White Lies by Linda Howard Page B

awake!" she choked. "He
said that he hurts. Please, you have to give him something—"
                  They bolted past her, practically shoving her
to the side. Frank said, "This wasn't supposed to happen," in a voice
so hard she wasn't certain it was his. But it had to be, even though the words
didn't make any sense. What wasn't supposed to happen? Steve wasn't supposed to
wake up? Had they lied to her?
                  Had they expected him to die after all? No,
that couldn't be it, or Frank wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to get her
to stay.
                  Nurses were scurrying into Steve's room, but
when Jay tried to enter she was firmly escorted back into the hallway. She
stood outside, listening to the muted furor of voices inside, chewing on her
bottom lip and wiping the slowwelling tears from her cheeks. She should be in
there. Steve needed her. Inside the room, Frank watched as Major Lunning
swiftly checked Steve's vital signs and brain-wave activity. "No doubt
about it," the major confirmed absently as he worked. "He's coming
out of it."
                  "He's on barbiturates, for God's
sake!" Frank protested. "How can he come out of it until you lessen
the dosage?"
                  "He's fighting it off. He's got one hell
of a constitution, and that woman out there in the hall has a strong effect on
him. Adrenaline is a powerful stimulant. Enough of it, and people perform
superhuman feats of strength and endurance. His blood pressure is up and his
cardiac output has increased, all signs of adrenaline stimulation."
                  "Are you going to increase the
dosage?"
                  "No. The coma was to keep his brain from
swelling and causing more damage. I was almost ready to begin bringing him out
of it anyway. He's just moved up the timetable a little. We'll have to keep him
on drugs for the pain, but he won't be in a coma. He'll be able to wake
up."
                  "Jay thought he said that he hurt. Can he
feel pain, as drugged as he is?"
                  "If he was conscious enough to
communicate, he was conscious enough to feel pain."
                  "Can he understand what we're
saying?"
                  "It's possible. I'd say he definitely
hears us. Understanding is something else entirely."
                  "How long will it be before we can
question him?"
                  Major Lunning gave him a severe look.
"Not until the swelling in his face and throat subside enough for me to
remove the trach tube. I'd say another week. And don't expect him to be a fount
of information. He may never remember what happened to him, and even if he
eventually does, it could be months in the future."
                  "Is there any danger that he might reveal
some classified information to Jay?" Frank didn't want to say too much.
Major Lunning knew that Steve was a very important patient, but he didn't know
any of the details.
                  "It isn't likely. He'll be too dazed and
confused, maybe even delirious, and at any rate, he still isn't able to talk. I
promise you, you'll be the first to see him when we take the trach tube
out."
                  Frank stared at the still form on the bed; he
had been unconscious for so long, it was hard to accept that he could hear or
feel, that he had even made an attempt to communicate. But knowing what he knew
about the man, Frank realized he should have been prepared for something like this.
The man never gave up, never stopped fighting, even when the odds were so
strong against him that anyone else would have walked away, and because of that
he had survived in many instances when others wouldn't, just as he had this
time. Most people never saw past the easy grin to that enormous, fearsome
determination.
                  "What's the likelihood of permanent brain
damage?" he asked quietly,