The male paramedics burst onto the scene, pushed me aside, assessed the situation, slowed down, fussed about, got a stretcher.
“I’m going with her. I’m her next of kin.”
They shrugged. The caring profession didn’t care.
********
Imogen survived and recovered well, just on time for Sho’or’s next call. These days, she vaguely limps, it’s the only sign.
We found out that Kelly, Taylor’s would-have-been girlfriend, had lost her head. In a bit of a literal way. She was found lying in a pool of blood, her head between her hands, but no longer on her shoulders. The cops are still wondering how it happened exactly. She was halfway buying her freedom.
Sweet Irma, Taylor’s mother, miraculously recovered from her terminal cancer. The doctors are still baffled and she still insists Taylor should move back to the States. Taylor disagrees.
Segur and Rufus are living the happy-ever-after kind of life. Lucky bastards.
Rumour has it that Sho’or’s general is a dyke from New York, with an astounding IQ. Her second in command would be her girlfriend.
I think Sho’or likes us; Me, Imogen, Taylor. He always put us with his general, the general’s hound and the second in command. It’s a definite safety card: the hound will always help us to find our bones.
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