LITMIR.BIZ

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A drink? Jell-O?”

      “I’m okay. Thanks.”

      “Use that call button if you want anything.”

      “I will.” At that he grinned, then turned his attention to the comic book.

      Am I going to die, too? Outside, Krissie had to stop and lean against the wall, closing her eyes and reaching for balance. How many times had she heard that question from boys only a few years older than this one? From men, women and children. And how many times had she had to lie about it?

      Am I going to die, too? The question haunted her nightmares. Bloody hands gripping her arm. Shattered bodies, shattered faces, shattered lives. Death riding her shoulder as if he were her partner.

       God!

      After a minute, she regained her equilibrium and was able to continue her ward check. Everyone else still slept, apparently unaware the grim reaper had paid a visit.

      Mrs. Alexander’s son—a rawboned man who looked as if he had worked hard outdoors his entire life—arrived and went into the room with David, then emerged ten minutes later by himself, walking away with a tight jaw and reddened eyes. David came out a minute later and approached the station.

      “She can go to the morgue now. They don’t want an autopsy.”

      “But…”

      “I told him we needed to do one anyway, to find out what happened. He said he doesn’t care what happened. It’s enough she’s gone, let her be.”

      Krissie nodded slowly.

      “We got the blood samples and we have the urine bag, right?”

      “Yes, I saw the lab guys take it all.”

      “Okay, then. We’ll have to rely on toxicology, a BUN test, the other tests I ordered. It’ll probably be enough.”

      She understood, though. He wanted to know exactly what had gone wrong, and if the blood and urine tests didn’t show anything, questions would plague him for a long time.

      He reached for the now-cold cup of coffee he’d left on the desk an hour ago and drank it down. Then he gave her a kind of cockeyed smile. “That was awful.”

      “I can get you fresh.”

      “Tell you what. Let me buy you breakfast at Maude’s. You get off at seven, right?”

      “Right.” Part of her hesitated, saying no, this would be stupid, but another part didn’t want to go straight home, not after this night. “It’s a deal. I’ll meet you there as soon as I get out of here.”

      “Deal. A little artery-hardening food is what I need right now.” Then, with a nod, he left.

      

      The sun was already well up and growing hot when Krissie left the hospital shortly after seven. Dressed again in her street clothes, carrying her small backpack, she walked across the pavement to her car. Her eyes felt gritty, a sure sign she needed some sleep, but she’d toughed this out before countless times. Impatiently, she ran her fingers through her short, streaked hair.

      As she started to pull out of the parking lot, a small wave of panic washed over her and she almost turned for home rather than downtown and Maude’s diner.

      This was purely professional, she told herself. Two colleagues getting together to eat and unwind a bit before going home to bed. There was nothing to be afraid of.

      But her recently defunct relationship had left its own set of scars, among them her fear and dislike of controlling men. That little outburst from David last night about his expectations of her as a nurse had been controlling. She still squirmed a little when she thought about it, but reminded herself that he hadn’t behaved that way during their encounters the rest of the night. Still, he had the potential to become a problem of the kind she had just shucked.

      But only if she let him, she reminded herself. Keep it professional, keep it purely social and don’t let him get close. That was a recipe for avoiding trouble, one she intended to follow.

      Feeling more comfortable about it, she found a parking space near Maude’s and walked the rest of the way to the diner. For some reason, Maude had added a Café sign to her window, even though the neon above announced City Diner. Not that it mattered, she supposed. Everyone still called it Maude’s, or Maude’s Diner.

      Inside, wonderful aromas filled the air, and the clanking of flatware and the clatter of crockery joined the hum of early-morning conversation. Like many such places, the early-morning weekday crowd was composed mostly of older people, men, women and couples, who had no need to think about getting ready to go to work. Later in the day, the composition would change, first with the lunch crowd, then the dinner crowd.

      David stood out: a man in his prime, maybe around forty, with dark hair that didn’t yet show a dash of gray. In his dark blue polo shirt and khaki slacks, he looked lithe and fit. He’d taken a table near the window and already had a cup of coffee in front of him. He started to get up as she approached, but she waved him back into his seat and then slid onto the vinyl-covered chair facing him.

      Before she had a chance to say a word, a cup slammed onto the table in front of her and started to fill with coffee. She looked up and saw Maude’s daughter, Mabel; the younger woman was surely a clone of her mother.

      “Good to see you back, Krissie,” Mable said as she topped off the mugs. “Menu? Or do you know what you want?”

      Krissie knew better than to ask for anything unusual or healthful. This wasn’t a place for healthful eating. “Two-egg onion omelet and rye toast, please.”

      Mabel nodded, then looked at David. “The usual?” “Please. With some extra hash browns.” “Got it.” Mabel sort of smiled and walked away, coffee carafe in hand.

      Krissie smiled. “You’re going for broke.” “The hash browns, you mean? Yeah. I need every calorie I can get. I still have office hours, starting at nine.”

      “You should be catching a nap then.”

      “I couldn’t sleep right now.”

      She looked down at her coffee, then across at him again. “I would have thought you’d have learned to sleep anytime, anywhere.”

      “Because of being military?” He shrugged. “That used to be easier. You might not understand this yet, I don’t know. But the losses are harder now. Maybe because the patients aren’t usually in such a bad state.”

      Krissie nodded slowly. “I guess I can see that.”

      “Maybe you won’t feel that way. I hope not.”

      “Too early to tell. So what’s your background?”

      He sipped his coffee as if buying time to consider what he should say.

      “Oh, come on,” she prodded. “You read my jacket. Fair’s fair.”

      At that, he smiled. “Okay. I enlisted at eighteen, became a medic in time for Desert Storm. Bad enough, but I was still on fire with the desire to be able to do more to help, so eventually I went to college, got admitted to medical school. The army picked up the tab on my medical training in return for a six-year commitment. It was mostly okay. Until Iraq.”

      “Yeah.”

      “Same for you?”

      She shook her head, biting her upper lip. “Not quite. I went to nursing school on scholarship and enlisted after I got my B.S. in nursing. The navy trained me to be a nurse practitioner, and the next thing I knew, I was in Asia on the USS Hope after the tsunami.”

      “My God, that must have been awful.”

      “Not my favorite memory. But after that, I was attached to the Marine Corps and served in Iraq.”

      “In the field,” he said as if it weren’t a question.

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