White Space Season 1

carrying with her the welcome sight of his good friend Jon.
    “Jesus, you look like hell,” Jon said, smiling.
    Houser was about to jokingly tell Jon to fuck off, but remembered the little girl … Emma, that’s her name! … standing at Jon’s side. “Nice to see you, too,” he said. “What happened? Where am I?”
    His upper body — his ribs, his head, his left shoulder — all ached as if he’d taken a roll in a giant dryer with bags of rocks.
    “You’re at Conway Medical Center,” Jon’s mouth twitched. “And you’ve been in a car accident.”
    “A car accident? I don’t remember … ” Houser trailed off, losing his train of thought for a moment as he tried to think back to the last thing he could remember. Everything was a confusing haze.
    “Yeah,” Jon nodded. “A couple out hiking found you in your car. You apparently drove off the road and down a steep incline before crashing into a tree, hard. The couple called for help.”
    “Jesus, I don’t remember any of that,” Houser said, rubbing his temples, frustrated.
    “What do you remember?”
    Houser had to think for a moment, sorting through flashes of memory.
    “I remember us talking at the bar. And you drinking enough to knock most men out cold for a week. Fu … freaking irony that I’m the one who crashed into a tree.” He half-smiled at Jon, then said, “I remember going to see Mrs… . um … Mrs. Heller.”
    Houser wanted to continue, but that’s when things got fuzzy again. He couldn’t even be certain if he’d made it to Heller’s house or not.
    “How long have I been here?”
    “Three days. It’s Tuesday night. You were in bad shape, a fair bit of internal bleeding. And …”
    “What?” Houser asked, hating the look on Hollywood’s face.
    Jon turned to Cassidy, who had just entered the room and was standing close behind him. He winked as he said, “Can you and Emma get me something to eat?”
    “Sure thing,” she said. “Come on, Emma. Let’s go see if we can find something yummy.”
    Emma pulled Cassidy from the room, leaving Houser alone with Jon.
    “What is it, man?” Houser said, searching Jon’s face for some sign of good news. There wasn’t any.
    Jon said, “They couldn’t save your leg.”
    “What?” Houser said, confused and trying to sit, but trying too fast. His body was stiff, aching, and entirely uncooperative.
    Jon helped him, pushing him up against the pillows then peeling the sheet and blanket back from to reveal a bandaged stump, ending at Houser’s right knee.
    Houser stared down in disbelief.
    Oh Jesus. My leg.
    He reached down and touched the bandaged stump.
    “I can’t feel anything,” he said.
    Jon’s eyes were heavy. “I’m sure that’s just temporary, man.”
    “How … how did this happen?”
    “Like I said, you were hurt pretty badly. They weren’t even sure you were gonna make it.”
    The door opened and a young man in a blue shirt and yellow tie entered the room. He was tall and handsome, with the trademark swagger Houser immediately identified as belonging to a surgeon.
    “This is Dr. Mark Thompson,” Jon said.
    “Hello, Mr. Houser,” Thompson smiled, and extended his hand.
    Houser shook his hand.
    “I’m the surgeon who operated on you, and I’m here to answer any questions you have. First off, how are you feeling?”
    “Groggy. And I can’t remember a thing about what happened.”
    “That’s normal.” Thompson looked at his clipboard, then back at Houser. “How about your pain? On a level of one to 10 with 10 being the worst pain of your life. How are you feeling?”
    “I dunno, a five?”
    “OK,” Thompson nodded. “We have a morphine drip going into you every hour. If you need more, don’t be shy. Just press the button on the side of your bed and it will be given to you. If the button’s not working, press this one here to call for a nurse.” Thompson gestured toward a second button on a console on the bed rail to his left.
    “What happened to me, Doc?”
    Thompson went over the details, much as Jon had, now sprinkled with a handful of medical terms, many Houser recognized from his years working insurance cases.
    “You’re kind of lucky you lost your leg here,” Thompson said.
    “Lucky?” Houser asked. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. Oh wait. No, I wasn’t.”
    Thompson smiled. “What I mean to say is that Conway Medical is the best place you could have wound up because of our limb replacement technology. We’ll