Push hard, he told himself.
‘Don’t you bloody well dare!’ he hissed from between gritted teeth.
Saw the first nurse on the scene draw back, thinking the words were meant for her.
Blood rushing through Rebus’s ears, almost deafening him. No cold, cleansed death for you, he was thinking.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
After all we’ve been through . . . can’t end with a couple of whacks from Todd Goodyear . . .
One, two, three. One, two, three.
There should be mess... and fuss ... and blood.
One, two, three.
‘John?’
One, two, three.
‘John?’ Siobhan’s voice seemed to be coming to him from some far-distant place. ‘That’s enough now. You can let go now.’
The machines were making noises. Sweat in his eyes and the hissing in his ears - couldn’t tell if they were good news or not. In the end, it took two doctors, an attendant and a nurse to drag him off the bed.
‘Is he going to be all right?’ he heard himself ask. ‘Tell me he’s going to be all right . . .’
Ian Rankin, Exit Music
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