“What the hell?” the man muttered.
“What’s up?” his partner asked.
“I could have sworn I felt broken, displaced bones and heard all the sounds of a collapsed lung, but now, nothing.” He kept feeling around. “Some breaks, but this is weird.”
“Weirder than dying?” Baz asked.
“Oh no, sorry sir.” The guy sat back. “I’m just confused.”
“If only more confusion occurred with good news.”
“Yeah,” the paramedic said weakly.
“We’re two minutes out,” the driver called back.
“They’ll x-ray you top to bottom,” the second medic said. “Get your injuries sorted.” He smiled, a plastic expression that didn’t reach his eyes.
Fuck, this was just the sort of situation all vampires strived to avoid. The rapid healing their bodies underwent was the stuff of science fiction and conspiracy theories. But, if he was injured as badly as he suspected he had been—squished between two heavy vehicles— he shouldn’t be healing this fast.
Odd...
Getting out of the damned ambulance before they reached the hospital would be best, but the medics had his name. If he bailed, what could they do? He sure as shit couldn’t allow the hospital to perform any diagnostic tests on him or his blood.
The ambulance pulled into a large garage-like area. The two paramedics in the back opened the rear doors and jumped out. They were talking to someone about their patient, relating his circumstances of his accident.
Someone else called out to the driver of the ambulance, which resulted in the driver leaving the vehicle.
A few seconds later, someone else slid into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and drove the idling vehicle forward.
Very odd...
No one yelled or ran after the ambulance. The driver sped up slowly and left the loading and unloading zone, the rear doors of the ambulance swinging back and forth.
This was an interesting development. And convenient. A little too convenient.
The ambulance traveled for a couple of blocks, Baz guessed, before slowing to a stop and someone entering from the rear. This new arrival closed and secured the doors, then moved around so they were sitting close enough for Baz to see him clearly.
“Hello again,” the man said with a vicious smile. The man with the square, flat face, thick neck, and tattoos. He pulled out a handgun and screwed a silencer onto the end of it. “I must say, it’s a surprise to see you still alive. I was certain I’d squashed you until you were dead, but here you are, breathing, and conscious.” He seemed happy enough about the development to be almost giddy.
“I’m sorry,” Baz said in a rough but conciliatory tone. “What did I do to deserve squashing?”
The man paused for a moment, smiled broadly, then finished screwing on the silencer. “Talking even. You are a surprise.”
The broken bones of his right arm snapped back into place. You have no idea how big a surprise I’m going to be.
“Is this a business thing?” Baz asked, as he tightened muscles to see what hurt and what didn’t. He was healing fast, but was it fast enough?
“Very much so,” flat face said. “You’ve gotten in the way of my employer’s business several times, and that can’t go unanswered. You understand.”
“I do,” Baz said. “It must have been a terrible disappointment when your people kept failing thanks to one, insignificant, lowlife cab driver.”
The man rested his gun on Baz’s chest and leaned forward. “I am curious about that.” He tilted his head to one side, examining Baz like he was a bug. “How did you manage to get in our way so often?”
“I’m a military veteran. I received a lot of...” Baz deliberately paused before finishing his sentence in a dry tone. “training.”
“Interesting,” flat face mused as if Baz had said something revolutionary. He nodded a couple of times. “I think you have a point.”
“Which point would that be?” He was stalling for time, time to heal, time to figure what his body could do and couldn’t do.