So Many Goodbyes

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A few days later, I was discharged from the hospital with a prescription for a very strong painkiller. I wasn’t planning on taking any but my mother had insisted that I take them all the same. My mother drove me home, and when I stepped in, she had put up a welcome home banner and baked a cake, which she only did for my birthday. It was delicious, but the icing made me feel ill, after only having hospital food for a few days. I managed to hobble up the stairs, but it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I just had to be careful not to pull the stitches out, otherwise the wound would open up again, and I didn’t want that. Somehow, I managed to slip into my comfy clothes without being in too much pain, but sitting and lying down was still a problem. I couldn’t flop, because the shockwave would jar something that would send pain to my ribs, and I couldn’t ease myself down because the pressure put on my hand somehow was linked to my ribs, and my other hand was the knife wound, so I was kind of stuck. I manoeuvred myself to ease myself onto my elbow and down from there, which made it slightly easier. The police still hadn’t found my step father, and I suspected that they never would. Well, not for a long time at least (although when they do, I hope he’s died of liver poisoning or something). I wanted to rest that day, because the next day was Sunday, and I wasn’t missing another session. No matter how painful it is, I’m not missing another Sunday. Even if I just do shooting practise, I don’t care. I’m not missing it. I won’t.

I woke up bright and early on Sunday morning, got dressed in my issued uniform and started to walk to the training area. It wasn’t too far out of town, but I still had to catch a train because you weren’t allowed to walk outside the caged areas of the cities and farms. And apparently, a train was safe to travel in. The first stop was the training camp, and I hovered at the gate. The guard on duty smiled when he saw me step off the train.

“Howdy, Miss Walsh!” he called to me.

“Morning, Buster!” I called back. I walked towards the gate, holding my left arm as if it was in a sling to stop the pain in my ribs getting too great. Buster raised the tip of his cap as I drew closer.

“Heard what ‘appened to ya. I wasn’t expecting ya for a few weeks.”

“Always get back in the saddle when you fall off a horse.” I told him. He held up a small little finger heart reader, and I held out my hand for him. It was standard issue to all gate guards, and it was a way of making sure that no zombie just walked in through the front gate. After a few beeps and a long one, Buster pulled a smaller door open for me.

“Good ta see ya still human.” I gave Buster a small salute and kept on walking to my little locker. In it was nothing really. A few spare clothes, a couple of photos of me holding different weapons and uniforms, a few spare clips of ammunition, and a few targets from my first shots on the range. I put my bag inside the locker, shoving it inside, and took out a sandwich to munch on while the others arrived. I was always the first on in, and the last one out. I loved this place, and I loved spending time here. It was my kind of place. I heard the squeal of the gate as it opened, but instead of hearing the engine of a rusting car, I heard the engine of a new one, and groaned a little. It must be the good Doctor in his fancy sports car.

“Compensation much?” I muttered under my breath as he picked a parking space that Scott always chose. Dr Fitzroy stepped out, straightened his jacket and ran a finger over his moustache.

“A lot of compensation.” I muttered as he saw me. Make sure you put emphasis on the word ‘lot’. He strode over to me, taking long gangly steps with his unnaturally looking long legs. If anyone has seen a room with a view, the old one with Helen Bonham Carter in it, he is the spitting image of Cecil played by Daniel Day-Lewis. Yep, the exact spitting image. I folded my arms as he drew closer to me.