Chapter Eight: Pia and Hussein
Ranglen awoke in a hospital bed. He pushed through shrouds of semi-delirium and found the face of Pia Folinari.
“Good morning,” she said to him, all peaches and cream.
Her face suddenly looked so appealing. He muttered, “Am I alive?”
“Yes, of course, but you were bruised, burned, and unconscious for a while. It helped that you were running when the explosion occurred. They can tell that, you know, what you were doing. But no one cares about forensics anymore.”
Ranglen groaned at her cynicism. He tried to move but most of his body was too numb, or hurt.
“You relax,” she said. “I’ll come back later.”
Before he let himself fall back asleep, which he dearly wanted to do, he said, “Am I under arrest or something?”
She sounded disappointed. “No, we hardly s
