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and skipped town quite a while ago.

“So hungry,” she mumbled. Her toes dragged along the sidewalk, her steps short and labored. One of her shoes was missing. “So hungry.”

“Can I call someone for you?” Lance took a step toward her.

“Maybe we should let the paramedics handle this.” Don pulled his cell out and dialed 911. “Yeah, we have a woman walking down the sidewalk that needs some help. Ninth and Grant. She’s mumbling to herself and looks like she hasn’t seen the sun in a decade. No, she’s not bleeding. Look, she’s all kinds of fucked up. Send someone down here pronto.”

She continued on, bumping into people, teetering on unsure ankles.

Lance followed her, wanting to make sure she didn’t hurt herself, his problems momentarily melting away. The condition of her skin stayed front and center in his mind, the varicose veins bothering him more than anything else did. What could make someone look so horrible?

The stench of soured dairy emanated from her pores.

Don jogged to catch up to him, dropping his phone into the pocket of his expensive suit. “Ambulance is on the way. They were being a major pain in the ass about it.”

“What do you think is wrong with her?” Lance asked.

“Drugs, probably. What else makes you incoherent and turns your skin to shit?” Don frowned at the woman as they followed her. “Why exactly are we keeping tabs on her still?”

“Because I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah, me too.”

“Besides, she doesn’t look like a drug addict to me.”

“Lance, your powers of deduction suck. Look at her, buddy. She’s high as a kite.”

Lance pointed at the back of her head. “Check out her hair.”

“What about it?”

“It’s nice. She takes care of herself. Her jeans are designer and that is one huge ass diamond on her finger. This isn’t some crackhead turning tricks for her next fix.”

Don inspected her. “I take it back—you might be on to something here. So what are we looking at? A woman who caught a disease or something?”

“Dunno.”

“Shouldn’t we stay away from her then? What if she has the bird flu or mad cow?”

Lance recognized his opportunity. “Good idea. Why don’t you hang back and I’ll take care of this? You can make sure the ambulance finds us. It was nice catching up.” He really hoped that Don would finally leave him in peace.

“Shit, buddy. I can’t leave you alone with her. Besides, you never told me what happened with Liz.”

Damn it.

She staggered sideways, brushing against a man eating a hotdog. The food fell from his hand, landing against his white shirt and green tie, ketchup and mustard staining everything.

“Goddamn it!” The man scowled at his shirt in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing, lady?” He turned on her, his mouth falling agape as he took in the cobweb of veins running through her face. “Jesus!”

“Just stay back!” Lance said as he walked up to the man.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“No idea, but I wouldn’t touch her if I were you.”

The man wiped at the condiments on his shirt. “Too late for that, bro.”

Lance and Don continued walking, staying five feet behind her. People gave her a wide berth now, wary of coming anywhere near the sickly woman. She seemed oblivious to everyone’s presence, careening along as if she were alone on the sidewalk.

A teenager with ear buds in, his head bobbing to music, jogged across the street, his eyes turned to look for traffic, and plowed right into her. They both fell to the ground, limbs sprawling across the concrete. An iPhone fell from the teen’s pocket, scraping along the harsh surface.

The kid’s head snapped around, lips curling in anger. “You stupid—”

He cut himself off when he saw her complexion, his rage shifting to fear. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his cell and sprinting away, throwing a concerned glance over his shoulder.

The woman, now scratched and bleeding, worked her way back to her feet, muttering to herself about her hunger.

“She’s completely out of it, buddy,” Don said.

Lance wanted grab her arm and force her to stand still until the paramedics arrived, but he was afraid of catching whatever she had. Instead, he did his best to warn people away, shouting every few seconds at someone else who wasn’t paying attention.

They crossed half of a block when Don stopped, shaking his head. “I’m done. No way am I going to risk getting sick. She’s all messed up and we’re crazy if we keep following her.”

“I’ll take it from here,” Lance said, turning back. “It’s not like I have anything else to do today.”

“I’m sorry, buddy. Diseases scare the hell out of me.” Don’s eyes cut from Lance to the woman and back again. “I feel like a real shit leaving you.”

Lance looked him over and felt that his old co-worker was being sincere. He softened a little, wondering if he might have overreacted to Don when they first bumped into each other. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

“Don’t worry about it. Good luck with your investment or whatever.”

“Sorry for prying about Liz too. That was uncalled for.”

“Again, don’t—”

“Shit!” Don pointed over Lance’s shoulder, his face reddening.

“What?” Lance spun around and saw the woman stepping off the curb, teetering into the bustling street.

Don cursed but didn’t move.

Lance jumped forward, ten feet away, unsure if he would make it to the woman before a car flattened her like a pancake.

Horns blared.

People shouted.

She kept going, wandering blindly across the painted lines.

Lance ran around the back end of a parked car, swearing under his breath as he closed the distance.

A cab swerved around a stopped water truck, the driver slapping at the horn in impatience. The man was too busy glaring at the truck to see what lay ahead.

Lance saw it coming at the last second, having little time to react.

He reached the woman and shoved her as hard as he could, lifting her feet from the ground. He felt her frailness through her shirt in the split second before her body flew away from him.

There was no time to brace himself for the inevitable.

Pain registered for a moment before everything went dark.

2

Raucous laughter pulled Lance out of the fog.

His head pounded as he struggled to open heavy eyelids.

More chuckling.

Bright overhead lights hurt his eyes as they adjusted, shapes taking form around him. White paint covered everything except the television in the corner of the room and the pants and shoes elevated on his bed.

Friends played on the TV, the audience roaring every few seconds.

Lance followed the legs and groaned when he saw Don sitting beside him. He slouched in a seat beside the bed, his legs propped on Lance’s sheets, a small bag of Cheetos resting in his lap. He laughed almost as much as the audience did.

One at a time, Lance wriggled his fingers and toes, making sure he felt every sensation.

“Thank God,” he whispered.

“You’re awake!” Don retracted his legs so quickly that the half-empty bag of Cheetos spilled on his fancy suit. “Damn it.”

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“You’ve been in and out for a while. We spoke a couple of times too, but I’m guessing you don’t remember that,” Don said, brushing cheese powder from his chest. “Christ, what a mess.”

Lance pushed himself to a seated position with a herculean effort. “I feel like I was run over by a car.”

Don gaped at him. “You were run over, buddy.”

“I was being ironical.”

“Oh. Funny guy.”

“You’ve been here with me the entire time?”

“Yup. I was starting to get seriously bored too.”

Lance thought that his first impression of Don truly had been wrong. He definitely wasn’t the giant ass that he originally thought. The guy didn’t need to wait bedside for someone he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“Thanks, Don. Really. I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do. Honestly, I feel pretty guilty because I was just about to leave you there to deal with that woman alone.” The tie around Don’s neck was loosened, hanging a few inches below his collar, the top button of his shirt undone.

“What happened to the sick woman?”

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