Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [130]
He was on his knees and elbows and his hands were at his face, trying uselessly to catch the rush of blood from his nose. He didn’t know what had hit him. Blood was shooting out both nostrils and he was also swallowing it as fast as he could so that he wouldn’t choke on it. He felt nothing, but blood shot out in a black flood, he saw it pool on the ground under him. He heard voices but they sounded distant. Don’t, he thought. Don’t die.
CHARLIE WAS STARTLED OUT OF A dream in which he was protesting, “I can’t do it, I can’t—” and so his first words into the phone no doubt sounded like an objection: “Ha, what, what?”
“Charlie, this is Diane Chang.”
Charlie saw his bedside clock’s red 4:30 A.M. and his heart pounded. “What is it?”
“I just got a call from the UDC Hospital. They told me that Frank Vanderwal was admitted to their ER about three hours ago with a head injury.”
“How bad is it? Is he all right?”
“Yes, but he has a concussion, and a broken nose, and he lost a lot of blood. Anyway, I’m going there now, I was just leaving for work anyway, but it’ll take me a while to get to the hospital, and I realized it’s near you and Anna and that you know Frank. You guys were the second number on his who-to-call form. So I thought you might be able to go over.”
“Sure,” Charlie said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Anna was sitting up beside him, saying “What, what is it?”
“Frank Vanderwal’s been injured. He’ll be all right, but he’s over at UDC Hospital. Diane thought—well here.” He handed her the phone and got up to dress. When he was ready to go Anna was still on the phone with Diane. Charlie kissed the top of her head and left.
He drove fast through the nearly empty streets. In the hospital ER receiving room the fluorescent lights hummed loudly. The nurses were matter-of-fact, pacing themselves for the long haul. They treated Charlie casually; people came in like this all the time. Finally one of them led him down the concrete-floored hallway to a curtained-off enclosure on the right.
There Frank lay, pale in his hospital whites, wired up and IVed. Two black eyes flanking a swollen red nose, and a bandage under his nose covered much of his upper lip.
“Hey Frank.”
“Hey, Charlie.” He did not look surprised to see him. Behind his black eyes he did not look like anything could surprise him.
“They said your nose is broken and you’ve been concussed.”
“Yes, I think that’s right.”
“What happened?”
“I tried to break up a fight.”
“Jesus. Where was this?”
“In Rock Creek Park.”
“Wow. You were out there tracking the zoo animals?”
Frank frowned.
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“No, I was out there. Yes. I’ve been out there a lot lately. They’ve been trying to recapture the ferals, and they don’t all have radio collars.”
“So you were out there at night?”
“Yeah. A lot of animals are out then.”
“I see. Wow. So what hit you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Well, let’s see . . . I saw a fight. I ran down to help. Some people I know were being attacked. Then something hit me.”
“Never mind,” Charlie said. Thinking seemed to pain Frank. “Don’t worry about it. Obviously you got hit by something.”
“Yes.”
“Does your face hurt bad? It looks terrible.”
“I can’t feel it at all. Can’t breathe through it. It bled for a long time. It’s still bleeding a little inside.”
“Wow.” Charlie pulled a chair over and sat by the bed.
After a while a different nurse came by and checked the monitor. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Strange. Am I concussed?”
“Yes, like I told you.”
“Anything else?”
“Broken nose. Maxillary bone, cracked in place. Some cuts and bruises. The doctor sewed you up a little inside your mouth—there, inside your upper lip, yes. When the anesthetic