Samuel fell back against his hospital bed pillow only after he watched the engorged wood tick nephew run from the room with the speed of a trained athlete, accidentally dropping the recording device as he ran, leaving it pointing in the direction of the two injured men who shared both a hospital room and a secret plan. Samuel didn't want to think about the plan. He wanted to think about what might happen were the plan to fail even less. He remained silent, his eyes involuntarily counting the rows of dots in the ceiling tiles until his brain told them that he didn't want to be doing that, as the eyes rested in one place, the dots began to advance toward him like cloned armies, magically recreating themselves until, "Hey Samuel," Victor's voice quietly pulled Samuel's eyes from the mesmerizing advance,"you okay?"
"Yeah Vic, you?" Samuel responded as both men leaned toward each other to get a visual.
"We have to tell Sal about what happened to the others," Victor continued as his eyes darted to the location of the recording device on the floor then returned to Samuel."They really did a number on you, Sam, I don't even think your mother would recognize you,"Leer added, letting Samuel know that the plan was active, the play had begun, the stage had been set and that everything he would do and say from this moment forward had to happen exactly as they had rehearsed or he and Victor would most likely wind up dead.
"They did a number on all of us, man, and I still can't figure out where the Varst they came from," Samuel responded, clearly understanding his role.
"Too bad you scared off the fat little baster, we need to let Sal know what happening right away,"Leer began,"and you'd better leave telling Sal about Max up to me," Victor warned,"Sal's not going to let this go unpunished and if anyone is responsible, it's me."
"But Victor," Samuel quickly replied,"you couldn't have done anything about it, none of us could, and you know just as well as I do that Max could kick the shit outta half the Farb-damn team, how those bastin' shitheads managed to get the best of her, the best of all of us, I'll never know, but I do know it wasn't your fault."
Just then, the door to the hospital room burst open,"what wasn't your fault,Victor?" Sal was standing in the open doorway. He clearly couldn't have been far away, and in fact he wasn't. One of his goons had seen Gus running down the hall, fleeing the room and intercepted him then quickly notified Sal who was occupying himself with one of the attendants, in a previously empty room doing Farb knows what with surgical tubing and a previously full canister of nitrous. "Tell me now, Victor." Sal demanded, looking strangely out of sorts and clearly in no shape to receive the kind of information Leer was about to lay on him.
"Max is dead." Victor said grimly, Leer knew that he had to drop the whole bomb at once or the plan would fail,"and the shipment is gone." Before Sal could say a word Victor added,"everyone was killed, only Sam and I, and a few others survived. And the Farb-damn, Bastin' shitheads who killed her only left us alive to tell you that they want more juice." Leer delivered the line through clenched teeth and knuckles that strained from the pressure of hands that gripped themselves into fists so strongly that the white bone of the knuckles popped out like polished marbles balanced in perfect rows upon blood-red rocks.
Sal looked to the men in the hospital beds with the stunned expression of a man who had just been told that he had only two weeks to live, then burst out laughing.
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