VII
TaylorDamn, he needed a cigarette.
He had spent most of his day in this hospital bed craving one and being taunted by glossy Virginia Slims ads in the old magazines he had flipped through. He considered leaving the hospital just to find a pack of cigarettes until his attempt to stand made him reconsider the idea. The pain that cut through him brought home just how much of it was being muted by a cocktail of drugs that had yet to wear off.
Judy, the day nurse, continued to check on him at regular intervals. When she changed his dressing, Hunter was able to see the extent of his injuries. The raw wound in his chest was replaced by a swollen line of discolored tissue, held closed by surgical thread. He had to admire the neatness of the stitches across his skin and wondered how long it
