He was half carried, not into Yaz's house, but into an operating room. Nitro was finding it hard to focus, but there seemed to be something wrong with this place. “Where... are we?”
A woman in a white coat led him to a table. “I'm Cathy. This is my place.”
“You a... doctor?” Nitro tried to pin down what was bothering him, but it was taking all his strength just to stay conscious.
“Sort of.” She smiled. “I'm a vet.”
“Where'd... you... serve?” A field surgeon was good; she'd have plenty of experience with bullet wounds.
“No.” She laughed. “A vet—you know, an animal doctor.”
“Not... a... fucking... poodle.” Despite his objection, he allowed Dan to help him out of his coverall and onto the table. “Get... rid... of the... car... an' the...bag. Make... sure...”
“No one will find them. Trust me.” Dan grinned. “Now be a good boy. Maybe the vet will give you a treat when she's done.”
“Fuck... you.” Nitro braced himself as Cathy cut away his tee shirt.
She hissed. “This is a mess, Nitro. I'm going to have to knock you out.”
“Can... you do that?” Every breath hurt.
“Sure.” Cathy grinned. “I've hardly ever lost a patient.”
“That's... reassuring.” Nitro lay back and closed his eyes as the needle was inserted into his arm. “Just... think of... me as an... oversized... Great... Dane.”
He knew he was dreaming; he could only ever run like this in his dreams. Mouse was running faster, though, and he couldn't catch her. She turned and called out his name...
“Nitro. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Nitro unglued his eyes and swallowed. “Doc?” His voice sounded like he'd been gargling razor blades.
She smiled. “Normally I'd leave my patients in a cage to recover, but I'm not sure you'd fit. I can let you stay here for a short while, but I'm afraid you're going to have to go to Yaz's place. It's not going to be pleasant, but I have a business to run, and shot bikers upset the nurses.”
“'Kay.” Nitro closed his eyes again. “Thanks.”
“Get some sleep. I'll come and talk to you after I've seen to my patients with tails.”
It felt as though his eyes had only been closed for a few seconds when Cathy returned. He took a sip of water from the paper cup she held to his lips. “So?”
“The bullet entered your right shoulder, hitting your clavicle. It then ricocheted and exited just below the joint where the upper arm, humerus and the scapula, meet. The good news is that, by some miracle, it missed both the major vein and artery travelling through the shoulder, so the area has been receiving lots of oxygenated blood. The scapula appears to be intact, with minimal injury to the surface that meets the humerus. The bad news is, your collarbone is broken, probably because it took the majority of the impact, and when the bullet ricocheted it chipped your humerus. The top of your lung took a hit and was partially collapsed, and there is some ligament damage to your shoulder. I can't be sure, but hopefully it's relatively minimal."
“So, it's fucked. Guess I should be grateful I'm left-handed.”
Cathy shook her head. “I might not have operated on a human before, but I'm a very good surgeon. You'll be out of commission for at least two months. There's a possibility that the clavicle won’t knit together—although if you're sensible it should—and there may be nerve damage, so you might need further surgery.” She smiled. “But trust me, you're incredibly lucky. Half an inch either way, and it would have been a different story.”
26
“I don't need a fucking wheelchair.” Nitro scowled as the prospect opened the door of Yaz's SUV. “I got shot in the shoulder, not the leg.”
“Cathy said you'll be weak from blood loss and the effects of the Ketamine.” Dan's scowl matched his own. “I've been running around like an idiot, trying to find a chair for you.”
Truthfully, Nitro did feel pretty weak. But he hated feeling like an invalid, and it was only when Yaz gave him a death glare that he decided to capitulate. “Fine. But I'm not happy. And if you're gonna treat me like an invalid, when we get inside, you can take my leg off and wash my stump.”
“I'm not your nurse.”
“You'll be whatever I say you are, prospect.”
Dan sighed and looked over at a smirking Yaz. “How long is he gonna be here?”
“He can't fly until his lung is fully healed. Cathy thinks that'll be at least two weeks, so it looks as though we're stuck with him for a while.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I'll give him a bed, but I've got better things to do than run around after a bad-tempered biker. Bugs is bad enough.”
“Jesus. I'd better get my top rocker for this.”
“Right here, folks.” Nitro eased himself out of the car and into the chair. “Don't worry, Yaz, you won’t even know I'm here. Prospect. I need you to get my stuff from the clubhouse, an’ score me some decent weed.”
“You will not be smoking until you're healed, Nitro.” Yaz unlocked the front door. “Do you want to eat, or would you rather have a sleep first?”
“Think I'll get my head down. Still kinda feel like I'm out of it.” A thought occurred to him as Dan rolled him through the house. “Where's my cell?”
“Dunno man. Thought you had it.” Dan opened a door. “Yaz had me put a bed in the dining room. She thought it would be easier for you to get around. There's a bathroom across the hall if you need to piss.”
He'd been talking to Mouse, and then it all got hazy. Fuck! “What did you do with the car?”
“Crushed it.” Dan grinned. “And threw the rucksack in the incinerator at Cathy's place. No one will find anything.”
“Shit. I dropped my cell.”
“In the car? Man, that sucks.”
Shit. Mouse would be going out of her mind. “I need you to call England and let them know what's happened. And before you ask, no, I don't have the number.”
“Now?”
Nitro looked longingly at the bed. “Now would be nice. Just tell them what happened and to call me if Mouse gets in touch.”
“Okay. You want me to help you get into bed first?” Dan eyed the sling. “Cathy said you weren't to move your arm.”
“I can manage. Just go an' make the call.”
~oOo~
Mouse had tried to take Digger's advice. She knew—or at least part of her knew—that she probably wouldn't get any answers straight away, and the time difference meant that it would be hours before anyone contacted the UK. She'd tried to stay calm, tried to eat. Tried to do everything that he and Maggie told her to do. She'd paced the kitchen, stared at countless cold cups of tea. She'd puked and cried until she couldn't do it anymore.
“I'm gonna go.” She grabbed the keys of the jeep. “I can't stay here.”
“You're in no fit state to drive. I'll take you.” Maggie pushed her chair back.
“No. I want to be on my own.”
“This ain't about what you want, Mouse.” Digger stood. “It's about what's best for you.”
She was so tired of people telling her what was best for her. All her fucking life, there had been someone making decisions on her behalf. “Please, Mags.”
Maggie sighed. “You'll be careful?”
“Of course.” Mouse forced her face into a smile. “I'm okay.”
While Maggie might have been easy to persuade, Digger was having none of it. He followed close on her heels as she crossed the yard. “You are not driving to Bristol.”
“Just back off, Digger.” Mouse whirled on him. “For once in your fucking life, butt out. If I hadn't listened to you in the first place, I wouldn't be going through any of this. You were the one who said I should give Nitro a chance. It was you who said that him being a Freak wouldn't matter. Well guess what. It does. I'm pregnant, and the man I fell in love with—the father of my unborn child—is thousands of miles away with a bullet in him.”
“He'd still have a bullet
in him.”
“Yes, but I wouldn't know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I wouldn't be feeling any of the shit that I'm feeling right now. Just... Just stay out of my life in future.”
Digger shrugged and spread out his arms. “Fine. Go. But don't come crying to me when you crash into a tree.”
Mouse didn't crash into a tree, but after only five miles, she was so overwhelmed by panic that she had to pull over. She climbed out of the jeep and tried to slow the frantic beating of her heart.
There was a church on the crest of a hill, and without thinking, she began to walk towards it. Mouse hadn't stepped inside a church since she'd lived with her grandmother, and she wasn't sure what made her push open the heavy wooden door. It was cool inside, and smelled just the same as the church she'd gone to as a kid: Church of England—more polish than incense. Mouse looked around at the stone arches and stained glass windows, wondering what the hell she was doing in there. She walked along the aisle and sat on a pew at the front, staring up at the window, waiting for... what?
Mouse was an Anarchist. She viewed religion in the same way as she did politics—it was just another means of control—and she didn't believe in imaginary men in the clouds, either. But it was peaceful in there. She sighed and pulled her stash from her jacket pocket.
“You can't smoke in here.”
Mouse nearly jumped out of her skin; she'd had no idea she wasn't alone. “Shit... Sorry.” She tried to smile as the vicar approached. “Old habits die hard, huh?”
“Are you alright?”
Mouse shrugged. “Not really. Just needed a minute, I guess.”
“Take as long as you need.” The vicar smiled. “But no smoking.”
“Shouldn't be smoking in any case.” She stuffed the tin in her pocket. “I'm pregnant.”
“Congratulations. May I sit?” When she didn't answer, he sat beside her. “Is that why you're here?”
Mouse shook her head. “I don't know why I'm here.” She shot him a sidelong look. “And don't go thinking I've had a revelation or something. I think I just needed somewhere quiet. My... The father of my baby has been hurt. I was on my way to find out if he's going to be okay, and I had a bit of a panic attack.”
“Would you like to pray for him?”
Mouse shook her head. “I'm an atheist.”
The vicar laughed. “God won’t mind. I'll pray for him later. What's his name?”
“Isn't God supposed to be omniscient? I'd've thought he already knew.”
“He does, but I don't.”
“His name's Nitro.”
“Nitro?”
“Yeah, I know. It's a wank name.”
“What's he like, this Nitro of yours?”
Mouse smiled. “Funny, smart. Annoying.” She looked up at the image of Christ on the stained glass window above the alter. “Looks a bit like him.”
“And you love him very much.”
“Yeah, I do.” She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. “If I lose him...” She sniffed. “Pray hard, Vicar.”
“Call me Andrew.” He handed her a tissue.
“Mouse.” She blew her nose. “Now you can pray for both of us.”
“Indeed I can.” She took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I'll leave you alone now. The vicarage is just over the road if you want a cuppa before you leave.”
Mouse looked up as he began to walk away. “Thanks.”
Andrew stopped and raised an eyebrow. “What for?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “For not telling me that he's is going to be okay. Kinda had my fill of platitudes today.”
“That's in the hands of my boss, Mouse.”
Mouse felt herself smile. “Or not.”
“I think I'll put you down as an agnostic. Just to appease the man upstairs.” Andrew grinned. “It never hurts to hedge your bets.”
She felt better as she walked back to her jeep—still worried as all hell, but calmer and more in control. Mouse climbed back into the ancient jeep and took a deep breath. She turned on the radio and changed the channel to Classic FM, then, soothed by Brahms, drove along the leafy lanes towards the motorway and Bristol.
~oOo~
There was only one bike outside the Drip as Mouse pulled into the car park. Her heart was beating so hard as she walked toward the pub, she imagined they could hear it inside. She steeled herself and stepped inside.
Carter didn't hesitate as she stepped across the threshold. He slid from the barstool and pulled her into a hug. “He's okay, Mouse.”
Mouse wasn't a hugger, but she knew if she let go of Carter, her legs would give way. “Really?”
“Really.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away from him. “He's a bit weak, and has probably fucked up his ink, but he'll be good as new in no time. Come and sit down. You look as though you could do with a stiff drink.”
“Can I have a cup of tea?” She followed him to a table by the window.
“You are aware that this is a biker bar?”
Mouse nodded and sat down. “Not drinking at the moment.”
“Fine.” He looked over to the woman behind the bar. “She wants tea.” Carter pulled a phone from inside his cut and dialled. “Yaz, is he awake? His ol' lady is here.” He passed the phone to Mouse. “Try not to give him a hard time. I'll give you some privacy.”
“Thanks.” Mouse waited until Carter had resumed his place at the bar. “Nitro?”
“Hey, punk.” His voice sounded rough, as though he'd just woken up. “Were you worried?”
“That has to be the dumbest question in the history of forever. Of course I was worried.” She couldn't stop the sob from escaping. “I thought you were dead, Nitro.”
“Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Lost my cell, an' was too unconscious to call you back in any case.” He fell silent, but she could hear him breathing. “Did you mean what you said about getting rid of our kid?”
She didn't want to have this conversation. “Can we not talk about this now?”
“Now's as good a time as any. I want us to have this kid, punk. Not sure how we work through shit if you go for an abortion.” He coughed, and groaned. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“That sounds a lot like emotional blackmail.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. But it don't make it any less true. It's a big deal, Mouse.”
She was well aware of how big a deal it was. “I know.” Mouse sighed. “I'll be a crap mum.”
“Probably, but I'll be a great dad, so it balances out. I know this ain't the ideal time, an' it would be better if we had a house an' shit. But we can do this.” He coughed again. “Say you'll keep it.”
She'd known when she'd thought she'd lost him that she was going to keep this baby—a piece of Nitro that would be forever hers. “You do all the night feeds.”
“Sure.” She could imagine the size of his grin.
“And no more getting shot in foreign countries.”
“I swear, if I get shot again, it'll be on British soil.”
“Not funny, Nitro.”
He laughed, then groaned again. “I love you, punk.”
“I love you too, biker boy. Now get some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”
“You done?” Carter put a mug in front of her and sat down.
“Yeah. Thanks.” She held out the phone.
He shook his head. “Keep it. Nitro was very insistent that you had your own phone.”
“I can't afford...”
“He said you'd say that. Don't worry, he's paying.” Carter grinned. “Poor bloke's got it bad for you.”
“He is going to be okay, isn't he?”
“Yeah. It'll be a while, but he'll bounce back.” He pulled a tin from his pocket and took out a joint. “Wanna go out for a smoke? You look as though you could do with one.”
She really could. Mouse shook her head. “Not smoking.”
“Not drinking, not smoking? Shit. Don't tell me you're...”
Mouse grinned. “Ask me again in a
couple of months.”
“Does he know?” She nodded and he laughed. “Then I reckon he'll be bouncing back in record time.”
A draught caught the back of her neck, and Carter looked up. Mouse turned to see who he was watching so intently. “You like her, huh?”
“Scarlet?” He shook his head. “Nah. Every fucker's been through that. She's okay for a fuck, but that's about it.” Despite his denial, Carter's eyes never left Scarlet as she walked across the room.
Mouse rolled her eyes. “I'd like it noted that it's only out of respect that I'm not going to lecture you about double standards.”
“Noted.” Carter shook his head. “Nitro's gonna have his work cut out with you.”
Mouse smiled, and sipped her tea. “I'm just saying that, if you took the time to get to know her, she might surprise you.”
“Says the girl who punched her in the face.”
“I punched Nitro in the face as well. And that turned out okay.”
27
Heathrow Airport, Mouse decided, was one of the circles of Hell. It was almost as if it had been designed specifically to put a person on edge. She'd managed to get lost twice on the way there, and then had to take out a mortgage to pay to park—not helped, in part, by the fact that she'd arrived ridiculously early. Armed police made her jittery, and over-tired, screaming kids were setting her teeth on edge. It was too loud, too crowded, and now Nitro's flight was delayed. Fucking perfect.
Nitro's homecoming was another source of anxiety. She was looking forward to it, of course, but there was something not right with him, and she couldn't pin down what it was. She'd tried to tell herself that he was just frustrated with being laid up, and that their truncated conversations were because international calls were stupidly expensive, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was something else. She glanced up at the arrivals board and sighed—another half an hour. If she drank any more tea, she'd be peeing before they left the car park.
Finally, after the longest half hour in Christendom, the board announced he'd landed. Mouse ran her fingers through her hair and waited anxiously for him to show.
And then he was there, right in front of her. He looked tired and drawn, and there were hollows under his cheeks that hadn't been there before. Mouse wanted to throw her arms around his neck, but he had a broken collar bone, and the sling on his arm meant that he wouldn't be able to hold her in his arms. And although he was smiling, it wasn't the wide, dorky grin she'd come to expect from him. She looked up and blinked away the tears that were pricking her eyes. “Hi.”
Itinerant Child Page 23