Lab Rat part 60

Posted: March 24, 2011 in Fiction, Test Subject

The sound is set low, but I leave it. I don’t really care what the false face of the newscaster is saying. Something about increased crime rates or an orphanage burning down. The news is always depressing. I lay back down in time to see a sketch of a guy who looks a lot like me pop up in the info graphic. I bolt upright, and howl in pain. I bite down on it and fumble for the remote. I turn the volume up. “… Sought for questioning regarding the terrorist attack on motor row four days ago. If you see this man, call…” I stop listening to the blonde bimbo. Terrorist attack? Yeah, I guess that fits Johnson’s style. Blame it on the Middle East again. How did he explain the flying man part of it? Wait, did she say four days ago?

I’ve lost a lot of time. Good thing Taryn found me. The thing is, now I’m wanted in connection with a so called terrorist attack. I keep watching. No sign of a death toll. I’m guessing I managed not to kill anyone. I sigh. Pain wracks my body again. I gotta stop doing that. Maybe Taryn has some regenerator left. That would be nice. I start flipping channels. I haven’t watched in a while, and I’m soon reminded why. Nothing interesting on. Even the educational stuff is fluff. I settle for something involving sharks and lay back on my pillow. They haven’t found us yet, so I’m guessing there’s no need to worry. I’m glad the boss has her shit together. I’m sure I’d be imprisoned or dead by now if she didn’t. I watch as the camera zooms in on a nurse shark.

I come awake with a start as the door opens. I must have nodded off. I gasp again. Maybe there’s something wrong with my morphine drip. “Hey, doc…” I trail off. A tall, lean man in a black v-neck tee shirt walks in and takes off a battered black fedora. “Dad! What – how – huh?” I feel eloquent.

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” he says over his shoulder. A woman in an ivory halter top dress carries in a bag of groceries behind him. That’s not my mom, but that’s not surprising. “How you feeling, son?”

“Confused. Where’s Ta – Doctor Allison?”

“Who’s that?”

“My, uh, doctor,” I say somewhat lamely.

“Jennifer’s your doctor today, Ash.” He drops his hat on the dresser and comes over to the bedside chair. I look at the woman for a second. Blonde and blue eyed, of course. My dad definitely has a type. She sets the bag down on the floor and sits down on the end of the bed. “Asher, this is Jennifer.”

“Nice to meetcha.” I bury my crushing disappointment that Taryn isn’t here. I look myself over. “Um, how bad am I?”

“Straight to business, just like your pops.” She giggles a little. Her voice is high and cheerful. “Spiral fracture on your right femur, most of your ribs are cracked, abrasions to upper arms and torso, broken nose, and you probably have a concussion. You were shot in the shoulder, but I’m guessing you knew that since it’s been stitched. I pulled a lot of shrapnel out of you.” Wow.

 

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