Vengeance: A Derek Stillwater Novel (Derek Stillwater Thrillers Book 8) by Mark Terry

turned and walked out. The nurse said, “Not a friend of yours?”
    “No. Drug me up. I need a nap.”
    “Will do.”

    Derek slept for a couple days. As surgery went, it was relatively minor. The surgeon expressed concern about possible nerve damage to the shoulder. “Only time will tell. There was a lot of damage and it didn’t help matters that you didn’t get proper treatment for several days.”
    Glowering at him, Derek said, “That’s just fucking great.”
    The surgeon was a tall, solidly built African-American. He wore green surgical scrubs and looked like he ate children for breakfast, even though he’d been nothing but calm and professional with Derek. He studied Derek for a moment, and gestured to the chair next to the bed. “Mind if I sit down?”
    If Derek could shrug, he would have, but his shoulder was bound and bandaged and even small movements caused pain to shoot through shoulder. His head still hurt from the skull fracture, and occasionally, even though he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, his vision would double for a while before going back to normal. This double vision was usually accompanied by an intense wave of nausea and vertigo.
    “Fine.”
    The doc sat. “Name’s Steve Everline. I’m pretty sure I introduced myself earlier, but maybe not.”
    Derek just stared at him.
    Dr. Everline scratched at his jaw with one hand. “I don’t know what happened to you and Hammond over there in Syria. And I understand it’s classified. But I’m getting reports that you’re being difficult and uncooperative.”
    “What’s your point?”
    The surgeon sighed. “The point is I suspect something happened to you more than getting shot a couple times, which is bad enough. Or you saw some bad shit. What I’m saying, Dr. Stillwater, is if you need to talk to someone, we’ve got counselors and psychologists on staff.”
    “You through?”
    “I am.” He stood up and held out a hand. Slowly, Derek took it. “I’ll be back to check on you later today. Meanwhile, get some rest.”

    A day later he was released from medical care and given temporary quarters. He found Hammond in the hospital, wired up, patched up, and awake.
    “Hey,” Hammond said.
    Sitting at the bedside, Derek said, “How do you feel?”
    “Like morphine is one of my favorite things.”
    “When do they say you’ll get out of here?”
    Hammond flicked a hand in lieu of a shrug. “They had to re-do the dead doc’s work, cut out a chunk of intestine. I’m on heavy-duty antibiotics. Collapsed lung, broken ribs, torn up scapula … Hey, it was a party. It’ll be a while. You heading stateside?”
    “I’ve got reports to write, then I’m going to Russia for a while.”
    “To see your kid.”
    Derek nodded. “You going to be fully functional?”
    “You going somewhere with that?”
    “Are you going to be able to go back into operations?”
    “Only time will tell, but yeah, I think so.”
    “Want to?”
    He didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “Hell yeah.”
    They sat there in companionable silence. Derek thought maybe Hammond dozed off, but he said, “On the drive back, I was out of it most of the time. But I did come to for a while. The car was on the side of the road and you were gone.”
    Derek remembered. He’d pulled off to take a piss. He’d also wanted to check the stars and see if he could get his bearings. Walking a dozen feet from the car, he’d emptied his bladder, grown dizzy, and collapsed to the ground. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he came to he staggered to his feet and walked off, confused in the dark, losing the car and the road.
    “Yeah,” he said. “Bad moment there.”
    “The nurse told me you were in pretty bad shape. Concussion, skull fracture, shot up shoulder. But you made it all the way here. Saved my life.”
    “In the job description.”
    Hammond nodded and held out his fist. Derek bumped it with his own.
    “For the record, Stillwater. I’d work with you again