BARE HUNTER

I was not feeling comfortable with the Psychologist the hospital had sent to see me. I wanted him to leave, but I was in no position to make demands.

"Think of these unpleasant feelings you are having as cats in a tied bag. When they are in the dark, jumbled together, they are angry, fighting, and clawing to get out. That’s what your thoughts are doing to you. Making you angry with everything and everyone. These thoughts are dangerous when left to fight it out in a bag.”

“I’m not angry. I’m not dangerous. I’m a pretty calm guy.”

“Do you have memory gaps?” he pressed on.

“What do they have to do with anything?”

“You may not be aware of reacting to triggers with a rage response if you have memory gaps.”

“I think I’d know if I was busting stuff up and shit. I mean, wouldn’t I see the damage when I came to?”

“Not necessarily, if the damage is done to another person and you leave no clues. I want you to think about that, about people you may have hurt. I’m going to add a sedative to your IV bag, to help you sleep without night terrors. It’s similar to your Zoloft but a hospital dose,” he said, pulling a vial out of his lab coat pocket and adjusting the drip settings on the IV.

As he was ready to inject the sedative, a nurse’s aide came in with my dinner tray. Doc Porter beat a hasty retreat out of my room before administering his magic potion. My spidey senses were tingling. Something about him gave me the willies.

“Hey, did you recognize that doctor?” I asked the aide.

“Nope. But I only work a few nights a week. Maybe he's new.”

“Can you send in a nurse when you’re done?” I asked.

“Sure. Can I open anything for you before I leave? Some of these tops are hard to get off.”

“No, I’m good. Don’t forget to send that nurse, please.”

The meal wasn’t exactly five-star, but it was filling, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the tray in front of me. By the time I finished eating, a nurse came into the room.

“You needed something, Mr. Bronsky?”

“Yeah, do you have a psychologist on staff named Doctor Porter?”

“Since the pandemic, people have been coming and going, like this is the Land of Oz. Why?”

“He was going to give me a sedative, but Dr. Carpenter said he wanted to wait until the Thorazine was out of my system. Just wondered why they’d be putting something more into me.”

“Well, who knows what doctors are thinking? I’ll check for you.”

Someone tapped quietly on the door. I looked up, great. Greg was standing there with flowers clutched in his hand. Was he looking for a date, or what? “Hey, Ted. Wanted to see you and Sharon tonight. Oh, these? Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out. These are for Sharon. Didn’t think you were the roses and daisies type,” he said, uncomfortably.

“Hey, Greg, thanks for stopping by. I think I’m off the case. Can you finish the project without me?” I asked, hopeful that my health problems would keep me from doing his bidding.

“No problem, buddy. Just get better. Whoa, they told me at the desk your heart just stopped. What the hell happened?”

“If you find out, tell me about it. I’ve been feeling like shit for weeks. It finally caught up with me, I guess.”

“Well, don’t stress out about our project. That’s taken care of. You keep the raise and the promotion, though, just for being willing to help me.”

“Greg, in what capacity do you know Cap, er, General Howard?”

“Oh, boy. I was hoping this would never come up,” he said, walking to the door and silently closing it. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and leaned in, “Here’s the deal. You cannot, and I mean you can never, ever tell another living soul what I’m about to tell you.”