A Forest of Corpses (26 page)

Not anybody."

"I'm not leaving until I see him."

"Then you're going to have to settle down and stop acting like a madman. You keep this up and they'll toss you in the can. You don't want that, do you?"

This was the first thing that actually penetrated my rage.

Like a slap of ice water, I blinked and stared at her. "All I want is to know he's going to be okay," I whispered.

"I know. I want that, too. We all do. But you aren't helping anyone by being hysterical. He's in good hands and right now we have to let them do their job."

"What am I going to do?" I realized how plaintive and weak that sounded but I couldn't help it anymore. I was tired of being strong. I wanted Alex in charge again. He was my real strength. "I'm so tired."

She guided me over to a row of hard orange chairs and forced me to sit. "You've been through a lot in the last few days. We need you to tell us about that, Jason. Tell us exactly what happened up there. Can you do that?"

"I...I don't know."

"Do it for Alex, okay?"

"I...okay." I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Now?"

"Yes. Then you can rest, I promise. And I'll make sure someone tells you as soon as Alex is able to see you."

"Where is he?"

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"He's in surgery. He'll be in there for hours. But the doctor's told me it looks good. He was brought in, in time.

You did a good thing, Jason. You saved his life."

I shook my head, feeling my filthy hair flop over my forehead, almost reaching my eyes. "My fault. I made him leave his gun at home. If I hadn't he wouldn't have been hurt. My fault—"

"No, Jason." She shook me again. "Not your fault. None of this is your fault."

I buried my head in my hands. She patted my shoulder awkwardly.

"He's going to be okay. He needs you to believe that."

Finally, I raised my head to meet her gaze. "He is?"

"Yes, he is. Now go, get some rest. Come back in the morning."

After I answered all their questions, I let a uniformed cop take me out of the hospital to a nearby motel where he booked a room for me. I think I remember entering the room.

I thought about taking a shower but never made it that far. I didn't even take off my Merrills when I fell across the bed and passed out.

The next day one of the Sheriff's deputies drove me up the mountain to get Alex's pickup and get a more detailed report of what we had seen on our hike. Now that I was no longer under their suspicion radar I felt free to talk to them. They already had statements from all the people we had encountered on our hike, and the Sheriff gave me the impression they had also recovered the bodies of the dead 246

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hikers, including, sadly, the two women we had seen with the young man.

I had been about to drive off when I caught movement in the distance. I paused, wondering if it was more hikers, and was startled when the Shepherd crept out. He looked terrible, fur matted and burr covered, his paws lacerated from too many days running over rough ground. I didn't think twice. I called him over and when he shoved his nose into my hand and whined I opened the truck door and signaled him to jump in. I swear he sighed when he settled on the passenger's seat, spilling over the sides he was so big.

The Sheriff watched this, a bemused expression on his face. "He yours?"

"No, but we've got some shared history. I can't leave him up here."

He shrugged. "Well, you take care, sir."

"Thanks." I shut the door and fired up the truck. All the way down I struggled over what I was going to do with the dog. His owner was dead, I had no way of knowing if there was anyone else who might want him and I sure as hell wasn't going to dump him in some pound awaiting God knows what fate.

In the end, I found a kennel willing to take him until I decided what I would do. Knowing the choice wasn't really going to be in my hands. Only Alex could make that kind of decision.

I patted the dog one more time on the head before the kennel girl led him away, then headed back to the hospital where I planned to stay until I knew Alex was safe.

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I blinked. Blinked again. Then I shut my eyes against the glare and realized the pain was gone. Did that mean I had died, and there really was an afterlife? Wouldn't that be a fucking bitch? Without opening my eyes again I took a deep, lung-purifying breath. No, this can't be heaven or hell. Unless one of them smells like antiseptic and starch. My awareness came back in slow increments. I was lying on my back, underneath stiff, but clean, sheets. I wiggled the toes of my left foot. They scraped across the sheet that covered them. A rush of joy filled me. I wasn't paralyzed. I wriggled my right foot and felt the same satisfaction when it moved, too.

Then I began a closer examination of the rest of my body, one part at a time. My side felt stiff, but the sheer agony that had existed before I had passed out for good was gone. In its place, a numbness I suspected was morphine or Demerol induced.

Voices still filled my head but they were gentle, civilized ones. They were real. Wheels squeaked and rattled over hard floors. Metal banged and music played something soft and classical. Something else beeped beside me and I was vaguely aware of a needle in my arm, tape tugging at my skin. I suspected it was an IV. How long had I been here?

Hell, where was
here
? Was I in Santa Barbara or L.A.? How bad was I? My memories were flaky at best, but I knew I had been dying. That memory was too solid to be a dream or a hallucination.

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I suspect I came damn close to taking the big sleep.

I was fuzzy on all of it. Who had found me? Who had brought me out? Jason—

Jason!
I surged up, adrenaline pumping through me. My eyes flew open. I looked around frantically, ignoring the hands that tried to hold me down. The face peering down at me was a stranger. Dark skinned, gray-streaked beard. He had sharp, brown eyes hiding behind thick glasses.

I tried to shove his hands away but didn't have the strength to lift paper. I was pitifully exhausted when I sank back into the bed. I blinked up at him, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't bring him into focus. Then I realized I wasn't wearing my glasses. When had I lost them?

"Take it easy, Mr. Spider. You're in Cottage Hospital.

You've been through a rough spot, but I assure you that you're going to be okay."

I tried to remember where Cottage Hospital was. Santa Barbara. That didn't answer my main question. Where was Jason—?

Then he came into view. He looked like shit. I tried to smile at him, but from the look on his face I knew the effort failed miserably. His attempt was equally disastrous. His eyes were full of pain and exhaustion, and something I didn't want to identify. But I knew what it was. Fear. When I raised my hand to touch him, the IV in my arm jerked. Jason grabbed my wrist and leaned in, his face inches from mine. So close I could smell his sweat and fear. Sweat dotted his forehead and deep pouches of darkness under his eyes made him look like a cadaver.

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"Don't, Alex. Don't move."

"I want..." I was appalled at how weak I sounded. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Want to touch you."

He leaned down and touched his lips to mine. His hand stroked my cheek and I closed my eyes again, savoring the feel.

"I love you, Alex. Now I want you to stop fighting and rest."

"How...long?"

I saw him look over me at the man on the other side of the bed. My doctor, I assumed. He nodded but it was Jason who spoke.

"Ten days. You've were in surgery for six hours and they moved you from ICU to here four days ago."

Ten days? Ten days gone who knew where. I didn't need Jason telling me to know that a lot of those ten days had been spent keeping me alive. A chill sent shivers down my limbs and I realized to my horror that I was shaking.

My distress upset Jason. He sat on the bed facing me.

Holding my shoulders in both hands he leaned down and whispered for my ears only. "You're going to be okay, Alex.

But you have to rest. I won't leave you. I'll be here forever.

No matter what, I'm never leaving you again."

I had to say it, because if I didn't, maybe I'd never be able to again. From the looks everyone was giving me, I knew I wasn't in the clear yet.

"I love you, Jason. Always. Never forget."

"I know, hon." And his lips brushed mine. "I love you.

More than you will ever know."

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Relief washed over me, along with a smile.

"I need my glasses," I finally whispered. "I can't really see you without them."

"Right now that's probably a good thing. Don't worry, I'll have some new ones brought to you. Now you have to rest.

And that's an order from your doctor, not me."

"Good. I don't want you forgetting your place, do I?"

"Never. I know where it is. Right beside you."

Still smiling, I let sleep claim me again.

* * * *

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The minute I knew Alex was no longer conscious I got up off the bed and started pacing. I was torn between wanting to scream or fall on my knees and beg Doctor Abena to make it right. He watched me, silently. The gibbering horror I felt when I had stumbled onto Alex after I drew the two shooters away to their encounter with my bear, still hovered in the back of my mind. It was too ready to unleash again if I didn't keep rigid control. I'd asked about the men the police had arrested. Last I heard one of them was in another hospital, they were all under federal indictment for drugs and interstate commerce or some such bullshit. I didn't care. All I could remember was the first sight of Alex. Sprawled on his side like a discarded sack of potatoes. His hands had been bloody, his fingernails torn off, his face scratched and covered in pine needles and dirt. Flies buzzed around him, landing on his lips and crawling over his half-shut eyes. Crawling and buzzing everywhere, including his still open wound.

I had dressed that wound maybe five days before. Cleaned it with antiseptic and bandaged it. Crudely, yes, but it had been
clean
. When he forced me to leave him, the bullet wound had been a slice across his side, opening up a six-inch gash that had still been leaking blood.

This time it was crawling with maggots. Small, white things writhed in Alex's flesh. In my more frequent hikes, when I was younger, I had come across my share of carcasses, from fresh to reeking piles of maggots and beetles.

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But this was Alex, and he wasn't dead.

I don't know what I would have done if the sheriffs and the rangers hadn't arrived then. They had come, not only responding to my call, but to the two bikers who had reported gunshots and subsequent calls that Danny and Niko made after I left them.

It had taken them hours to get Alex off the mountain to Santa Barbara and the hospital. Hours that had shaved a decade off my life. They had taken him straight to the OR and six hours later had put him in ICU. I had thought it was over then, but now this Dr. Abena told me Alex had to have more surgeries. That he wasn't out of the woods yet.

I stopped pacing and faced him. If he saw my rage he didn't react to it.

"Are you still saying he needs more operations?"

"At least one," Abena said. "His body has been through tremendous trauma. The maggots were a great aid in keeping infection at bay, without them I'm not sure he would have survived. But even with their presence, there is still considerable organ damage."

I had been horrified when I found his wound infested with fly maggots. But according to this doctor, if left, the wound would have become necrotic and would have poisoned Alex's blood. It would have killed him long before I found him. The maggots had consumed the dead flesh, keeping it from poisoning him. It was humbling to think we owed Alex's life to a disgusting grub.

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"I've scheduled the first of them for tomorrow. Following that, I will assess him again, then we can talk about the next, and hopefully last, operation."

I stared helplessly over at Alex. I wished he had stayed awake, even though I was glad he was resting, getting stronger. I wanted his strength. But I also hated having this decision put in my hands. But Alex had no family beyond his ex-wife and she was hardly one I could approach about what to do. I was his registered partner, so the whole thing was square on my shoulders, where I didn't want it. Alex was the one who was supposed to be in charge. He should be making these decisions.

Only he couldn't, could he?

I had his life in my unqualified hands again. And the responsibility terrified me.

I took a deep breath and without taking my eyes off Alex, I nodded. "Then schedule it. Do whatever you have to do to make him well."

"I'll see it through myself."

He left soon after, leaving me alone with my lover and my dark, empty thoughts.

I barely left Alex's side. Every night someone would come in and send me home. Only there was no way I was driving all the way to Goleta every night, so I kept the motel near the hospital. I would eat breakfast on the way in, barely stop for lunch, which usually consisted of coffee and a sugar fix that I paid for later in the day. Dinner was barely much more.

I was losing weight. I didn't notice or pay any attention until Nancy came by to see how he was doing. Since she had 255

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