The Third Option - Part 1
My new novel titled "The Third Option" is in the editing stage and I expect it to be released in May, 2018. Over the next few weeks, I'm planning to post portions of the book to wet your appetite. Here's part one:
When David Shaw opened his eyes, it took a few seconds for him to focus. The fluorescent light above his head buzzed like a drowning bumble bee and the light from it seemed to pulse in pain. Pain, that’s what he felt. He looked down at his right leg and saw it was heavily bandaged. It throbbed in time with the light pulses. His chest and arms were covered in bruises and abrasions. Where am I?
A quick look at his left arm gave him the answer. An IV needle was stuck into the back of his hand and the tubing from it stretched up to a bottle hanging from a stainless steel pole. The bottle was empty.
“Nurse, nurse,” he yelled.
He got no response. He looked for a button to push to call for help, but didn’t see one.
There was a window on the far side of the room and he could see the dim outline of trees outside. It was either just before sunrise or just after sunset – he didn’t know which.
“Nurse,” he yelled again.
The room he was in was large, large enough to hold a couple of hospital beds, but his was the only one in the room. The walls were a dull bluish-grey and looked like they hadn’t been painted or washed in decades. What kind of hospital is this?
He yelled again for a nurse, but didn’t bother to wait for a reply this time. He rolled onto his left side and sat on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up from the bed and slowly put some weight on his right leg. It held. It wasn’t broken, but the searing pain told him there was some severe damage underneath all those bandages.
When he tried to take his first step, he suddenly felt woozy and held onto the stainless steel IV pole for balance. Fortunately, the pole had wheels because it would have to come along as he made his journey to find a nurse. He felt like an eighty year old man with a walker rather than the twenty-one year old athlete that he was. He slowly shuffled his way toward the door of his room. When he opened it, he was surprised to see the corridor was almost in complete darkness. Where the hell is everybody?
He looked left and saw nothing but a dark hallway. He looked right and saw the same thing, but he could make out a dimly-lit red exit sign above the door at the end of the hallway. He shuffled toward it.
As he made his way down the corridor, he passed an abandoned nurse’s station. When he reached the end of the hallway, he peered out through the glass doors. It was a stairwell. He didn’t think he could handle going down stairs in his current condition so he turned around and headed back the other way. He had only taken a dozen steps when he heard the door open behind him. He quickly turned.
“You’re finally awake,” the girl said.
He knew the voice, but she looked different. “Bronx! Is that you? Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You’re in the hospital. You were injured in the explosion.”
He noticed she was carrying a brown paper bag. When the aroma reached his nose, he realized the bag contained food.
He watched as Bronx reached inside the bag and pulled something out. It wasn’t food. It was a gun, and it was pointed directly at him.
When David Shaw opened his eyes, it took a few seconds for him to focus. The fluorescent light above his head buzzed like a drowning bumble bee and the light from it seemed to pulse in pain. Pain, that’s what he felt. He looked down at his right leg and saw it was heavily bandaged. It throbbed in time with the light pulses. His chest and arms were covered in bruises and abrasions. Where am I?
A quick look at his left arm gave him the answer. An IV needle was stuck into the back of his hand and the tubing from it stretched up to a bottle hanging from a stainless steel pole. The bottle was empty.
“Nurse, nurse,” he yelled.
He got no response. He looked for a button to push to call for help, but didn’t see one.
There was a window on the far side of the room and he could see the dim outline of trees outside. It was either just before sunrise or just after sunset – he didn’t know which.
“Nurse,” he yelled again.
The room he was in was large, large enough to hold a couple of hospital beds, but his was the only one in the room. The walls were a dull bluish-grey and looked like they hadn’t been painted or washed in decades. What kind of hospital is this?
He yelled again for a nurse, but didn’t bother to wait for a reply this time. He rolled onto his left side and sat on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up from the bed and slowly put some weight on his right leg. It held. It wasn’t broken, but the searing pain told him there was some severe damage underneath all those bandages.
When he tried to take his first step, he suddenly felt woozy and held onto the stainless steel IV pole for balance. Fortunately, the pole had wheels because it would have to come along as he made his journey to find a nurse. He felt like an eighty year old man with a walker rather than the twenty-one year old athlete that he was. He slowly shuffled his way toward the door of his room. When he opened it, he was surprised to see the corridor was almost in complete darkness. Where the hell is everybody?
He looked left and saw nothing but a dark hallway. He looked right and saw the same thing, but he could make out a dimly-lit red exit sign above the door at the end of the hallway. He shuffled toward it.
As he made his way down the corridor, he passed an abandoned nurse’s station. When he reached the end of the hallway, he peered out through the glass doors. It was a stairwell. He didn’t think he could handle going down stairs in his current condition so he turned around and headed back the other way. He had only taken a dozen steps when he heard the door open behind him. He quickly turned.
“You’re finally awake,” the girl said.
He knew the voice, but she looked different. “Bronx! Is that you? Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You’re in the hospital. You were injured in the explosion.”
He noticed she was carrying a brown paper bag. When the aroma reached his nose, he realized the bag contained food.
He watched as Bronx reached inside the bag and pulled something out. It wasn’t food. It was a gun, and it was pointed directly at him.
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