"

"Dude, so, my cable got shut off and I ran outta coffee at home, so I thought I'd come here 'cause, y'know, it's free."

My manager's eyebrows lifted in a brief moment of "Is this person real?" before going on the offensive. "This hospital is not your home away from home, Jones! You don't just get to use the facilities in your off hours whenever you please. You're here to work. And now that you're here, you can do some work." Oh, he sounded so pleased with himself. I loved it when a setup came together.

"Huh?"

"Luke's out for the day, transportation issues. As you're not doing anything better, you can take his shift."

"But dude... the Braves..."

"The Braves can wait," he said with a sneer. "The floors can't. Get suited up and over to the ER."

"Uh... 'kay."

So I started my shift early, and I listened to Shawn get speech therapy— he could make some noises, with a lot of prompting, but he couldn't pull them together into words yet— have dinner and get showered before the nurse helped him back into a clean bed. "You're doing so well!" Bertha cooed at him, and I smiled at the surge of pleasure I got from hearing that. He was getting better. I'd have to make sure he continued to improve once I got him home.

A lot of the staff left between five and six, and even more left at eight. By ten the hospital had been pared down to its skeleton crew, and I was hyperaware of everything around me, every moment, every sound, every silent space. I positioned myself on Shawn's floor and worked slowly, like the dullard Jay was, and let my senses sharpen. Something was going to happen soon, I just knew it. I could feel it.

I knew everyone who worked on this floor, so when I saw a man that I didn't recognize, dressed as an orderly, come out the stairwell and head straight for Shawn's room I knew this was it. He was a tall, lanky guy, not quite my height and skinnier but with a lot of reach on him. I didn't see any bulges indicating a weapon, but I followed him silently down the hall and watched him quietly close Shawn's door. I eased it open a crack and watched the scene unfold. I wanted to make sure this guy was the assassin before I acted.