Chapter Thirteen
Lincoln made his way up Cogswell Street. The pills were a wonder. He knew the moment they started to wear off. The pain would creep and nudge. If he left it too long it would flare. As long as he took the pills regularly, though, he felt pretty good. Better than good, he was tempted to walk on his ankle he felt so good; he just needed to make sure he didn’t take too many. Not again.
But he wouldn't, and he wouldn’t walk on his ankle. He'd tried it once, not a great idea, and if he pushed it, was out and up on his feet ... foot ... for more than thirty minutes or so the pain would seep through the effect of the drugs, making him groggy and weak.
Two weeks. He'd give it that long before trying to get back to life. An injury could linger for years if not treated properly.
