I was dizzy, but after a while it subsided and I got up, gripping the rail at the head of the bed, and I took my frst step.

Okay. My legs held me.

So, theoretically, I was in good enough shape to walk out.

I made it back to the bed, stretched out and thought. I was sweating and shaking. Visions of sugar plums, etc.

In the State of Denmark there was the odor of decay...

It had been an accident involving an auto, I recalled. One helluva one...

Then the door opened, letting in light, and through slits beneath my eyelashes I saw a nurse with a hypo in her hand.

She approached my bedside, a hippy broad with dark hair and big arms.

Just as she neared, I sat up.

“Good evening,” I said.

“Why-good evening,” she replied.

“When do I check out?” I asked.

“I'll have to ask Doctor.”

“Do so,” I said.

“Please roll up your sleeve.”

“No thanks.”

“I have to give you an injection”

“No you don't. I don't need it”

“I'm afraid that's for Doctor to say.”

“Then send him around and let him say it. But in the meantime, I will not permit it.”

“I'm afraid I have my orders.”

“So did Eichmann, and look what happened to him,” and I shook my head slowly.

“Very well,” she said. “I'll have to report this...

“Please do,” I said, “and while you're at it, tell him I've decided to check out in the morning.”

“That's impossible. You can't even walk—and there were internal injuries...”

“We'll see,” said I. “Good night”

She swished out of sight without answering.

So I lay there and mulled. It seemed I was in some sort of private place—so somebody was footing the bill. Whom did I know? No visions of relatives appeared behind my eyes. Friends either. What did that leave? Enemies?