Chapter 4:
A slap on his foot woke Doyle up with a rude jolt. With only one eye barely open, he expected to find himself dead in a backstreet gutter but, instead, found he lay in crisp white sheets. The light green walls, unmistakable for a hospital. At his feet stood Sigmund, or more like leaning. He was surprised to find him in San Francisco. He should be with Helena.
He tried to sit and failed, strapped to the bed. “What are you doing here? Is Helena back? What the hell is with the straps?” Too many questions at once.
Sigmund smiled back. That was when Doyle realized he stood on crutches.
“You were fighting back when they brought you in, so the doctors strapped you down.” Carl’s voice came from his right side. He lay in the bed next to his. “By the way, I am fine. Thanks for asking.
