The Pale: Volume One, Jacob Long [best beach reads TXT] 📗

so it couldn’t have been that long. Then again, considering how the nurse behaved, Adam figured it was possible he would never see the radio, ever.

Adam dropped his head heavily into the pillow and sighed. He thought being blown up was bad. Being dead was looking to be a nightmare, yet his time being alive again was quickly proving more painful.

“Where the hell is that nurse?” If nothing else good happened, however long he was going to be stuck in the hospital, Adam wanted his damn radio. Adam pressed the Call button hard and held it, drawing out the soft tone, and then he waited. Some indeterminate amount of time passed. Adam didn’t know how much; they saw fit to never give him a clock. It felt like enough, so he pressed it again and waited. The nurse was probably smoking a cigarette out behind the building. Or maybe she was listening to the tone sound and giggling to herself in one of the staff lounges. That possibility in mind, Adam pressed the button a third time. Then he pressed it a few more times in rapid succession.

Adam had worked himself into a fury and tossed the button aside. It landed on the floor with a clack. Even if the nurse was somewhere else or perhaps off shift, someone had to hear his request. Were there no other nurses in the hospital?

Adam looked out at the bare patch of hallway he could see outside his room. He had never seen a single person walk by. Hospitals are busy places. He shouldn’t have been able to go more than a couple of minutes without seeing someone hurry past. He supposed it was possible that he had seen someone and just lost the memory along with all the time he couldn’t account for. He could also be in a care home for coma patients and other invalids rather than a hospital. He heard those places could be awful.

Cursing, Adam tossed the covers off himself. He had been dressed in patient scrubs by someone during his sleep. Unthinking, Adam moved to roll off the bed. In response, many points on his body screamed out in agony, especially his ribcage and abdominal muscles. Adam quickly gave in to the pain and fell back. Whimpering, he reached down and pulled up the shirt. Underneath, a large bruise, yellowed with age, stained his left side, extending from his lower ribs down past the lap band on his marine-blue pants. Amorphous patches of discolored skin stood out from burns that could never fully heal.

Adam lowered the shirt. Staring resolutely at the ceiling and breathing heavily through his nose, he told himself it didn’t matter. He just needed to gather his willpower. Slowly, Adam played through the pain. Each breath was delivered through clenched teeth as he moved, but he managed to sit upright on the edge of the bed. He then took a brief respite to collect himself and pushed himself to his feet. More muscles ached in his legs—some from bruising, others from disuse. Electricity still shot through his right knee when any sort of force was applied on it, and the tissue between his left leg and pelvis felt as if it were being pinched in a vise grip. That, more than anything, made him cry out.

Adam’s plaintive cry finally drew someone’s attention. A well-built orderly rounded the corner and stepped into the room. He took one look at Adam and moved to support him. “Sir, I don’t think you should be up.”

Adam was grateful for the support. He nearly fell into the man’s shoulder. “Whoo, thanks. I just . . . I wanted to talk to somebody about my radio.”

“Yeah, all right. Just get back into bed, sir. There’s no need for you to be up and about.”

Adam resisted the orderly’s guiding hands. “No, man. I need to talk to someone. Where’s my doctor? Have I seen my doctor yet?”

“We’ll get your doctor, no problem. Just lie down.”

“No way, man,” Adam said. “I’ve seen how you people operate. I’ll just find him myself.”

“That’s not an option, sir,” the orderly replied firmly. “I’ll get him.” He turned to shout out the door. “Hey!”

Adam looked up to see another orderly just standing outside. He actually looked kind of familiar somehow.

“Get Mr. Rodriguez’s doctor.”

The orderly outside nodded and walked off.

“There. Will you lie down now?”

“No, man. Get off me. I told you.”

A man in a doctor’s coat walked in. He spoke with a Middle Eastern accent. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Adam saw him and nearly had a heart attack. The doctor was Harun El-Hashem. It wasn’t just a resemblance. There was no mistaking it. The doctor was Harun El-Hashem. The revelation actually caused Adam to stop struggling for a moment and just stare in mute horror. His body then began to fidget automatically. It was weak and absentminded at first, but then Adam committed to it. He started trying to forcefully jerk his arm from the grip of the orderly holding him firmly in place.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Rodriguez?” El-Hashem asked in all seriousness.

Adam growled at the drug lord. “You get the hell away from me!”

“Sir, what’s the problem?” the orderly asked.

“Get your damn hands off me!” Adam furiously twisted his body, trying to wriggle free.

The orderly planted his feet. “I need some help in here!” he called.

The other orderly rushed into the room from out of view. “Restrain him,” El-Hashem ordered calmly as the second orderly took hold of Adam’s free flailing appendages. The orderlies pushed Adam back to the bed and held him down as he kicked and screamed. His face was red with fury.

El-Hashem proceeded to calmly reach into the pocket of his coat, from which he removed a syringe. Adam’s vision blurred from the pain of his stressed injuries and the rage accompanying, but he could still see it clearly.

“I’m going to give you a shot, Mr. Rodriguez. It will help calm your nerves.”

“You’re not sticking me with anything!” Adam screamed as he floundered impotently.

“Relax. It will only take a moment.”

When Adam’s strength proved insufficient, he tried to bite one of the orderly’s hands, but it was just out of reach.

“Are you ready for your shot?” El-Hashem asked as if he were asking a child. “Here it comes!”

Adam turned back to the masquerading drug lord and looked right down the barrel of his nine-millimeter handgun. He was wearing his black outfit instead of the doctor’s costume.

Adam stopped struggling and only gaped in shock. The gun was pointed right at his head. Harun pulled the trigger and bored into Adam’s skull, coincidentally in the exact reverse of the path the bullet had taken before. Adam’s head bounced backward on his neck and blood spattered all over his pillow, but there was no darkness. Adam remained unmercifully awake and aware as a neat line of blood trickled from both ends of the hole.

Harun laughed like a comic-book villain. The satirical cackle echoed in Adam’s ventilated brain. Adam only stared at him in disbelief while he lamented the insanity. The whole scenario had flown right off the rails. He had to be in hell. He had to be.

Adam awoke with a start and an audible yelp, sitting up from the bed. His face was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The nurse, who was plugging in his radio at the end of the room, jumped. Having been startled by her presence, Adam jumped again. Then accepting the woman’s presence, his eyes scanned the room in paranoia. It appeared normal. It had always appeared normal.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked. The words might have been kind, had they not been spoken with her usual condescending attitude.

Adam’s response was almost automatic. “Yeah, fine.” He wasn’t sure it was the truth.

“Okay, well, I got that radio you wanted. I’ll find a cart or something to put your glass of water on in case you pass out again.”

Adam looked at her like she was insane. Had it really been easier to procure a small radio than a glass of water?

“Also,” the nurse continued, “your parents called about you. They said they would be arriving anytime, here.”

“Really?” Adam asked excitedly. “Wow. Everyone’s coming to visit me today.”

The nurse seemed confused. “Who else came to visit you today?”

“Uh, his name was Benito. He was a fellow soldier.” After saying that, Adam realized his mistake. The argument he and Benito had was all part of his paranoid nightmare.

“Oh, yes. I remember him,” the nurse said, and Adam pricked his ears up. “Hispanic man, yes? Shaven hair? That was days ago. It seemed like you two didn’t leave on the best terms.”

“Days ago?” Adam mused. It hadn’t felt like any time had passed at all since he arrived. Or no, wait. It did feel like days . . . maybe. He was having trouble deciding. But then that argument really did happen, right before El-Hashem put another bullet in his brain. Where did the dream start? Where did it end?

Adam looked at the nurse suspiciously, like she had grown demon horns and was deciding whether or not red wine would be a good pairing with his kidneys. How long had he been waiting on that radio? How long had he gone without his water?

The nurse saw this and gave him a strange look in return. “All right. I’m . . . just going to go.” She turned the radio on and moved to leave, but Adam had another question for her.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

The nurse hesitated. “Hm? Yes. I’m your nurse. I’ve been in and out of here many times.”

Adam shook his head. “No. No, I mean from before this. Haven’t I seen you before?”

The nurse seemed to think but then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling. He’d had it ever since he first saw her. Her face wasn’t just plain; it was familiar. He was good with faces and could recall having dealt with her somewhere before.

Having had enough, the nurse shuffled out to avoid more awkward conversation, and Adam watched her disappear out of the doorframe. With her gone, Adam relaxed a little, settling into his pillow. The radio was playing a somber country tune. Adam recognized it, too, but couldn’t recall the name. Much to his aggravation, it was the same song he had stuck in his head. It sounded like Johnny Cash singing. Adam didn’t really like country music.

Adam looked at the radio beyond the foot of his bed and grumbled. It was too far away. He didn’t want to aggravate his injuries just to change the channel.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Adam looked to see who it was. His excitement quickly died when he realized it wasn’t his parents. Instead, an older gentleman with white hair, wearing a very sharp suit and carrying an attaché case waited outside.

“May I come in?” the man asked.

Adam’s disappointment was apparent on his face. “Yeah,” he answered. “Who are you?”

The man bowed his head as he entered. “Mr. Rodriguez, I’m Anthony Hill. I’m from the inspector general’s office.”

Adam was instantaneously suspicious. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Adam looked at the lone chair at the end of the room and the small radio sitting in it already. “Uh, yeah. Could you turn that thing off while you’re over there?”

Mr. Hill moseyed over to the chair. “Actually, I rather like this song.” As he set the radio on the floor, he began singing along. “Where the coyotes howl, and the wind blows free . . . where there’s not a soul that will care for me.” Before picking up the chair, he looked over his shoulder and offered a modest smile. It would have been charming, even comforting, if Adam weren’t internally questioning the man’s motives.

Mr. Hill repositioned the chair at the side of Adam’s bed and sat with his attaché case in his lap. “How are you doing, Adam? Do you mind if I call you Adam?”

“No, and I’m fine. What’s the purpose of your visit? You don’t look much like a soldier.”

“Ah, yes, I was told you were not much for pleasantries by your leadership.” Mr. Hill undid the band on his case of papers. “You’re right. I’m not a soldier. I was, but I haven’t been for a long time now. I was an army legal specialist, but now I work in the private sector as a contracting expert in Army law. I’m your court-appointed lawyer.”

Adam stitched his eyebrows nearly together. “Why would I need a court-appointed lawyer?”

Mr. Hill laced his fingers together on top of his case before responding. “Yes, Adam, it’s also my duty to inform you that you are about to be charged with treason.”

“Treason? Are you serious?”

“Yes, Adam, I’m afraid I am. Your actions on the battlefield are being called into question. Sworn statements were taken from everyone involved, and it came to light that you basically facilitated the escape of the Afghani drug lord Harun El-Hashem.”

“Because he was holding women and children hostage!” Adam snapped. “He was going to kill everyone! Why am I the only person who understands this?”

Mr. Hill held a hand up in a calming gesture. “I know, Adam. I know. Everyone knows. At this point, it’s more about how it