The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(20)

“I got it,” she says, putting one of her hands on mine and reaching into my pocket with her other hand.

Usually, I would have dirty thoughts in a situation like this—having Mira dig through my jeans this way—but I guess getting shot takes its toll. I feel like I might actually puke if the ambulance keeps on shaking the way it does, and I want Mira as far away from me as possible if that happens.

I take a few deep breaths and decide that maybe I woke up too soon. I think I need to rest for a few more minutes.

“What hospital are we going to?” Mira asks the paramedic as my thoughts grow progressively cloudier.

“Coney Island,” I hear him respond as though in a dream, and then my mind goes blank again.



*



I wake up again. This time I know that I’m not in my own bed. I remember being shot. I also remember feeling sick in the ambulance, and I’m relieved that I’m feeling somewhat better. I even recall talking to someone. The reason for my feeling better is on the tip of my tongue, but it escapes me.

“When is the doctor going to see him again?” It’s Mira’s voice. “All he did was give him something for the pain.”

Ah, that explains it. I recall telling someone I was in terrible pain. Or did I say something else? It’s still a bit blurry, and the weightless feeling running through my body is not conducive to recall.

There’s a trick I learned at the dentist’s office. When a dentist asks me if I feel something during a procedure, I say that I do until I can’t feel my face from all the Novocain. I must’ve automatically used this same technique when I spoke to the doctor in my woozy state, and he must’ve believed me and given me something pretty strong for the pain.

“The doctor will see him again after he gets the X-ray,” says a different female voice. A nurse, I’m guessing.

“Okay, then when is he going for that X-ray?” Mira’s voice rises. “Why is this taking so long?”

“Please calm down, miss. We’re doing the best we can,” says the nurse in a rehearsed monotone. “We have a lot of patients today and are very understaffed.”

They have a back and forth, but I ignore it. Instead, I try to examine this feeling I’m experiencing from whatever is making me feel better. It’s like a warm flow through my whole body. Like I’m hovering and floating in a warm bath at the same time.

Whatever they gave me for the pain must be really beginning to kick in.

“That bullet was meant for me,” Eugene says after the person Mira was bugging about my care is gone.

“Yes. I hate to say it, but I told you so.” Mira sounds angry. “When will you develop a sense of self-preservation?”

“You’re right, of course,” Eugene says morosely. “We should’ve slept at a hotel. I didn’t think they would come after me again. Not this soon. I didn’t even think the ones involved in your kidnapping bothered to share our address with anyone else—”

“Oh, spare me all the bullshit.” Mira’s tone is scathing. “I heard it yesterday, and now Darren is hurt because I listened to you. You just wanted to be near your precious equipment, as usual. That’s all you think about.”

With the nice feelings spreading though my body, I have a hard time following the conversation. But one thing I do get from it: Mira seems to care about me. At least she’s upset that Eugene’s lack of regard for her earlier concerns resulted in my injury. As I think this, the feelings of warmth in my body intensify. What drug did they give me? Maybe I should get a prescription.

“I really am sorry, Mirochka.” Eugene sounds genuinely remorseful. “In the future, I will do what you say when it comes to paranoia.”

She gets pissy about the word paranoia, and they argue some more, with occasional lapses into Russian. I feel myself slowly floating down from whatever cloud the pain medication had taken me to. Their sibling squabble is totally ruining my buzz.

“I can’t believe Darren took the bullet for me,” Eugene says at some point, and the comment catches my attention.

Truthfully, I can’t believe it either. Well, strictly speaking, that was not my intent. I’d hoped to save everyone. But still. His remark makes me feel good, though some of that might still be the drug.

“He did,” Mira responds thoughtfully.

They sit in silence for a bit, and I feel the buzz coming back, intensified. As it gets a hold on my body again, I feel decidedly drowsy and don’t fight it. My consciousness flees, and I find myself going for a nice nap.





Chapter 10


“Are you Bert?” I hear Mira’s voice again as I wake up.

“Yes,” Bert responds. “Thank you for calling me, Mira. Nice to meet you. How did Darren get hurt?”

I open my eyes.

“He—”

“Wait, I think he just opened his eyes,” Bert cuts off Mira’s explanation.

“Darren,” she says, looking at me worriedly. “How are you feeling?”

I examine myself.

I’m hooked up to a monitor and have an IV in my arm, but the effects of the drug they gave me must’ve worn off. My head is throbbing again. But it doesn’t seem to be as bad as before, which could be remnants of the medication, or a result of healing. I’m not sure which it is. The whole thing still feels a lot like a hangover, but at least the nausea has lessened, and having my eyes open doesn’t make me feel like I have icepicks piercing my temples.