When Quinn McDougall walked into Alex’s hospital room, Alex was sitting propped up by pillows, blankly watching the monitor beside him. His right arm sported a blue cast. An exotic, octopus-like machine made by Beckley Medical was attached to his crushed left leg. A laptop was attached to the machine. Prototype, Quinn thought. “Alex Beckley?” Quinn said, taking Alex’s good left hand and gently squeezing it. “I’m Quinn McDougall. How are you feeling?”
Alex studied his visitor. Quinn had wispy white hair and a ruddy face. A smile played at the corners of Quinn’s mouth. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Better,” Alex said. “The painkillers help.”
Quinn settled into the chair next to Alex’s bed. They talked about the accident and the hospital. ...