“You too,” Sidney said.
Janet Station walked out of the café and to the waiting SUV. She climbed in the backseat and the Denali took off from the curb. She dialed her cell.
“Hello?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
CHAPTER 30
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
“HERE’S THE GOAL,”JASON SAID. “I’M GONNA LIFT YOUR ASS OUTof that wheelchair, and you’re gonna use the rails to move said ass all the way to the other end. And you’re going to put pressure on the goddamn prosthesis. Do you hear me? You’ve got to start putting weight on that side of your body.”
“I could file a complaint about the way you speak to me,” Gus said.
“Do it. And make sure you hand deliver it to Nurse Ratched.”
Gus cocked his head. “No thanks. I learned long ago, when I was still working, that if someone’s got you by the balls, you shouldn’t wiggle.”
Jason smiled. “Good decision. No more stalling.” He reached around Gus’s waist and grabbed the belt harness. Gus put his hands on Jason’s shoulders, and in a coordinated fashion, Jason pulled and Gus engaged the weakened muscles on his good leg, trying hard not to put too much pressure on his gimp right hip or the strange prosthetic device that connected his stump to the floor.
Gus groaned as he made it to his feet. “Son of a bitch.”
“You okay?”
A quick nod and another grunt with gritted teeth. “It feels weird.”
“But good to stand up, right?”
Gus was breathing heavily. “Yeah. But it also hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“Grab the railings,” Jason said.
Gus did so, gripping his hands around two parallel bars that ran out ahead of him and ended after ten feet. It could have been a football field. The rails would allow him to transfer as much of his body weight into his arms and shoulders as possible while he tried to walk for the first time since losing his leg. The rest of his weight would go onto his good leg; and when he felt brave enough, he was supposed to swing his gimp right leg and prosthetic forward and see what he could handle. The last time Jason got him onto the bars, Gus had given up without putting any weight onto his surgically altered leg.
“This far after surgery, you should be able to make it ten paces on the bars.”
“Haven’t made it one yet,” Gus said, out of breath.
“That’s ’cause you quit last time.”
“It hurts, you little shithead, that’s why I quit. And it feels weird to step on that goddamn peg leg.”
“You want to walk again, or get wheeled around for the rest of your life?”
“Walk.”
“Then get going. And scream all you want, it wakes this place up and makes people scared of me. I like it.”
Gus looked to the end of the bars. His weakened arms shook under the weight of his body.
“Jesus Christ. I used to be able to do thirty dips without a pause. Now I can barely keep myself upright.”
“Because you’ve been sitting on your ass for a month. Now move, Gus!”
He took a deep breath, lifted his gimp leg in front of him, and released a guttural groan as he took his first step in several weeks.
* * *
