Post by GREG DECKER on Aug 31, 2023 21:07:16 GMT
Clea winked at him as she set the bag down on the counter. ”They slipped in an extra scoop of fries. Make sure you finish them.” AKA you’re looking too skinny these days, you need to take care of yourself.
Picking it up, Deck started to wave off her worries. Had he lost a few pounds in the long months since the vampire had coerced him into helping her steal from the blood bank? The size he’d dropped in scrubs would say absolutely. He was aware though and in the last month he’d been trying to pull himself back from the brink. The runs that had been his saving grace after he’d started pulling himself together here the first time were back on his schedule. An hour before dusk if he was working an early shift, just after dawn if he was on nights, tiring himself out so he’d sleep straight through those daylight hours.
PTSD wasn’t a disease you could cure. It clung like cobwebs, ready to wrap around you, to smother you when you least expected it. There were ways to cope though, to ease the symptoms to the point where you could cope with daily life. Maybe it would bite again later, but you could live a normal life with it. Deck had just found himself at that point when he’d found the vampire in the hallway with the nurse she’d apparently compelled into helping her out. That had made it worse, Deck had found when he’d started trying to pick apart why all of this had affected him so badly when he should’ve already known that there were things out there. She’d given him the option of having his memory of it all wiped and he’d turned her down. If he’d just said yes he’d have carried on as he was, slowly hauling himself out of that abyss instead of tumbling straight back into it.
His fingers curled tight around the bag as he turned and headed out, waving back at Clea as she scurried off to deal with someone at the other end of the bar. He’d been trying to do that with the long slow climb back out too. No slip ups, no back sliding, just those steady steps that had him sleeping better than he had done in months. Maybe he had Dr Fell to thank for that too.
Deck left the Grill and strolled towards his truck. Maybe tomorrow he’d take some lunch in for her, a thanks for being that shoulder to lean on. Whatever he managed to scrape together from the scant contents of his fridge had to be better than what she’d get out of the vending machines – maybe not the cafeteria though. It was probably wiser just to offer to talk her out of the ER for a half hour and offer to pay for her meal. There was a reason he was carrying a cheese burger and fries home for dinner after all.
Only a few yards from his truck, Deck tucked the bag between his teeth to dig through his pockets for the keys. If he’d been thinking straight when he’d left the truck after a 12 hour shift he’d have clipped them to his belt loop instead of shoving them randomly into a pocket. His nose wrinkled at the scent that rose from the bag. Something raw and meaty with just enough of a hint of blood that he had to swallow hard to try and chase it away.
Deck plucked the bag from his mouth and looked down at it. Clea knew by now that he liked his burgers to be cooked through. No medium, no practically mooing as it went into his mouth (inviting food poisoning, no thanks). Even with the bag away from his face the smell remained. His stomach began to churn, his movements growing twitchy as he turned a slow circle on the sidewalk. He half expected the vampire to come walking out of the shadow clad alley to his right with the remains of her last meal smeared around her face.
A slow shift of those shadows had him taking a step back. In this town it was wiser to keep moving, but he was a doctor, he’d made a vow to save lives. ”Is there someone there?” His voice didn’t break at least, but there was a croak to it that he cleared to ease by clearing his throat. ”If you’re hurt I can help … I’m a doctor.” And he was going to be a fool again if this was another case of this town trying to teach him what was really out there.
Tagged: Open Thread * Word Count: 777