The Fall of the Governor, Part 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

impression—is the pungent mélange of suffering, the coppery tang of blood, the black stench of infection and bile, and the ubiquitous scent of ammonia. But underneath it all, providing an odd counterpoint, is the smell of burnt coffee, an ancient percolator in the corner brewing a pot of bitter Maxwell House. This incongruous odor—a good reason for it, she will soon learn—mingles with other smells of the infirmary in a strangely disturbing way. Lilly takes a step closer to the gurney resting in the center of the room under the big light.
    â€œIs he—?” She can barely speak. She stares at the body lying in the blazing silver light. In its current state, highlighted in that harsh light, the body brings to mind world leaders lying in state, beloved dictators pickled in death and exhibited in glass sarcophagi for the viewing pleasure of endless queues of mourners. It takes several moments for Lilly to realize that the patient is still breathing—albeit shallow, feeble breathing—his lungs rising and falling slowly under the blanket pulled up to his nude, iodine-stained rib cage. His head lolls to one side on a yellowed pillow, his face almost completely obscured by blood-soaked bandages.
    â€œHello, Lilly-girl,” a voice says from just behind her right flank, a blur of movement in her peripheral vision that interrupts her stupor. She turns and sees Bob Stookey standing beside her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
    Now Lilly stands paralyzed by another inconsistency—adding to the surreal sights and smells and sounds in that horrible tile room—another weird detail, which also strikes her as incomprehensible. Standing before her with a towel draped over his shoulder, his bloodstained lab coat buttoned at the collar like that of a competent barber, Bob has completely transformed. He holds a Styrofoam cup of coffee, his hands as steady as cornerstones. His greasy black hair is now combed neatly back off his weathered face, his eyes alert and clear and lucid. He is the picture of sobriety. “Bob, wh—what happened? Who did this?”
    â€œFucking bitch with the sword,” Bruce Cooper’s voice pipes in. From the corner of the room, the big man rises off a folding chair and comes over to the gurney. The man shoots a glare at Gabe. “What the fuck, Gabe? I thought we were supposed to keep this under wraps!”
    â€œShe ain’t gonna tell anybody,” Gabe mumbles, finally putting the water down. “Right, Lilly?”
    Before Lilly can answer, Bruce throws a ballpoint pen at Gabe. The pen barely misses impaling itself in his eye, grazing off the top of his head. Bruce roars at him. “YOU STUPID FUCK!—WHOLE TOWN’S GONNA KNOW ABOUT IT NOW!!”
    Gabe makes a move toward Bruce when Lilly steps in between them. “STOP IT!” She shoves them back, away from the gurney. “CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”
    â€œTell him !” Gabe stands nose to nose with Bruce, fists clenched and working. Bob hovers over the patient, feeling the Governor’s pulse. In all the excitement, the man’s head has lolled slightly, but that’s about the only change. Gabe takes shallow breaths, glaring at Bruce. “ He’s the one gettin’ his panties in a bunch!”
    â€œShut up!” Lilly pushes each man aside, staying in between them. “This is not the time to lose your shit. We gotta keep our fucking wits about us—now more than ever.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I’ve been saying,” Bruce grumbles, meeting Gabe’s glare.
    â€œOkay, let’s take a deep breath. I’m not gonna tell anybody. Okay? Calm down.”
    She looks at both men, and Gabe looks down and says nothing. Bruce wipes his face, breathing hard, looking around the room as if the answer to their problems is hidden inside the walls.
    â€œWe gotta take this one step at a time.” She looks at