tc.patriotgames-第3节

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he　rifle's　angle　changed　fractionally　as　the　soldier　relaxed　ever　so　slightly。　Ryan　saw　more　cops　running　to　the　scene；　and　a　white　car　with　its　siren　screaming。　The　situation；　whatever　it　was；　was　ing　under　control。
　　　　〃You　lunatic。〃　Cathy　surveyed　the　wound　dispassionately。　There　was　a　dark　stain　on　the　shoulder　of　Ryan's　new　suit　jacket　that　turned　the　gray　wool　to　purple…crimson。　His　whole　body　was　shaking　now。　He　could　barely　stand　and　the　weight　of　Sally　hanging　on　his　leg　was　forcing　him　to　weave。　Cathy　grabbed　his　right　arm　and　eased　him　down　to　the　pavement；　sitting　him　back　against　the　side　of　the　car。　She　moved　his　coat　away　from　the　wound　and　probed　gently　at　his　shoulder。　It　didn't　feel　gentle　at　all。　She　reached　around　to　his　back　pocket　for　a　handkerchief　and　pressed　it　against　the　center　of　the　wound。
　　　　〃That　doesn't　feel　right；〃　she　remarked　to　no　one。
　　　　〃Daddy；　you're　all　bloody！〃　Sally　stood　an　arm's　length　away；　her　hands　fluttering　like　the　wings　of　a　baby　bird。　Jack　wanted　to　reach　out　to　her；　to　tell　her　everything　was　all　right；　but　the　three　feet　of　distance　might　as　well　have　been　a　thousand　miles　　and　his　shoulder　was　telling　him　that　things　were　definitely　not　all　right。
　　　　There　were　now　about　ten　police　officers　around　the　car；　many　of　them　panting　for　breath。　Three　had　handguns　out；　and　were　scanning　the　gathering　crowd。　Two　more　red…coated　soldiers　appeared　from　the　west。　A　police　sergeant　approached。　Before　he　could　say　anything　Cathy　looked　up　to　bark　an　order。　
　　　　〃Call　an　ambulance　right　now〃'
　　　　〃On　the　way；　mum；〃　the　Sergeant　replied　with　surprising　good　manners。　〃Why　don't　you　let　us　look　after　that？〃　
　　　　〃I'm　a　doctor；〃　she　answered　curtly。　〃You　have　a　knife？〃　
　　　　The　Sergeant　turned　to　remove　the　bayonet　from　the　first　guardsman's　rifle　and　stooped　down　to　assist。　Cathy　held　the　coat　and　vest　clear　for　him　to　cut　away；　then　both　cut　the　shirt　free　from　his　shoulder。　She　tossed　the　handkerchief　clear。　It　was　already　blood…sodden。　Jack　started　to　protest。
　　　　〃Shut　up。　Jack。〃　She　looked　over　to　the　Sergeant　and　jerked　her　chin　toward　Sally。　〃Get　her　away　from　here。〃　
　　　　The　Sergeant　gestured　for　a　guardsman　to　e　over。　The　Private　scooped　Sally　up　in　his　arms。　He　took　her　a　few　feet　away；　cradling　her　gently　to　his　chest。　Jack　saw　his　little　girl　crying　pitifully；　but　somehow　it　all　seemed　to　be　very　far　away。　He　felt　his　skin　go　cold　and　moist　　shock？
　　　　〃Damn；〃　Cathy　said　gruffly。　The　Sergeant　handed　her　a　thick　bandage。　She　pressed　it　against　the　wound　and　it　immediately　went　red　as　she　tried　to　tie　it　in　place。　Ryan　groaned。　It　felt　as　though　someone　had　taken　an　ax　to　his　shoulder。
　　　　〃Jack；　what　the　hell　were　you　trying　to　do？〃　she　demanded　through　clenched　teeth　as　she　fumbled　with　the　cloth　ties。
　　　　Ryan　snarled　back；　the　sudden　anger　helping　to　block　out　the　pain。　〃I　didn't　try　　I　fucking　did　it！〃　The　effort　required　to　say　that　took　half　his　strength　away　with　it。
　　　　〃Uh…huh；〃　Cathy　grunted。　〃Well；　you're　bleeding　like　a　pig；　Jack。〃
　　　　More　men　ran　in　from　the　other　direction。　It　seemed　that　a　hundred　sirens　were　converging　on　the　scene　with　men　　some　in　uniform；　some　not　　leaping　out　to　join　the　party。　A　uniformed　policeman　with　more　ornate　shoulder　boards　began　to　shout　orders　at　the　others。　The　scene　was　impressive。　A　separate；　detached　part　of　Ryan's　brain　catalogued　it。　There　he　was；　sitting　against　the　Rolls；　his　shirt　soaked　red　as　though　blood　had　been　poured　from　a　pitcher。　Cathy；　her　hands　covered　with　her　husband's　blood；　was　still　trying　to　arrange　the　bandage　correctly。　His　daughter　was　gasping　out　tears　in　the　arms　of　a　burly　young　soldier　who　seemed　to　be　singing　to　her　in　a　language　that　Jack　couldn't　make　out。　Sally's　eyes　were　locked　on　him；　full　of　desperate　anguish。　The　detached　part　of　his　mind　found　all　this　very　amusing　until　another　wave　of　pain　yanked　him　back　to　reality。
　　　　The　policeman　who'd　evidently　taken　charge　came　up　to　them　after　first　checking　the　perimeter。　〃Sergeant；　move　him　aside。〃　
　　　　Cathy　looked　up　and　snapped　angrily：　〃Open　the　other　side；　dammit；　I　got　a　bleeder　here！〃
　　　　〃The　other　door's　jammed；　ma'am。　Let　me　help。〃　Ryan　heard　a　different　kind　of　siren　as　they　bent　down。　The　three　of　them　moved　him　aside　a　foot　or　so；　and　the　senior　officer　made　to　open　the　car　door。　They　hadn't　moved　him　far　enough。　When　the　door　swung　open；　its　edge　caught　Ryan's　shoulder。　The　last　thing　he　heard　before　passing　out　was　his　own　scream　of　pain。

　　　　Ryan's　eyes　focused　slowly；　his　consciousness　a　hazy；　variable　thing　that　reported　items　out　of　place　and　out　of　time。　For　a　moment　he　was　inside　a　vehicle　of　some　sort。　The　lateral　movements　of　its　passage　rippled　agony　through　his　chest；　and　there　was　an　awful　atonal　sound　in　the　distance；　though　not　all　that　far　away。　He　thought　he　saw　two　faces　he　vaguely　recognized。　Cathy　was　there；　too；　wasn't　she　　no；　there　were　some　people　in　green。　Everything　was　soft　and　vague　except　the　burning　pain　in　his　shoulder　and　chest；　but　when　he　blinked　his　eyes　all　were　gone。　He　was　someplace　else　again。
　　　　The　ceiling　was　white　and　nearly　featureless　at　first。　Ryan　knew　somehow　that　he　was　under　the　influence　of　drugs。　He　recognized　the　feelings；　but　could　not　remember　why。　It　required　several　minutes　of　lazy　concentration　for　him　to　determine　that　the　ceiling　was　made　of　white　acoustical　tiles　on　a　white　metal　framework。　Some　of　the　tiles　were　waterstained　and　served　to　give　him　a　reference。　Others　were　translucent　plastic　for　the　soft　fluorescent　lighting。　There　was　something　tied　under　his　nose；　and　after　a　moment　he　began　to　feel　a　cool　gas　tracing　into　his　nostrils　　oxygen？　His　other　senses　began　to　report　in　one　at　a　time。　Expanding　radially　down　from　his　head；　they　began　to　explore　his　body　and　reported　reluctantly　to　his　brain。　Some　unseen　things　were　taped　to　his　chest。　He　could　feel　them　pulling　at　the　hairs　that　Cathy　liked　to　play　with　when　she　was　drunk。　His　left　shoulder　felt　。　。　。　didn't　really　feel　at　all。　His　whole　body　was　far　too　heavy　to　move　even　an　inch。
　　　　A　hospital；　he　decided　after　several　minutes。　Why　am　I　in　a　hospital　。　。　。？　It　took　an　indeterminate　period　of　concentration　for　Jack　to　remember　why　he　was　here。　When　it　came　to　him；　it　was　just　as　well　that　he　could　contemplate　the　taking　of　a　human　life　from　within　the　protective　fog　of　drugs。
　　　　I　was　shot；　too；　wasn't　I？　Ryan　turned　his　head　slowly　to　the　right。　A　bottle　of　IV　fluids　was　hanging　on　a　metal　stand　next　to　the　bed；　its　rubber　hose　trailing　down　under　the　sheet　where　his　arm　was　tied　down。　He　tried　to　feel　the　prick　of　the　catheter　that　had　to　be　inside　the　right　elbow；　but　couldn't。　His　mouth　was　cottony　dry。　Well；　I　wasn't　shot　on　the　right　side　。　。　。　Next　he　tried　to　turn　his　head　to　the　left。　Something　soft　but　very　firm　prevented　it。　Ryan　wasn't　able　to　care　very　much　about　it。　Even　his　curiosity　for　his　condition　was　a　tenuous　thing。　For　some　reason　his　surroundings　seemed　much　more　interesting　than　his　own　body。　Looking　directly　up；　he　saw　a　TV…like　instrument；　along　with　some　other　electronic　stuff；　none　of　which　he　could　make　out　at　the　acute　angle。　EKG　readout？　Something　like　that；　he　decided。　It　all　figured。　He　was　in　a　surgical　recovery　room；　wired　up　like　an　astronaut　while　the　staff　decided　if　he'd　live　or　not。　The　drugs　helped　him　to　consider　the　question　with　marvelous　objectivity。
　　　　〃Ah；　we're　awake。〃　A　voice　other　than　the　distant；　muffled　tone　of　the　PA　system。　Ryan　dropped　his　chin　to　see　a　nurse　of　about　fifty。　She　had　a　Bette　Davis　face　crinkled　by　years　of　frowns。　He　tried　to　speak　to　her；　but　his　mouth　seemed　glued　shut。　What　came　out　was　a　cross　between　a　rasp　and　a　croak。　The　nurse　disappeared　while　he　tried　to　decide　what　exactly　the　sound　was。
　　　　A　man　appeared　a　minute　or　so　later。　He　was　also　in　his　fifties；　tall　and　spare；　dressed　in　surgical　greens。　There　was　a　Stethoscope　hanging　from　his　neck；　and　he　seemed　to　be　carrying　something　that　Ryan　couldn't　quite　see。　He　seemed　rather　tired；　but　wore　a　satisfied　smile。
　　　　〃So；〃　he　said；　〃we're　awake。　How　are　we　feeling？〃　Ryan　managed　a　full…fledged　croak　this　time。　The　doctor　　？　　gestured　to　the　nurse。　She　came　forward　to　give　Ryan　a　sip　of　water　through　a　glass　straw。
　　　　〃Thanks。〃　He　sloshed　the　water　around　his　mouth。　It　was　not　enough　to　swallow。　His　mouth　tissues　seemed　to　absorb　it　all　at　once。　〃Where　am　I？〃
　　　　〃You　are　in　the　surgical　recovery　unit　of　St。　Thomas's　Hospital。　You　are　recovering　from　surgery　on　your　upper　left　arm　and　shoulder。　I　am　your　surgeon。　My　team　and　I　have　been　working　on　you　for；　oh；　about　six　hours　now；　and　it　would　appear　that　you　will　probably　live；〃　he　added　judiciously。　He　seemed　to　regard　Ryan　as　a　successful　piece　of　work。
　　　　Rather　slowly　and　sluggishly　Ryan　thought　to　himself　that　the　English　sense　of　humor；　admirable　as　it　might　otherwise　be；　was　a　little　too　dry　for　this　sort　of　situation。　He　was　posing　a　reply　when　Cathy　came　into　view。　The　Bette　Davis　nurse　moved　to　head　her　off。
　　　　〃I'm　sorry；　Mrs。　Ryan；　but　only　medical　person　〃　
　　　　〃I'm　a　doctor。〃　She　held　up　her　plastic　ID　card。　The　man　took　it。
　　　　〃Wilmer　Eye　Institute；　Johns　Hopkins　Hospital。〃　The　su