The Breakthrough by Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

turn itself back on. In this case, the impact rendered Haeley unable to respond. Fortunately we don’t have to worry about edema because of the damage to the posterior skull.”
    “English?”
    “Edema is the swelling, and because the back of her head is open for now, the additional fluid has somewhere to escape rather than compressing the brain against the skull. Of course, she lost a lot of blood, and we had to replenish that.”
    Boone nodded. “So, how long till you can get her out of her coma?”
    “Oh, we must not do that yet. In fact, the specialist gave her meds that will keep her in an induced coma that will allow us to treat every affected area. If she were to regain consciousness now, there’s no telling what damage the body might do in an attempt to heal itself.”
    “We don’t want the body to heal itself?”
    “Not yet. Sometimes the body will perform a sort of triage and shut off blood to damaged areas. We don’t want that. There will be swelling, and the more swelling, the deeper the coma, but because the injury has helped us with the extra fluid, she’s stable. And the best part about moving her from a trauma-induced coma to a medically induced one is that it is reversible when Sam decides it’s time.”
    “So you didn’t repair the fracture? It felt pretty bad.”
    “The skull will be reconstructed eventually, but for now it’s left more elastic for our purposes. She won’t be able to rest on the back of her head, and she won’t look her best for a while, but for now, she’s right where we want her to be.”
    “I can’t ask for more than that.”
    “And we have no idea how far back she can come functionally.”
    “If at all?”
    “Oh, I think she’ll return to the person you knew, but it could be a long, slow process, and she may never be 100 percent. On the other hand, some patients completely recover. But I am making no promises.”
    Florence quickly scrolled through her phone messages and found only the one from Margaret about her keeping Max a few more days. She wanted to call Margaret back and let her know she was more than happy to keep Max and also to find out what had happened to Haeley. But she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to know where Alfonso had taken Max, and she wanted to know right now.
    “Willie, you put on some sort of recordin’ for when you have to be away from the desk, don’t you?”
    “Yes, ma’am, but management doesn’t like me to use it much, and neither do I.”
    “Well, it’s time to turn it on. I got a job for ya and no time to argue about it.”
    “But, Miz—”
    “Willie, you know me! Now set it up and do what I tell ya. I wouldn’t ask lightly, and you said you’d do anything for me. This is an emergency.”
    He fiddled with the buttons on the phone at the desk while Florence worked herself out of the easy chair.
    “You ought not to be standin’, ma’am,” Willie said.
    “Jes’ come with me. We gon’ find my Max.”
    As Willie helped her outside, Florence felt much better. She didn’t know if it was the water and the rest and the evidence that she had indeed taken her meds that morning, or whether it was because her need to lay eyes on that boy made her forget her ailments. She got herself shuffling down the sidewalk to where Willie had to hustle to keep up.
    And there was Scooter again. “You got a couple for me like you said?”
    “I got ten for you by tomorrow if you help us.”
    “Ten? I’ll help you knock over a bank for that!”
    “I’m looking for Max, little white boy, blond hair. White tennies, blue shorts, red shirt. He’s with a Army Ranger in a camouflage outfit. Drives a big old dark-blue Buick with South Carolina tags on it. You go that way; Willie and me’ll go this way. You find ’em, Scooter, and we’re talkin’ twenty.”
    “Twenty! I’m on it!”
    “What you’re telling me,” Boone said, “is that when I do get to see her, she won’t even know I’m there.”
    “Not