Read The Fall of the Governor, Part 2 for Free Online Page B

begun to close over and heal.
    â€œI wouldn’t say he’s out of the woods yet,” Bob now reports, summing up the whole situation as he walks across the infirmary to the trash bin, into which he tosses a wad of used cotton swabs. It’s taken him nearly ten minutes to recap the whole timeline, and now he goes over to the coffee urn and pours himself another few fingers of the muddy stuff. “Put it this way, he’s on the edge of the woods, holding steady.” He turns to Lilly and holds up the coffee cup. “You want a cup o’ joe?”
    Lilly shrugs. “Sure … why not?” She turns to Bruce and Gabe, who stand fidgeting by the door. “I’m not telling you guys what to do … but if it were me, I would go check the wall on the north end.”
    â€œWhat are you, the Queen of Sheba now?” Bruce grumbles.
    â€œWith Martinez gone and the Governor out of commission, those guys have been deserting their posts left and right. We can’t afford to be careless right now.”
    Bruce and Gabe look at each other, each one gauging the other’s reaction to being bossed around by some chick from the suburbs. “She’s got a point,” Gabe says.
    â€œJesus Christ … whatever, ” Bruce grouses under his breath, then turns and storms out the door.
    Gabe follows him out.
    Bob comes over to Lilly and hands her a paper cup of coffee. Lilly notices again how Bob’s hands have stopped shaking. She takes a sip. “Holy crap, this is bad,” she says with a slight cringe.
    â€œIt’s wet and it’s got caffeine in it,” Bob comments as he turns back to his patient. Pulling the spiral-bound notebook from his back pocket, he nudges a chair next to the gurney, sits down, and makes a few notes. “We’re at a critical stage now,” he murmurs while he writes. “Got to keep track of how much Vicodin I’ve given him—not sure if all the drugs have ganged up on him, maybe induced the coma he’s in.”
    Lilly edges her chair closer to the gurney and sits next to the foot of the bed. She can smell the cloying odors of antiseptic and iodine. She stares at the Governor’s untrimmed toenails and pale bare feet—as limp and pallid as dead fish—poking out from under the sheet.
    For a moment, Lilly is stricken with a strange mixture of impressions—crucifixion and sacrificial lambs—which jolts through her with the strength of a lightning bolt. The unexpected emotion tightens her gut and makes her turn away. What kind of person could do this to another person? Who is this lady? Where the hell did she come from? And the deeper concerns banging around the back of Lilly’s mind: If this woman is capable of doing this to a man as dangerous as the Governor, then what is her group capable of doing to Woodbury?
    â€œThe key now is keeping infection away from the door,” Bob is saying, gently palpating the Governor’s neck with a fingertip, keeping track of the man’s pulse.
    â€œBob, tell me the truth,” Lilly says, looking into the older man’s eyes. Bob’s face furrows with bemusement as he meets Lilly’s stare. He puts down his notebook. She speaks softly. “Do you think he’s gonna make it?”
    Bob takes in a deep, thoughtful breath, and then exhales with a sigh. “He’s a tough cuss, this one.” He looks at the Governor’s shrouded face. “If anybody can pull through something like this, he can.”
    Lilly notices Bob’s gnarled left hand is resting gently on the Governor’s shoulder. The unexpected tenderness takes her aback for a moment. She wonders if Bob Stookey has finally found his raison d’être—a channel for all his grief and unrequited love. She wonders if this whole crisis has given Bob a way to stave off the pain of losing Megan. She wonders if this is what Bob always needed—a surrogate son,