“Be fuckin’ careful!” Roger snapped.
“I’ve got this! Fuck!” Jules heaved the stretcher back up with one arm, giving Mickey the chance to pull the handle and kick the wheels back into place.
“What a piece of shit!” Mickey griped.
“Jesus Christ,” Roger groaned as he frantically petted Crybaby’s hair. “Shit, is she okay?”
“Come on,” Jules urged. “Let’s get her inside.”
“Don’t drop her again!”
Jules took one end of the stretcher and Mickey the other, and they wheeled her through the patio doors.
The doors led into a dusty parlor with a hospital bed and various medical equipment. Pym was adjusting one of the machines with Doc Brown, a dumpy frog of a man, supervising.
“Hey there,” Brown said, turning to greet them all. “Is this the patient?”
“No, this is just some lady we kidnapped,” Jules retorted dryly. “Yes, this is the fuckin’ patient.”
“Watch your mouth, smartass,” Brown warned. “I’ll remember that the next time I gotta stitch you up.”
Mickey and Jules slid the stretcher over beside the bed, and Mickey unbuckled the straps as Jules walked around to the other side. In one smooth motion, Jules pulled Crybaby onto the bed.
“Here, here. Let me see.” Brown brushed Jules out of the way and began to hook up tubing to her IV’s. He tugged the sheets up over her lap and lifted up her hospital gown.
There was a large bandage on Crybaby’s stomach and another up under her ribs. Mickey turned his head respectfully, just in case, and he asked, “Everything okay, doc?”
“She’s fine. Surgeons did a good job stitching her up.”
“When is she gonna wake up?” Roger sounded worried.
Mickey stepped over beside him and found himself resting a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn’t like seeing Roger upset, and it was doing something to his chest.
“Hard to say.” Brown’s fuzzy brows furrowed up. “She lost a lot of blood, but she’s breathing on her own. She may wake up in a few days, she may not. It’s gonna take weeks for her to fully recover.”
“But she will recover, right?” Roger’s tone made the question sound like a threat.
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Brown complained, gesturing at Roger in annoyance.
“I’m the fuckin’ guy who is gonna break your face and shit down your fuckin’ throat if you don’t fuckin’—”
“Roger!” Mickey snapped.
“You’d better fuckin’ save her, I swear to fuckin’ God!” Roger growled and suddenly lunged across the hospital bed, trying to grab Brown.
“The fuck!” Jules shouted, pushing Brown out of Roger’s reach. “Roger! The fuck are you doing?”
“Easy, easy!” Mickey snatched Roger back and dragged him away, urging him into the next room. “Come on, Doc is on our side, okay?”
“How do we know, huh?” Roger tried to push Mickey off. “How do we know he’s gonna take care of her?”
“We gotta trust him,” Mickey soothed. He refused to let go, and he pressed Roger up against the wall. “He’s good, okay? I fuckin’ swear.”
“And if she fuckin’ dies?” Roger demanded, panting hard as he continued to struggle.
“Then you can kill him.”
“Yeah?” Roger’s face suddenly lit up.
