Everything would be great if it weren’t for the pain.

“HELP ME!”

The pain and Tommy.

He hit the button again. Four hours had to be up! He needed that shot!

The door to the room swung open and someone came in. It wasn’t a nurse. It was a guy. But he was dressed in white. Maybe a male nurse. Great! All he needed now was some faggot trying to give him a bed bath in the middle of the night.

But the guy only leaned over the bed and held out one of those tiny plastic medicine cups. Half an inch of colored liquid was inside.

“What’s this?”

“For the pain.” The guy was dark and had some sort of accent.

“I want a shot, clown!”

“Not time yet for a shot. This will hold you until then.”

“It better.”

Ron let him tip the cup up to his lips. It was funny tasting stuff. As he swallowed it, he noticed the guy’s left arm was missing. He pulled his head away.

“And listen,” he said, feeling a sudden urge to throw his weight around—after all, he was a patient here. “Tell them out there I don’t want no more cripples coming in here.”

In the darkness, Ron thought he detected a smile on the face above him.

“Certainly, Mr. Daniels. I shall see to it that your next attendant is quite sound of limb.”

“Good. Now take off, geek.”

“Very well.”

Ron decided he liked being a patient. He could give orders and people had to listen. And why not? He was sick and—

“HELP ME!”

If only he could order Tommy to stop.

The junk the geek had given him didn’t seem to be helping his pain. Only thing to do was try to sleep. He thought about that bastard cop who’d busted up his hands tonight. He said it was private, but Ron knew a pig when he saw one. He swore he’d find that sadist bastard even if he had to hang around every precinct house in New York until winter. And then Ron would follow him home. He wouldn’t get back at him directly —Ron had a bad feeling about that guy and didn’t want to be around if he ever got really mad. But maybe he had a wife and kids…

Ron lay there in a half-doze for a good forty-five minutes planning what he’d do to get even with the pig. He was just tipping over the edge into a deep sleep, falling… finally falling…

“HELP ME!”

Ron jerked violently in the bed, pulling his right arm out of the suspensory sling and knocking it against the side rail. A fiery blast of pain shot up to his shoulder. Tears squeezed out of his eyes as breath hissed noisily through his bared teeth.

When the pain subsided to a more tolerable level, he knew what he had to do.

That old fucker, Tommy, had to go.

Ron pulled his left arm out of its sling, then eased himself over the side rail. The floor was cold. He lifted his pillow between his two casts and padded over to Tommy’s bed. All he had to do was lay it over the old guy’s face and lean on it. A few minutes of that and poof, no more snores, no more yells, no more Tommy.