Chapter 2-1
439 Words
Chapter 2
“How’s he doing?”
“In the grand scheme of things, or—”
“Please, Doc.”
A wry sorry about that smile spread over Miles Maguire’s face. “No one gets my humour.”
They didn’t, including Mason, but he grinned anyway. Much as Mason tried to maintain distance, Miles was easy to like. No bad idea to stay on best terms with the man who might one day save his life and spent a deal of time patching a plethora of injuries. Miles was the resident doctor and substitute priest for those who wanted one—as Miles’s brother had been in the clergy, he was the closest connection to heaven they had.
“He’s not as bad as appearances would have you suppose. All the dirt and those ragged clothes were misleading. And he’s a tall, skinny thing. Still, lucky you found him when you did. He’s malnourished—deliberately kept so for some time, I believe. From the evidence and from what little he’s able to tell me. Not up to talking much, naturally. Dehydration is the largest problem, so I put him on an IV. He’s resting comfortably. Not my doing. I’ve not sedated him. Damn near unconscious.” Miles made busy straightening items which didn’t appear to require tidying, his expression pensive with a hint of anger.
“He can’t recall, but the drove must have charged through in the last three to five days. He was already weak, and…Well, after they left he was stuck, no food and little water. We’ll feed him, cautiously, so to avoid re-feeding syndrome, but he wouldn’t have survived much longer if the appropriation team hadn’t happened along. He has all the classic symptoms of dehydration. Headache, decreased blood pressure, and his tongue’s a little swollen. He’s dizzy, had cramps. The sunken eyes…” Miles pursed his lips. “Hardly surprising you took him for one of the dead. He fainted out there. Lucky he heard you and managed to speak, hmm? Else you might have stilled him.”
Hard to tell whether Miles forgave him the possibility or accused him. “Has he given you a name?”
“I have a name, thanks.”
Mason sighed at the ill-conceived humour before noticing the open annoyance on the doc’s face. He blinked in surprise as Miles glowered.
“What use is his name going to be to you? What’s your interest?”
Heat crept into Mason’s skin. If he was a praying man, he’d implore his discomfort not show. He’d waited, kept his distance, until he judged enough time passed so he might visit without causing the patient distress. He hadn’t considered someone might find his interest suspicious. His reasons were his own. “None. Just…I got him out of the cage.”
Miles nodded. “I heard. So? You saved his life and are now responsible for him?”
Mason wouldn’t go so far, but Miles gave him no chance to say so.
“Excellent. I hope you’re serious. Because for the next forty-eight hours, I want him watched round the clock. You can take a shift.”
- Writer
