Read Online Glimpse by Steve Whibley - Free Book Online Page B

you, isn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s him, ma’am,” Colin said. “Our local hero.”
    â€œThat was just the bravest thing I had ever heard of, young man.” She leaned over the counter. “Is it true you fought them off all by yourself?”
    â€œHe did, ma’am,” Colin said, slapping my back. “Dean’s the bravest kid I know. He took on a group of murderous thieves just to help his fellow man. Can you imagine the courage?”
    I rolled my eyes. “It really wasn’t like—”
    â€œThat’s the other reason we’re here,” Lisa said, squaring her shoulders. “We’d really like to see the man Dean saved. You know, just to make sure he’s okay.”
    The nurse’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Mr. Vidmar is down the hall. But I’m sorry to say that it doesn’t look good. He’s in really rough shape.”
    Vidmar , I thought. The name sounded foreign. “Is his family here?”
    She shook her head. “He has a brother. The admitting doctor spoke to him when we finally tracked him down. I know he’s on his way, but he might not get here until tomorrow.
    â€œDo you think we could see him anyway?” Lisa prodded. “We came a very long way.”
    The nurse smiled. “I don’t see the harm, but you’ll need to make it quick. The doctors will be making their rounds soon. Besides, some visitors might do the poor man some good.” She gestured down the hall. “He’s in Room 245, but he might not be awake.”
    â€œWe’ll just look in on him then,” Lisa said. “Thank you.”
    Room 245 was at the end of the curved hallway, and outside his room was a metal trolley covered in binders. “VIDMAR” was written on one of the binder spines, and all three of us stopped when we saw it.
    â€œYou think it will say if he’s going to make it?” Colin asked.
    â€œYou can’t read that,” Lisa said. “It’s private.”
    â€œPlease. Don’t you think there might be something useful in there?” Colin reached over and pulled the binder from the stack and opened it up. Lisa and I leaned over Colin’s 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: “ Brother reports several suicide attempts, the latest being January 2008—patient jumped from a bridge. ”
    â€œThat’s enough,” Lisa said, reaching out and closing the binder. “We shouldn’t read that stuff. It’s not right. Let’s just talk to him.”
    All of us were shocked by the things we had read. The chart was nearly an inch thick. We hadn’t really expected the man I saved to be—I searched for the word—unstable. Now the fact that Mr. Vidmar was still even alive defied logic. “You’re right, Lisa. Let’s go.”
    The three of us entered the room and stopped by the door. “Rough” didn’t 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.
    â€œStopwatches,” she said.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œThis