Amanda's Eyes (7 page)

“Gotta be more than a couple weeks. 
And forget your parents’ place.”

“More than a couple weeks?  How much
more?”

“I don’t know.  It could be months
before we’re sure it’s safe for you to resurface.”

“
Months?  Are you out of your
mind?”

“Keep your voice down.  Unless you
want to read the night nurse in on this discussion.”

I throttled back the volume, pushing
the words through my teeth instead.  “I can’t disappear for months!  I have a
job to do!”

“Can’t do it if you’re dead.”

“And what’s wrong with my parents’
house?”

“It’s not safe.”

“Says who?  We’ve got
state-of-the-art security. 
And
Bart Dickson.”

“Okay, but are you sure you want to
drag your family into the middle of this?”

I sat up straighter.  “What are you
talking about?”

“What if the Ferrymen think they
have to go through them to get to you?”

“I
told
you, we have—”

“Oh, I get it.  The whole clan is
going to barricade themselves in the foothills until this is over.  Your
father, too?  Your brother, the DA?”

I was going to lose this one.  I
knew that now.  Have I mentioned how much I
hate
to lose?  Ever?  At
anything?

“You’re right.  Dad can’t just up
and disappear when the Assembly is in session.”  I sighed.  “Fine.  You’ve made
your point.”

“Meaning you’ll do this my way?”

“Meaning I’ll think about it.  I
assume you have a hiding place in mind?”

“Yeah, but I need to run it by
someone else before I make definite plans.”

“Uh-huh.  Well, let’s hope the
Ferrymen don’t decide to
finish the job
, as you so tactfully put it,
before you get your ducks in a row.”

“I’ll know tomorrow.  And the
Ferrymen can’t get to you here.  You’re protected twenty-four/seven.”

“Really?  By whom?”

“That’s need to know, and you—”

“—don’t want to hear that song and
dance.”

“All right, how about this?  We’ll
do our job, you do yours.  Get well.  Sound fair?”

“Huh.”

“Now I better get out of here before
the nurse makes her rounds.  Hang in there and don’t let anyone know you got
your memory back.  Not even your family.”

“No problem.”  I suddenly remembered
how tired he had sounded over the UL.  Reminded myself he was only trying to protect
me.  Felt like Kate the Shrew and didn’t like it.  I cleared my throat. 
“Thanks, Jack.  I appreciate your help.  Seriously.”

“You’re welcome.  Talk to you soon,
and good luck with the surgery.”

After he left, I lay back, hands
stacked behind my head, trying to decide if I was as fairly safe as he
claimed.  Maybe he was full of hot air.  Didn’t seem to be, but I had only
known him for what?  Two weeks?  Could I trust him?  My gut said yes, and I
hoped it was right as usual.  Because I was trusting him with my life.

“Ya couldn’a
paid
me to
undergo general anesthesia back then!”

“Really?”

“Heck, no!  Talk about
primitive
! 
Pumpin’ the patient full’a drugs that paralyzed the lungs and every other
darned thing? 
Geez
! 
That
kind’a medicine we can do without,
right?  Hey, am I right?”

“Huh?  Oh, yeah.”

Angie DiNapoli sounded way too young
to be a nurse anesthetist and far too perky for five-thirty in the morning.  A
real chatterbox.  Normally, I make it my mission in life to encourage flapping
gums wherever I find them.  I mean, you never know where your next story will
come from.  But today wasn’t normally.

“Did you know up until fifty years
ago surgeons operated with
knives
? 
Knives
, for cryin’ out loud!”

“Really?” 
God, I’m tired.  But
too wired to sleep without drugs, especially after talking to Eagan.  Hope he’s
right about being safe here.  Be a shame if the Ferrymen punched my ticket
before I get a chance to see again.

“No kiddin’.  ‘Course
lasers
were
in their infancy then, so it wasn’t
all
their fault.  I mean, it’s not
like they
knew
better.”

“Mm.” 
I can’t believe I let him
talk me into running.  God only knows where he plans to dump me.

Angie’s fingers grasped the catheter
for my IV.  “Okay, we’re ready to add the anesthetic to your drip.  Don’t
worry, you won’t feel a
thing
!

Up to that second, I had been too
preoccupied to pay much attention to her.  My contributions to the conversation
had been limited to a few absent-mined
Wows,
a sprinkling of
Reallys,
and one
Is that so?
  Not that she seemed to mind.  Or notice, for
that matter.  To tell you the truth, I’m not sure she even paused for breath. 
Angie obviously had her spiel down pat.  Talk fast and keep talking, because it
was the only way she could get her two cents in before her patients lost
consciousness.

As of this moment, however, she had
my complete attention.  I tensed slightly.  “So, this is it?  You’re putting me
to sleep now?”

“What am I, a
vet
? 
Geez!
 
Strays
get put to sleep, not
people!
  We render the patient
unconscious
. 
Sounds much nicer, right?  More professional.  But we won’t actually knock you
out until we get you on the table.”

My lips twitched in spite of the
circumstances. 
Putting me to sleep
offended her professional
sensibilities, but
knock you out
was okay?

“You remember how it works?”  Not
waiting for my yay or nay, she launched into the details.  “When we switch on
the nanochips, they’ll disrupt the electrical activity among key structures in
your brain, and
out
you’ll go.  When the surgery is done, we’ll send the
termination signal.  Not
your
termination, o’course! 
Geez
,
that’d be like a scene out of one of those science
fiction
movies, ya
know? 
Anesthesia
termination.  The chips’ll cut off, break down into
organic
components
, and exit your body through the
lymph
system.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Well, it’s actually much
more
technical
than that.”  She sounded slightly miffed but bounced right
back.  “I just wanted’a make sure you got the
drift
.  Best of all, there
are
no
nasty aftereffects.  You’ll wake up,” she snapped her fingers,
“like
that
.  Bright-eyed … uh, I mean, really
alert
.”

“Should I expect some pain?”

“What?  You think we
torture
people? 
Geez! 
The OR nurse’ll add targeted, time-release analgesics to
your IV.  You won’t hurt a
bit
, not even for a
minute
.”

“That’s good to know.”

“You bet!  Most patients say they
never felt better in their
lives
than they did when they woke up.”  Her
fingers released the catheter, and she patted my hand.  “You’re all set.  I
gotta pop up to get stuff ready in the OR.  I’ll let your nurse know I’m
done
here.  Cute guy.  Kind’a
intense
, though.  I like ‘em fun-loving, ya
know?  Well, been nice talking to you.  Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

Whoever said silence is golden
wasn’t wearing an elasticized paper bonnet and contemplating her first date
with a surgeon.  Angie’s departure left a vacuum my imagination was all too
ready to fill with lurid speculation involving eyeballs and blood and gloved
fingers poking into places angels fear to tread.  I needed a distraction in a
hurry.

Angie said my nurse was cute.  Also
intense.  Did she mean Dennis?  He doesn’t get in this early.  Is Dennis cute?

Okay, that held the willies at bay
for all of ten seconds.  Now what?  I went back over the morning so far and hit
replay on the conversation that had taken place in this room a scant half-hour
earlier.  My family had rolled in on a sunny tide of optimism, showering me
with hugs and kisses and words of encouragement.  The gathering was totally copacetic
until Mom made her big announcement.

“I have a surprise for you, Amanda.”

“Okay,” I said.  Cautiously, because
I was remembering her last surprise.

Mom has never given up on putting me
in touch with my more feminine side.  The last time she surprised me, I got
shanghaied for a makeover at the swankiest salon in New Frisco.  By the time I
caught on, it was too late to run, so I bit the bullet and sat in the chair. 
After six hours of torture at the inhuman hands of Mister Marc and his merciless
minions, Daphne and Fawn, I had three-inch nails and hair that looked like it
had been combed with a blender.  Memories of the facial peel could still make
me flinch.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Hm.” 
Probably not.

“A trip to France!  Just the two of
us!”

“
And
Mrs. Gregson’s security
detail,” Dickson added pointedly.  His tone brooked no argument, and he didn’t
get one.

“France?” I echoed.

“Paris, actually.  Think of it as a
recuperative vacation.  We’ll leave as soon as the doctor says you’re well
enough to travel.”

“Does this vacation involve
haute
couture
?” I asked suspiciously.  Not that it mattered.  I doubted France
would fly with Jack Eagan.  “Because I’m telling you right now, Mom, you’re not
shoehorning me into one of those dresses shaped like a lampshade.”

“Of course not,” she replied
disingenuously.  “I’ve given up on reforming you.”  Dad cleared his throat. 
“Well, I
have
,” Mom insisted, then sighed.  “All right, I promise.  We
won’t do anything you don’t want to do, Amanda.  Cross my heart.  But imagine
the fun we could have—strolling through the Louvre, lunching at that quaint
little café on the Rive Gauche, taking an evening cruise down the river.”

“Sounds great,” I admitted, adding
more wistfully than I would have liked, “I would love to go to Paris with you,
Mom.”

Except Eagan’s plan was going to
blow hers right out of the Seine.  In a moment of abject cowardice, I decided,
Let
him bust her champagne bubble
.  I didn’t have the heart.

“Then it’s settled!”

Blissfully ignorant of the
disappointment awaiting her, Mom continued to flesh out our itinerary.  The more
she talked, the worse I felt.  Which is why I was pitifully grateful when Angie
babbled in, and Dad herded the fam up to the waiting room outside the surgical
suite.

My musings were interrupted by a
familiar voice.  “Ready to try those new baby blues on for size?”

“Dennis!  What are you doing here? 
I thought you didn’t come in until seven.”

“You thought right, but we’ve got a
busy floor this morning—your surgery and two others.  The super asked me to
come in early to help out.”  He sighed theatrically.  “Gonna be a long day,
thanks to you.”

“Think of the overtime,” I
suggested.  “Besides, what’s a couple extra hours to a battle-hardened
ex-commando like you?”

“Maybe civilian life has made me
soft.”

“Yeah.  And maybe Lincoln is buried
in Grant’s Tomb.”

He walked over to the bed. 
“Seriously, A.J., how do you feel?  Excited?  Little nervous in the service?”

“Well, I want to see again.  But I
don’t know what creeps me out more—the thought of Ramirez removing my old eyes,
or the thought of Klein popping in new ones.”  I grimaced self-consciously. 
“Silly, huh?”

“Nah.  As common as they are, organ
transplants are still a big deal for the patient.  Quite a load to handle, psychologically. 
And the eyes?  Well, they carry their own mystical freight, don’t they? 
Windows to the soul, and all that.”

“So you don’t think I’m a wuss?”

“Not even.”

“Don’t look now, Nurse Baker, but
your sensitive side is showing.”

“God, I hope not.  I have my macho
image to consider.”

“Speaking of your macho image, you
do realize I’m a few short weeks away from finding out what you look like?”

“Well, hell, I’ll tell you that
now.  Short, fat, bald, and bowlegged.  Three good teeth, and a wart on the end
of my nose.  Now pipe down and let me check your vitals.”

What
do
you look like?
I wondered,
as his fingers found my wrist.

People almost never match the mental
pictures I paint of them before I meet them face to face, so chances were,
Dennis wasn’t the lean, dark soldier of fortune I had been imagining over the
past few weeks.  Had I even come close?

You know that old saying about not
missing the water ‘til the well runs dry?  Well, color me living proof of that! 
When I could see, the world just was.  Every now and then a sunset would stop
me in my tracks and take my breath away, but day to day the world served as my backdrop. 
I never appreciated the wonderful details.  Textures and colors.  The way the
sky looks in that deep-blue hour before dawn.  The flash and glint of sunlight
off thousands of windows in the Financial District.  The expectant blank wink
of the cursor against a white background waiting to be filled, or the chaotic
ballet performed by the reporters swarming the miasmic WNN newsroom
affectionately known as The Swamp.

In a way, I even overlooked the
faces I loved.  Until I couldn’t see them anymore.

Why are we so backwards when it
comes to sight?  Blind to what matters while we trust our eyes in all the wrong
ways.  We live as if idiotic clichés like
Seeing is believing
and
What
you see is what you get
make perfect sense.  Even though human history has
proven otherwise, again and again.  People see and refuse to believe all the
time.  How else can you explain smokers?  As for getting what you see, any
conman worth his salt can make swampland in Florida look like the real estate
steal of the century.  And let’s not even get into used car salesmen.

Obviously, it takes more than a
working pair of eyes to see clearly.  Not that a working pair of eyes is
anything to sneeze at.

Neither are the rest of our senses,
for that matter.  I mean, who knew hearing, taste, and smell had so much to add? 
Layers upon layers.  I hoped I wouldn’t lose that richness, that depth of
perception, when I could see again.

“What’s with the Mona Lisa smile?”
asked Dennis.

“I was exploring the pros and cons
of not being able to see.”

“There are pros?”

“Surprised me, too.  But besides
figuring out what’s worth looking at and what’s not, I’ve learned to pay
attention to my other senses.  I considered myself fairly perceptive before, but
this experience has taken my awareness to a whole new level.”

“You need a whole new level,” he
said seriously.  “From what Jack tells me, you’re not out of the woods yet. 
The only way you’re going to stay safe is to maintain complete situational
awareness twenty-four/seven.  Keep your antennae up, A.J.  Tune in with all you’ve
got.”

As sobering reminders went, that one
was a doozy.

I nodded slowly.  “I hadn’t thought
that far ahead, but you’re right.”

He laid a hand on my shoulder.  “And
remember, you’re not alone.  Iceman’s got you covered.”

“Iceman?”

“Eagan.  Iceman was his call sign in
the Teams, and it stuck.”

“Yeah?  Why Iceman?”

“Well, for one, the guy’s got ice
water in his veins.  Nothing, and I mean
nothing
rattles him.  There’s
another reason we called him Iceman, but you’ll figure that one out as soon as
you see him.”

“Wait.  You’re going to leave me
hanging for
three weeks
?  That’s low, Baker, really low.”

“No need to get testy.  I’m only
trying to give you something to look forward to.”