Saturday, November 2, 1985

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1985

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a hospital bed. A nurse I didn’t recognize cheerfully read me a list of injuries I’d racked up, including a nice set of third-degree burns on both legs as it happens, and added in a ‘You’re lucky to be alive’ for good measure.

“James?” I barked, and winced. Smoke inhalation. “What about James?”

“The young man you saved?” she said. “He’s stabilized, but I’m afraid he’s in a coma.”

“I need to see him!”

“You need to rest,” she said. “The doctor is doing everything he can. He’s in good hands.”

“Skoger,” I remembered. “I need the chief. Get me a phone! I need to—”

“We were asked to phone the station as soon as you woke up,” she said. “I had one of the other nurses do that while we’ve been talking. I’m sure they’ll send someone over to check up on you, but they also told us to tell you that ‘all suspects are in custody’. Does that sound right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, it does.”

The nurse left and told me to get some sle