The Lazarus Trap Read Online Free Page B

remember anything.”
    â€œA lot of people would pay money to trade places with you.” The examination rooms were curtained alcoves in a long, open chamber. The floor was faded linoleum. The air was stained with the odor of a strong disinfectant. From behind other curtains came soft voices. Somewhere a woman moaned.
    â€œHave a seat on the chair there.” The doctor swept the curtain around the ceiling corner and enclosed them in an off-white realm. “I don’t suppose it would be proper to ask if this has happened before.”
    He liked that enough to smile, the first in a very bleak day. “Cute.”
    â€œI was always a sucker for puns.” She slipped on gloves. “Can I have a look at your head?” Her touch was as soft as her voice.
    â€œI wish I knew what happened,” he said.
    â€œI imagine you do.” She unscrewed a bottle and dabbed a cloth. “This may sting a little.”
    In the distance a baby wailed. The doctor paid it no mind. She had an unshakable calm similar to the cops’, but with a compassion that showed in her eyes as he related what the cops had told him. He asked, “Does that sound like any drug you know?”
    â€œWhat I know, Mr. Adams, is that you have suffered multiple traumas to your system. Just a cursory examination of your head shows another spot where you have been struck hard. How old are you?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œI’d put your age at thirty, maybe thirty-one. Young enough to heal fast.” She taped a bandage over his temple, then touched a place at the back of his skull. “Does this hurt?”
    â€œOw. Yes.”
    â€œIt’s going to hurt even more, because I want to clean off this clotted blood. No, don’t touch. Hold still, please.” She had to tug to dislodge the blood from his hair. “You really should have a scan. But we don’t have the equipment here.” She probed the base of his skull, then began the same twisting, turning routine Reuben had. “Do you feel disoriented? Dizzy? Nauseous?”
    â€œNo. I was put through the same routine earlier.”
    â€œThe cops let you see a doctor? Why didn’t they clean you up?”
    â€œAn ER nurse was in the lockup with me. He did the finger thing and the head twist and said I didn’t appear concussed.”
    She came around to reveal another quick smile. “Did he charge?”
    â€œHe should have.” He looked down at his feet. “He saved my shoes. And maybe my life.”
    â€œWhat was he in for?”
    â€œHe says he got drunk.”
    â€œIf we canned everybody in this place who fell off the wagon, you’d see tumbleweeds blowing down the center aisle. Have him stop by when he gets out. We’re always on the lookout for good nurses.” She shone a light into his eyes. “Follow the light. Good. Okay, how many fingers?”
    â€œThree.”
    â€œClose your eyes and bring your left forefinger up and touch your nose. Now do the same with your other hand. Good. Well, I agree with your nurse’s opinion. But I’d still like you to stop by the hospital and have a scan. As for the drug they slipped you, there are several options.” She began making notes on a metal-backed clipboard. “My guess is GBH. That’s the street name, which stands for Grievous Bodily Harm. It’s a tablet derived from an anesthetic known as GHB. The user remains vaguely conscious, but loses muscle control. Behavior can often become extremely erratic, sometimes illogically violent. Which mirrors what the cops said.”
    â€œBut I don’t—”
    â€œRemember. Right. Not a total surprise. I assume you were drinking alcohol?”
    â€œThe cops said I was tanked.”
    â€œHad you done any other drugs?”
    â€œI don’t . . .”
    â€œThe bar where you say this all took place has quite a reputation. You went there for some reason. There are a lot of