"I hope your boss throws the book at that jackboot," the orderly stated. "I do mixed marital arts. You don't attack a man who's surrendered peacefully."
"What's your name?" Stafford asked him.
"Augie, ma'am." He was huge. In his mid-twenties, he'd be a formidable opponent. Since he seemed to regard Anton as his to protect, Eilene stayed very low key.
"You know I can't comment, Augie."
"I understand. Had to stick up for my pal, Don."
"Have you been friends long?"
"Just met. He loaned me a smoke on my break."
Eilene smiled. Bonding over cigarettes was not a new thing. Although she wasn't a smoker, she often carried them to share with her smoking colleagues, or the occasional nervous witness.
They arrived at radiology, and Anton was wheeled back. Augie came to sit with Eilene.
"Not allowed to stay without a badge."
Eilene understood that, but didn't like her detainee being out of sight. Augie seemed to sense that.
"Don't worry about Don. He's so loaded up with shit, he can barely find his own dick in a high wind."
Eilene laughed loudly, clamping her hand over her mouth. It wasn't how she'd have said it, but it was an accurate assessment.
The technician brought Anton back to the waiting room. He didn't look well. He held a dishpan on his lap and had a couple paper towels in his hand.
"I recommended a head CT to Dr. Smithers. He started vomiting halfway through. She said to wait until the tech is ready. Should be no more than ten minutes."
"Thanks," Eilene and Augie chorused.
"I need to let my boss know." She picked up her radio.
"That may not work here," the tech explained. "Lead shielding. Use the desk phone."
"Thanks." After a short update to Canon, she sat back down. "Don, you okay? Donald?"
His eyes were closed, the left one, on his damaged cheek, was swollen shut. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. The woman at the desk heard her and came out.
"Anaphylaxis," she told Augie.
He hit a button on the wall and the room filled with people.
"What pain med did he get?" a doctor asked.
"Morphine," Augie replied, keeping well away, beside Eilene.
"Don, can you hear me?" the doctor said loudly.
Anton tried to speak. He groaned.
"Are you allergic to morphine?" He worked quickly, giving Anton a shot.
Anton grunted. It could have meant anything.
"He told me he's never been in the hospital," Augie offered. "He may not know."
"Hell of a way to find out," the doctor said.
The epinephrine soon took effect, easing Anton's breathing.
"He's mine overnight," the doctor said to Sgt. Stafford.
"Not arguing, Doctor. Is he okay?"
"Yes, but we need to keep an eye on him. Some of the nausea may be the injury, some from the drug. Don, do you have a primary care doctor?"
"Don't get sick."
"You lucky bastard. Never?"
"Had a cold once, when I was ten."
"If everyone was as healthy as you, I'd be out of a job."
Anton tried to laugh, but it hurt.
"Healthy or not, you're deathly allergic to morphine. You ought to wear a bracelet or necklace."
"Some people get a tattoo," Augie said.
"No tats," Anton objected, pushing at them.
"No one is going to do that," Eilene assured him. "It's okay. Will you be taking him to the lock down?"
"He's not violent, and the shape he's in, he's not going anywhere."
"CV," Anton grabbed the doctor's sleeve. "Does CV know?"
"His friend," Augie supplied. "He had surgery. Don was waiting to see him, when shit went south." He flashed an unkind look at Eilene.
"It could have gone better," she admitted that, no more.
"Can't pay," Anton groaned. "No insurance."
"This one is on the City," Eilene Stafford replied. "If I can, I'll make that asshole, Oats, pay personally."
Anton couldn't reply. He lay on the floor, limp and listless.
"Let's get him that CT," the doctor said. "I can't attribute all this lassitude to the med."
They lifted Anton onto a gurney. The doctor and technician took him back.
"You think he's all right?" Eilene asked.
"I sure hope so. I don't know what he's supposed to have done, but he's good people," Augie replied.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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