Page 16 of Don't Bite the Botanist
Chapter ten
Ethan
Holy shit.
He was really doing it. He was going to hunt down and kill a vampire.
Three months ago, his biggest concern was stabilizing the chemical compound for the new plant extract that might actually provide a lasting cure for heart disease. Not a small thing, and definitely not something he intended to forget about, but still…
Did this make him a vampire hunter now too? Did he need to stock up on garlic? Should he get one of those tattoos the Winchester brothers had?
He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that last thought. It was a rare occasion when logic took a back seat to fantastical notions in his life, but considering those fantastical notions were quickly becoming less fantasy and more reality, he needed to start thinking with his rational brain again. Which meant the first thing he needed to do was find out how much Tressa knew about vampires. He highly doubted the stuff he learned from TV was going to be accurate.
No, scratch that. Thefirstthing he needed to do was get out ofthis damn hospital bed. His brief conversation with the detective on his case that morning told him he already knew more than they did, so nothing was going to happen until he got out there and started hunting the vampire down.
He glared at the stoic nurse who had just stabbed a needle into his vein with little warning and zero attempts at a gentle touch, but he doubted she noticed or cared about his reaction. Maybe she was a vampire for as much blood as she kept taking. It all felt so unnecessary. He was awake, and he felt… fine. More or less. He wouldn’t be signing up for VieTek’s annual half-marathon anytime soon, but he could mostly function. What more did they need to keep him there for?
He didn’t want any more tests; he wanted to get out and hunt down that monster. Three months it had been roaming the streets, probably killing more innocent people. It could have gone anywhere in that time. It might not even be in the country anymore.
And these damn doctors didn’t even want him getting out of bed? Fuck that shit.
Turning away from the pseudo-vampire-slash-nurse, he fixed his glare on Dr. Kim. “You want me to do what?”
She clicked a few buttons on the hospital computer before turning the monitor away to fix Ethan with the kind of no-nonsense stare that came from years of dealing with combative patients. “Ethan, we need to move you to a long-term rehab facility,” she said plainly. “You’ve been in a coma for three months. It’s going to require extensive physical and psychological rehab to get you back to one hundred percent functionality.”
He scoffed and adjusted his glasses with the hand that wasn’t still trapped by the blood-stealing nurse. “No offense, Doctor, but I feel fine. Yes, I’m a little weak, but that’s nothing a few days in the gymcan’t fix.”
The frown on Dr. Kim’s face deepened as she folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t think you fully understand the situation here, Ethan. You can’t simply stroll out of this room and dive back into your old life and routine. Beyond the physical atrophy of your muscles, you may experience issues with breathing, swallowing, and walking. Not to mention the psychological impact. Many coma patients struggle with lifelong post-traumatic stress disorder after a near death experience like yours.”
As if on cue, the image of the vampire’s fangs descending on his neck popped into Ethan’s head, prompting a bead of sweat to form on his brow. It was almost laughable to think any psychiatrist would be able to help him. He highly doubted many people had an experience like his and lived to get therapy for it. There was no diagnosis in the DSM-5 for vampire-related trauma.
Ignoring the queasy feeling in his gut that came from reliving his nightmare, he returned his attention to the haggard doctor, matching her unyielding expression. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“And I’m telling you that you have no way of knowing that,” she argued. “The body is a complex instrument, and many symptoms don’t show up immediately. You might think you’re fine, but all you’ve managed to accomplish so far is making it from the bed to the bathroom.”
Ethan gripped the sheets, channeling his annoyance into his fingers so he didn’t start shouting. “Yes,” he said in a razor calm voice, “and I was able to.”
“You fell twice.”
“And I got back up.”
“Ethan…”
He let out a small growl of frustration. It wasn’t that he lacked respect for doctors or their medical knowledge, he just knew fromfirsthand experience they weren’t always correct, and most of them rarely cared about the patient’s opinion.
“Listen, Dr. Kim, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I know my rights. You can’t legally keep me here.”
The woman grit her teeth. “Legally, no. But you leaving goes so far against my medical advice that—”
“I don’t care,” he interjected before she could get started on another lecture. “I’ll sign as many releases or waivers as you want, but Iamleaving.”
She evaluated him for a long moment, then shook her head, clearly disappointed in his decision. “Will you at least stay overnight for observation?”
A muscle ticked in Ethan’s jaw, but he nodded.
“Fine,” the doctor said, rising from her chair. “I’ll prepare the paperwork and send in a physical therapist to go over some exercises. Perhaps they can talk some sense into you and at least get you to commit to an outpatient program.”
Not bloody likely.
