The Ransom -- part 2
Apr. 25th, 2009 08:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanGonzo had persuaded Stanley to drink about half the pitcherful by the time that the cops had finished taking them through both depositions for errors. He had finished the soup and rice as well, and his color was a little better, but Gonzo was glad when they were finally done and he could steer Stanley out toward the Titanic, which one of the cops had retrieved for him and parked in the station's parking lot. Stanley was trying to walk normally, but he wasn't succeeding very well.
They got to the RV and Stanley leaned gratefully against it while Gonzo dug out his keys. "I never thought I'd be glad to see the Titanic," Stanley admitted, patting the aluminum siding.
Gonzo got the door open. "I keep telling you it's the perfect living balance of living quarters and vehicle," he teased gently. "I never have to drive myself home. Can you manage the step? You look like you're sort of stiff."
"Too much time in the same position," Stanley said, pulling himself up into the living space with a grunt of discomfort. Gonzo followed him inside and shut the door. Stanley had stopped in the living area to lean against the counter, and rub at the small of his back. "Oh, brother, am I sore. I'd give anything for a shower."
"So take one," Gonzo said. "It's not like anyone's expecting us in the next five minutes. And I've got some sweats that would probably fit you."
Stanley sagged a little at the thought. "Clean clothes. I've been wearing these so long I'm surprised anyone can stand to be in the same room with me."
"Hey, we know it's not your fault," Gonzo said, smiling to show that he was teasing. "Go, on, Stanley. Get cleaned up and I'll give you the once over before we drive back to the hospital."
Stanley had started to take off his coat and tie, but now he hesitated. "Do you have to?"
"I never argue with Trapper when he's right," Gonzo said. "Come on, Stan. Would you rather I gave you an exam in ER with half your staff wandering in to make sure you're okay?"
"Well," Stanley said, uncertainly. He folded his coat and put it on a chair, "I guess not. But won't you need the right equipment?"
Gonzo pulled open the cabinet and flourished a zippered pack. "Field kit I use for the marathon," he said, opening it to display the contents. "Stethoscope, otoscope, sphygmomanometer, tongue depressors, lancets and capillary tubes for blood tests and even..." he tossed the covered plastic cup to Stanley, who fumbled, but managed to catch it in the crook of his elbow, "specimen cups. Not to mention bandages, antiseptics and other doctor necessities." He reached into another cupboard and produced a towel. "Now, get in there and scrape off the mold."
Stanley's smile flickered, but he was relieved by Gonzo's take-charge manner and his preparedness. "Yes, doctor." He took the towel and went into the tiny bathroom.
Gonzo tapped on the door. "I'm turning on the engine, but I'm not moving the Titanic. It's just to make sure you don't run out of hot water."
"All right," came Stanley's reply, and Gonzo nodded. He started the engine and then puttered for a few minutes, finding some old sweats that were so stretched out of shape that they might have fit Trapper in a pinch, much less Stan, making up a pitcher of lemonade from the canister in his freezer, and changing the sheets on the bunk, so he would have a clean surface to work on. He kept an ear cocked, but other than a few grunts, Stanley seemed to be managing okay. It was a relief though, when he emerged, with a towel wrapped around himself and his hair dripping water. "I still need a shave," Stanley apologized, "but I just didn't feel steady enough to do it myself."
"You can go to the barber shop in the lobby," Gonzo said, absently, eying the bruises that crisscrossed Stanley's arms, chest, and legs. The ropes had made those probably, although it wasn't a rope that had left the ugly purplish line on Stanley's shoulder, or the round bruise just below his ribs. Stanley's feet were puffy, and a little blotchy after having been in his shoes for so long, and he was standing as if they hurt. "Why don't you sit down on the bed, and have some lemonade while I shut off the motor?" Gonzo said, but he stayed to watch how Stanley moved and sat and noted the bruises on his back. He handed Stan the glass of lemonade, watching for clumsiness, before he went forward and retrieved the key. By the time he got back to Stanley, the glass was almost empty.
"That tastes good," Stanley said.
"Glad you think so," Gonzo said. He let Stanley finish it and then took the glass and started checking Stanley's vitals. "Your pupils are normal," he reported, and pulled out the blood pressure cuff. He announced each finding, knowing that Stanley would want to know. "Blood pressure is 130 over 90 -- just a little high. So is your pulse rate -- 72. You're a little pale, but not bad. Lie down and I'll see if I can find anything wrong."
Stanley leaned back and muttered yeses and noes to Gonzo's "Does this hurt?s" as the surgeon made his examination. When he rolled over, so Gonzo could check his back, Gonzo flinched at the damage that had been hidden by the towel. Two days of sitting in a hard chair had not been kind to Stanley's muscles. "No wonder you've been walking so awkwardly," he said.
"I don't think there're any actual pressure sores," Stanley said in a voice that was muffled by the pillow he'd wrapped his arms around. "The soap didn't sting."
"No, but another few hours and you'd have had them," Gonzo said. "I'd like to take those creeps and give them a dose of their own medicine."
"Not me," Stanley said, sleepily. "I jus' never want to see them again at all."
Gonzo finished his assesment and applied antiseptic whereever Stanley's skin had been rubbed raw, and then made Stanley sit up long enough to pull on the sweats. By that time, Stanley's eyes were spending more time closed than open.
"Look," the surgeon said. "Instead of sitting up front, why don't you lie down here in the back while I drive to the hospital? Give your muscles a chance to stretch out."
"'Sno seat belt," Stanley objected, sinking back onto the pillow.
"I'll drive carefully," Gonzo promised. He pulled out a blanket and tucked it over Stanley.
"'Snice," Stanley murmered. "I never thought it's so soft."
---
It took ten minutes to drive to the hospital, with the traffic at that time of day, and Gonzo gave a happy sigh as he caught sight of the familiar building. "All hail the conquering heroes," he said. "We're here, Stan." There was no response. Gonzo, who hadn't really expected one, glanced back at the next stoplight, and saw that Stanley's chest was moving in the slow pattern of sleep. Gonzo shook his head, half amused, half concerned. He turned back to watch the light and noticed that there was a TV news van turning in to the hospital lot two blocks away. "Damn," Gonzo muttered, and turned the Titanic so that he would come in the hospital from around the side. There were two more TV vans near the emergency entrance -- he could see their extended antennas past the other cars. Gonzo found the back entrance and pulled the Titanic in, looking for a break, and saw Gloria Brancusi sitting over a cup of coffee at one of the outdoor cafeteria tables. He pulled alongside the eating area and tapped on the horn to get her attention. She smiled and came to the driver's window, and he slid it open.
"Is he with you?" she asked. "Is he all right?"
"Yeah." Gonzo grinned his relief, "He's not too bad. Tired and thirsty, but nothing's broken. Climb in and you can see for yourself while I get the Titanic into her space."
"Thanks!" she said, beaming. He waited until he heard he closing the door and then started off again for his own parking space.
"Have you gotten ahold of EJ yet?" he asked as he drove.
"Not yet," Gloria answered. She sat on the edge of the bed and braced herself with one hand while she got a wrist pulse with the other. Stanley shifted position and murmured something, but he didn't wake up. "Hey, Dr. Riverside," she said, not too loudly, "Dr. Riverside."
Gonzo parked and came back to join her. "Don't wake him up, Gloria. This is the first sleep he's gotten since they grabbed him. He's exhausted."
"His pulse is sixty four," she said, automatically, putting his arm back down with a little pat. "He looks exhausted. What kind of people would kidnap somebody and then not let them sleep?"
Gonzo shook his head, still not quite believing it himself. "Remember Pop from the hospital laundry?"
"The old man with the cane? The one who drinks? How could he kidnap anyone?"
"He had help," Gonzo said, tucking the blanket back over Stanley's hands. "His son."
"But," Gloria said, unwilling to believe, "but they wouldn't have really hurt Dr. Riverside, would they?"
Gonzo looked at her distressed eyes and thought of the hiss of the gas. "Yeah. Yeah, they would. They tried to kill both of us, Gloria. And if the cops hadn't come to the rescue, they would have succeeded."
"That's awful," she shivered. "Are you all right? They did get caught, didn't they? They won't try again?"
"Yes, they got caught," Gonzo said, but he was distracted and didn't bother to elaborate. He cracked open the curtain to look out. "Oh brother."
"What is it?" Gloria said, coming to look over his shoulder.
"TV crews," Gonzo said. "If we try to get Stan inside now he'll end up on the six o'clock news."
Gloria looked at the sleeping man and compared his present dishevelment to his usual neat appearance. "He'd hate that," she agreed. "So what do we do?"
Gonzo bestowed his best persuasive grin on her. "Well, I was hoping you could stay with him while I get something rigged. I mean, I don't think anyone knows you're in here, so they won't disturb you. And I don't want to leave Stanley by himself in case he wakes up."
"It's been pretty slow," she said, smiling her consent. "But you'll have to let Ernie know where I am."
"First thing," Gonzo promised. "I'll be back before you know it."
---
Trapper was in Emergency -- again. He wasn't even bothering to make an excuse this time, and Ernie handed him one of the last oatmeal cookies with a sympathetic smile. "They can't take much longer, Trapper. And you know Gonzo would call if there were anything to worry about."
"I know he said that Stan's all right," Trapper said, "But I'd feel better if I could just see him for myself."
Ernie nodded. "I know what you mean. It's funny; I was irritated with him on Friday and I let it show, and Stanley went off in a huff, you know the way he does, but I never thought about whether or not he would forgive and forget. I just thought that it must be nice to be so rich you didn't have to worry."
Trapper rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not about the usual things, anyway."
A commotion at the entrance interrupted them. It was Gonzo, backing away from a pair of cameras, with a cardboard box in his hands. "Look," the young surgeon said. "I told you, I left him at a friend's place, and he's not in any shape for an interview tonight. Haven't you got any stock footage from all the blood drives we've done?"
"Is it true the police have charged the kidnappers with attempted murder?" one of the reporters asked.
"That's what they told me," Gonzo said. "Now if you'll just excuse me..."
Ernie and Trapper looked at each other and went to the rescue.
"Dr. Gates," Trapper said, waving a chart he had grabbed at random. "I need to get your opinion on a patient."
"Gentlemen, please," Ernie said in her clearest nurse-in-charge voice, "this is the Ambulance Entrance, it is absolutely vital that it not be blocked."
The reporters shifted nervously, and one in the back tried to regain momentum. "Dr. McIntyre, Dr. McIntyre, what do you think of the Riverside kidnapping."
"I'm glad it's over," Trapper said, glaring over the top of his glasses. "But if you want details, you'll have to talk to Mr. Slocum. The police spoke to him, not me."
"Fifth floor, on the right," Ernie said, sending Arnold a mental apology, as she pointed to the elevator bank. "Now if you would please clear my corridor?"
The wolves hesitate, but then went in the direction of fresh meat, and Gonzo leaned against the wall and dragged his arm across his forehead with a dramatic sigh. "Whew! Thanks, guys."
"You're welcome," Trapper said, steering the pair of them toward Stanley's office and some privacy. "In here. Barbara," he called to the nurse on the desk, "If the other Dr. Riverside calls..."
"I'll reroute it," she promised.
"Wait," Gonzo said. He put the cardboard box on the counter. "Send these to the lab and ask for a CBC, a blood sugar, and a urinalysis. Stat. And let me know the results as they get them." He turned and went to join Trapper and Ernie in Stanley's office. As soon as they got in the door he asked, "Hasn't EJ called yet?"
"Not yet," Ernie said, taking the seat at the desk. "But the last workshop was supposed to end at five, and it's five-thirty in Chicago now, so I'm expecting a call soon."
"That's good." Gonzo dropped into one of the chairs. "Stanley tried to call her from the police station, but she wasn't in the hotel so he had to just leave a message."
"Where is Stanley?" Trapper growled. "You didn't really leave him at 'a friends', did you?"
"Relax, Trap. He's asleep in the Titanic. And Gloria's keeping an eye on him while I figure out how to sneak him in past all the reporters."
"Asleep?" Trapper repeated, tugging at his beard and frowning.
"Yeah. Once he got horizontal, he went out like a light. He's pretty tired."
"Is he all right?" Ernie asked.
Gonzo waggled a hand. "Mostly. They didn't beat him up much, at least not physically. But they didn't exactly take good care of him, either. From what he said, they kept him tied up in the same chair for the whole time, and didn't bother to give him any food or water. And they didn't let him sleep. One of them was always watching, or telling him how much they hated anyone named Riverside." Gonzo shook his head, remembering how frightened Stanley had been when the kidnappers had tried to kill them. "He's thirsty, and hungry, and just plain exhausted, but I think that's the worst of it."
Trapper didn't look happy. "You weren't here the last time Stan got really exhausted," he said. "He was really strung out. Should I give David Sandler a call?"
Gonzo shrugged. "I don't know, Trapper. Stanley's shook up, but he's trying awfully hard not to give in to it. You know he gets when he's acting some way because he thinks that's how he's supposed to act?"
Trapper nodded.
"Like that. Like he's not supposed to let a little thing like being kidnapped keep him down. I think David won't get any honest answers out of him until he's gotten some sleep and a hug from EJ."
The phone rang, and Ernie picked up. "Dr. Riverside's office, Ernestine Shoop speaking. Oh, hello, EJ."
"Speak of the devil," Trapper said, and Ernie waved him to silence.
"I'm glad you called," she said.
---
They got to the RV and Stanley leaned gratefully against it while Gonzo dug out his keys. "I never thought I'd be glad to see the Titanic," Stanley admitted, patting the aluminum siding.
Gonzo got the door open. "I keep telling you it's the perfect living balance of living quarters and vehicle," he teased gently. "I never have to drive myself home. Can you manage the step? You look like you're sort of stiff."
"Too much time in the same position," Stanley said, pulling himself up into the living space with a grunt of discomfort. Gonzo followed him inside and shut the door. Stanley had stopped in the living area to lean against the counter, and rub at the small of his back. "Oh, brother, am I sore. I'd give anything for a shower."
"So take one," Gonzo said. "It's not like anyone's expecting us in the next five minutes. And I've got some sweats that would probably fit you."
Stanley sagged a little at the thought. "Clean clothes. I've been wearing these so long I'm surprised anyone can stand to be in the same room with me."
"Hey, we know it's not your fault," Gonzo said, smiling to show that he was teasing. "Go, on, Stanley. Get cleaned up and I'll give you the once over before we drive back to the hospital."
Stanley had started to take off his coat and tie, but now he hesitated. "Do you have to?"
"I never argue with Trapper when he's right," Gonzo said. "Come on, Stan. Would you rather I gave you an exam in ER with half your staff wandering in to make sure you're okay?"
"Well," Stanley said, uncertainly. He folded his coat and put it on a chair, "I guess not. But won't you need the right equipment?"
Gonzo pulled open the cabinet and flourished a zippered pack. "Field kit I use for the marathon," he said, opening it to display the contents. "Stethoscope, otoscope, sphygmomanometer, tongue depressors, lancets and capillary tubes for blood tests and even..." he tossed the covered plastic cup to Stanley, who fumbled, but managed to catch it in the crook of his elbow, "specimen cups. Not to mention bandages, antiseptics and other doctor necessities." He reached into another cupboard and produced a towel. "Now, get in there and scrape off the mold."
Stanley's smile flickered, but he was relieved by Gonzo's take-charge manner and his preparedness. "Yes, doctor." He took the towel and went into the tiny bathroom.
Gonzo tapped on the door. "I'm turning on the engine, but I'm not moving the Titanic. It's just to make sure you don't run out of hot water."
"All right," came Stanley's reply, and Gonzo nodded. He started the engine and then puttered for a few minutes, finding some old sweats that were so stretched out of shape that they might have fit Trapper in a pinch, much less Stan, making up a pitcher of lemonade from the canister in his freezer, and changing the sheets on the bunk, so he would have a clean surface to work on. He kept an ear cocked, but other than a few grunts, Stanley seemed to be managing okay. It was a relief though, when he emerged, with a towel wrapped around himself and his hair dripping water. "I still need a shave," Stanley apologized, "but I just didn't feel steady enough to do it myself."
"You can go to the barber shop in the lobby," Gonzo said, absently, eying the bruises that crisscrossed Stanley's arms, chest, and legs. The ropes had made those probably, although it wasn't a rope that had left the ugly purplish line on Stanley's shoulder, or the round bruise just below his ribs. Stanley's feet were puffy, and a little blotchy after having been in his shoes for so long, and he was standing as if they hurt. "Why don't you sit down on the bed, and have some lemonade while I shut off the motor?" Gonzo said, but he stayed to watch how Stanley moved and sat and noted the bruises on his back. He handed Stan the glass of lemonade, watching for clumsiness, before he went forward and retrieved the key. By the time he got back to Stanley, the glass was almost empty.
"That tastes good," Stanley said.
"Glad you think so," Gonzo said. He let Stanley finish it and then took the glass and started checking Stanley's vitals. "Your pupils are normal," he reported, and pulled out the blood pressure cuff. He announced each finding, knowing that Stanley would want to know. "Blood pressure is 130 over 90 -- just a little high. So is your pulse rate -- 72. You're a little pale, but not bad. Lie down and I'll see if I can find anything wrong."
Stanley leaned back and muttered yeses and noes to Gonzo's "Does this hurt?s" as the surgeon made his examination. When he rolled over, so Gonzo could check his back, Gonzo flinched at the damage that had been hidden by the towel. Two days of sitting in a hard chair had not been kind to Stanley's muscles. "No wonder you've been walking so awkwardly," he said.
"I don't think there're any actual pressure sores," Stanley said in a voice that was muffled by the pillow he'd wrapped his arms around. "The soap didn't sting."
"No, but another few hours and you'd have had them," Gonzo said. "I'd like to take those creeps and give them a dose of their own medicine."
"Not me," Stanley said, sleepily. "I jus' never want to see them again at all."
Gonzo finished his assesment and applied antiseptic whereever Stanley's skin had been rubbed raw, and then made Stanley sit up long enough to pull on the sweats. By that time, Stanley's eyes were spending more time closed than open.
"Look," the surgeon said. "Instead of sitting up front, why don't you lie down here in the back while I drive to the hospital? Give your muscles a chance to stretch out."
"'Sno seat belt," Stanley objected, sinking back onto the pillow.
"I'll drive carefully," Gonzo promised. He pulled out a blanket and tucked it over Stanley.
"'Snice," Stanley murmered. "I never thought it's so soft."
---
It took ten minutes to drive to the hospital, with the traffic at that time of day, and Gonzo gave a happy sigh as he caught sight of the familiar building. "All hail the conquering heroes," he said. "We're here, Stan." There was no response. Gonzo, who hadn't really expected one, glanced back at the next stoplight, and saw that Stanley's chest was moving in the slow pattern of sleep. Gonzo shook his head, half amused, half concerned. He turned back to watch the light and noticed that there was a TV news van turning in to the hospital lot two blocks away. "Damn," Gonzo muttered, and turned the Titanic so that he would come in the hospital from around the side. There were two more TV vans near the emergency entrance -- he could see their extended antennas past the other cars. Gonzo found the back entrance and pulled the Titanic in, looking for a break, and saw Gloria Brancusi sitting over a cup of coffee at one of the outdoor cafeteria tables. He pulled alongside the eating area and tapped on the horn to get her attention. She smiled and came to the driver's window, and he slid it open.
"Is he with you?" she asked. "Is he all right?"
"Yeah." Gonzo grinned his relief, "He's not too bad. Tired and thirsty, but nothing's broken. Climb in and you can see for yourself while I get the Titanic into her space."
"Thanks!" she said, beaming. He waited until he heard he closing the door and then started off again for his own parking space.
"Have you gotten ahold of EJ yet?" he asked as he drove.
"Not yet," Gloria answered. She sat on the edge of the bed and braced herself with one hand while she got a wrist pulse with the other. Stanley shifted position and murmured something, but he didn't wake up. "Hey, Dr. Riverside," she said, not too loudly, "Dr. Riverside."
Gonzo parked and came back to join her. "Don't wake him up, Gloria. This is the first sleep he's gotten since they grabbed him. He's exhausted."
"His pulse is sixty four," she said, automatically, putting his arm back down with a little pat. "He looks exhausted. What kind of people would kidnap somebody and then not let them sleep?"
Gonzo shook his head, still not quite believing it himself. "Remember Pop from the hospital laundry?"
"The old man with the cane? The one who drinks? How could he kidnap anyone?"
"He had help," Gonzo said, tucking the blanket back over Stanley's hands. "His son."
"But," Gloria said, unwilling to believe, "but they wouldn't have really hurt Dr. Riverside, would they?"
Gonzo looked at her distressed eyes and thought of the hiss of the gas. "Yeah. Yeah, they would. They tried to kill both of us, Gloria. And if the cops hadn't come to the rescue, they would have succeeded."
"That's awful," she shivered. "Are you all right? They did get caught, didn't they? They won't try again?"
"Yes, they got caught," Gonzo said, but he was distracted and didn't bother to elaborate. He cracked open the curtain to look out. "Oh brother."
"What is it?" Gloria said, coming to look over his shoulder.
"TV crews," Gonzo said. "If we try to get Stan inside now he'll end up on the six o'clock news."
Gloria looked at the sleeping man and compared his present dishevelment to his usual neat appearance. "He'd hate that," she agreed. "So what do we do?"
Gonzo bestowed his best persuasive grin on her. "Well, I was hoping you could stay with him while I get something rigged. I mean, I don't think anyone knows you're in here, so they won't disturb you. And I don't want to leave Stanley by himself in case he wakes up."
"It's been pretty slow," she said, smiling her consent. "But you'll have to let Ernie know where I am."
"First thing," Gonzo promised. "I'll be back before you know it."
---
Trapper was in Emergency -- again. He wasn't even bothering to make an excuse this time, and Ernie handed him one of the last oatmeal cookies with a sympathetic smile. "They can't take much longer, Trapper. And you know Gonzo would call if there were anything to worry about."
"I know he said that Stan's all right," Trapper said, "But I'd feel better if I could just see him for myself."
Ernie nodded. "I know what you mean. It's funny; I was irritated with him on Friday and I let it show, and Stanley went off in a huff, you know the way he does, but I never thought about whether or not he would forgive and forget. I just thought that it must be nice to be so rich you didn't have to worry."
Trapper rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not about the usual things, anyway."
A commotion at the entrance interrupted them. It was Gonzo, backing away from a pair of cameras, with a cardboard box in his hands. "Look," the young surgeon said. "I told you, I left him at a friend's place, and he's not in any shape for an interview tonight. Haven't you got any stock footage from all the blood drives we've done?"
"Is it true the police have charged the kidnappers with attempted murder?" one of the reporters asked.
"That's what they told me," Gonzo said. "Now if you'll just excuse me..."
Ernie and Trapper looked at each other and went to the rescue.
"Dr. Gates," Trapper said, waving a chart he had grabbed at random. "I need to get your opinion on a patient."
"Gentlemen, please," Ernie said in her clearest nurse-in-charge voice, "this is the Ambulance Entrance, it is absolutely vital that it not be blocked."
The reporters shifted nervously, and one in the back tried to regain momentum. "Dr. McIntyre, Dr. McIntyre, what do you think of the Riverside kidnapping."
"I'm glad it's over," Trapper said, glaring over the top of his glasses. "But if you want details, you'll have to talk to Mr. Slocum. The police spoke to him, not me."
"Fifth floor, on the right," Ernie said, sending Arnold a mental apology, as she pointed to the elevator bank. "Now if you would please clear my corridor?"
The wolves hesitate, but then went in the direction of fresh meat, and Gonzo leaned against the wall and dragged his arm across his forehead with a dramatic sigh. "Whew! Thanks, guys."
"You're welcome," Trapper said, steering the pair of them toward Stanley's office and some privacy. "In here. Barbara," he called to the nurse on the desk, "If the other Dr. Riverside calls..."
"I'll reroute it," she promised.
"Wait," Gonzo said. He put the cardboard box on the counter. "Send these to the lab and ask for a CBC, a blood sugar, and a urinalysis. Stat. And let me know the results as they get them." He turned and went to join Trapper and Ernie in Stanley's office. As soon as they got in the door he asked, "Hasn't EJ called yet?"
"Not yet," Ernie said, taking the seat at the desk. "But the last workshop was supposed to end at five, and it's five-thirty in Chicago now, so I'm expecting a call soon."
"That's good." Gonzo dropped into one of the chairs. "Stanley tried to call her from the police station, but she wasn't in the hotel so he had to just leave a message."
"Where is Stanley?" Trapper growled. "You didn't really leave him at 'a friends', did you?"
"Relax, Trap. He's asleep in the Titanic. And Gloria's keeping an eye on him while I figure out how to sneak him in past all the reporters."
"Asleep?" Trapper repeated, tugging at his beard and frowning.
"Yeah. Once he got horizontal, he went out like a light. He's pretty tired."
"Is he all right?" Ernie asked.
Gonzo waggled a hand. "Mostly. They didn't beat him up much, at least not physically. But they didn't exactly take good care of him, either. From what he said, they kept him tied up in the same chair for the whole time, and didn't bother to give him any food or water. And they didn't let him sleep. One of them was always watching, or telling him how much they hated anyone named Riverside." Gonzo shook his head, remembering how frightened Stanley had been when the kidnappers had tried to kill them. "He's thirsty, and hungry, and just plain exhausted, but I think that's the worst of it."
Trapper didn't look happy. "You weren't here the last time Stan got really exhausted," he said. "He was really strung out. Should I give David Sandler a call?"
Gonzo shrugged. "I don't know, Trapper. Stanley's shook up, but he's trying awfully hard not to give in to it. You know he gets when he's acting some way because he thinks that's how he's supposed to act?"
Trapper nodded.
"Like that. Like he's not supposed to let a little thing like being kidnapped keep him down. I think David won't get any honest answers out of him until he's gotten some sleep and a hug from EJ."
The phone rang, and Ernie picked up. "Dr. Riverside's office, Ernestine Shoop speaking. Oh, hello, EJ."
"Speak of the devil," Trapper said, and Ernie waved him to silence.
"I'm glad you called," she said.
---
