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"Relatives? Nearby?" I managed to get out between sobs,"I think my parents were only children and their parents are dead." Ithought for a moment and continued, "I think Dad had an older brother.But I don't know where he lives and never met him. I think maybe hisname is 'Robert' or something like that." The Social Services ladylooked unhappy at that - like, it was my fault that my parents didn'thave any other brothers or sisters? And Ms. Kate kind of shooed her outof the kitchen and told her to call before coming back again.After that the next couple of days were sort of a blur. I slept, andwoke up and ate something, not bothering to get dressed and still in mypajamas, and watched TV, and took a nap, and ate something else, andthen went to bed, and then started the whole cycle over. I wasn'treally thinking about anything - I was sort of in shock - and every sooften I'd think about my parents and realize that they were dead, andI'd start crying again.Just when I was starting to feel. "Ken? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."He felt a hand touching his, a soft, feminine hand. It was squeezing his palm, over and over again, gently but insistently, prompting him to squeeze back. He did not, would not. He wanted to follow his train of thoughts to their conclusion. What had happened to him? Why had Annie been crying? Why had she been telling him to squeeze her hand? It was almost as if she thought he was... dying.That thought brought a flood of memories into his forebrain. Flying a helicopter, a muzzleflash, a pain in his side, his partner (what was her name?) pulling him free from the cockpit. He had been shot! Some maniac had shot him and he had almost crashed! But what had happened after that? What had become of him? All he could sense was the hazy, though powerful image of his wife crying and of being unable to speak to her."Anything?" another voice, this one male, though still with that trashy street accent, inquired."Not yet," the first voice.
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