you, isnât it?â
âThatâs him, maâam,â Colin said. âOur local hero.â
âThat was just the bravest thing I had ever heard of, young man.â She leaned over the counter. âIs it true you fought them off all by yourself?â
âHe did, maâam,â Colin said, slapping my back. âDeanâs the bravest kid I know. He took on a group of murderous thieves just to help his fellow man. Can you imagine the courage?â
I rolled my eyes. âIt really wasnât likeââ
âThatâs the other reason weâre here,â Lisa said, squaring her shoulders. âWeâd really like to see the man Dean saved. You know, just to make sure heâs okay.â
The nurseâs lips thinned into a grim line. âMr. Vidmar is down the hall. But Iâm sorry to say that it doesnât look good. Heâs in really rough shape.â
Vidmar , I thought. The name sounded foreign. âIs his family here?â
She shook her head. âHe has a brother. The admitting doctor spoke to him when we finally tracked him down. I know heâs on his way, but he might not get here until tomorrow.
âDo you think we could see him anyway?â Lisa prodded. âWe came a very long way.â
The nurse smiled. âI donât see the harm, but youâll need to make it quick. The doctors will be making their rounds soon. Besides, some visitors might do the poor man some good.â She gestured down the hall. âHeâs in Room 245, but he might not be awake.â
âWeâll just look in on him then,â Lisa said. âThank you.â
Room 245 was at the end of the curved hallway, and outside his room was a metal trolley covered in binders. âVIDMARâ was written on one of the binder spines, and all three of us stopped when we saw it.
âYou think it will say if heâs going to make it?â Colin asked.
âYou canât read that,â Lisa said. âItâs private.â
âPlease. Donât you think there might be something useful in there?â Colin reached over and pulled the binder from the stack and opened it up. Lisa and I leaned over Colinâs shoulder and glanced down at the page.
Notes scrawled in black ink covered the whole page. There were also a series of dates with notations beside them. Some of the writing was hard to read, but several key words jumped out. Electrocution, multiple beatings/muggings, mentally unstable, delusional, committed to psychiatric facility . I scanned over the rest of the page and stopped at a note at the bottom: â Brother reports several suicide attempts, the latest being January 2008âpatient jumped from a bridge. â
âThatâs enough,â Lisa said, reaching out and closing the binder. âWe shouldnât read that stuff. Itâs not right. Letâs just talk to him.â
All of us were shocked by the things we had read. The chart was nearly an inch thick. We hadnât really expected the man I saved to beâI searched for the wordâunstable. Now the fact that Mr. Vidmar was still even alive defied logic. âYouâre right, Lisa. Letâs go.â
The three of us entered the room and stopped by the door. âRoughâ didnât begin to describe the shape of the man. Purple, orange, and brown bruises, along with at least a dozen lacerations, covered his face. Dark hair poked out from below a white gauze that formed a thick band around his head, and his arms, from wrists to armpits, were set in white casts. Machines running wires to his chest beeped and hummed out various rhythms that let us know he was at least alive. I guessed that he was in his mid to early thirties, though with all the bandages, it was difficult to tell.
Lisa peeked in a small backpack next to his bed. I recognized it from the alley.
âStopwatches,â she said.
âWhat?â I asked.
âThis
Salman Rushdie
Ed Lynskey
Anthony Litton
Herman Cain
Bernhard Schlink
Calista Fox
RJ Astruc
Neil Pasricha
Frankie Robertson
Kathryn Caskie