Free The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2) by Anna Zaires, Dima Zales Page A

though, and the feeling I now have is like being carsick, only ten times worse.
    “You got shot,” Mira says gently. “Is there anyone I should call for you? Friends or family?”
    There is care and concern in her voice. She sounds like she’s actually worried about me and wants to help. She doesn’t sound like the girl who was just about to shoot me herself not so long ago. The headache intensifies further when I try to think about this, so I stop. The idea of calling someone makes some sense, though.
    “In my phone. Sara and Lucy are my family. Bert is my friend,” I say, trying to reach for my pocket. Moving sends waves of nausea through my body. Am I dying? I wonder if that would end the pain.
    “I got it,” she says, putting one of her hands on mine and reaching into my pocket with her other hand.
    Usually, I would have dirty thoughts in a situation like this—having Mira dig through my jeans this way—but I guess getting shot takes its toll. I feel like I might actually puke if the ambulance keeps on shaking the way it does, and I want Mira as far away from me as possible if that happens.
    I take a few deep breaths and decide that maybe I woke up too soon. I think I need to rest for a few more minutes.
    “What hospital are we going to?” Mira asks the paramedic as my thoughts grow progressively cloudier.
    “Coney Island,” I hear him respond as though in a dream, and then my mind goes blank again.
     
    * * *
     
    I wake up again. This time I know that I’m not in my own bed. I remember being shot. I also remember feeling sick in the ambulance, and I’m relieved that I’m feeling somewhat better. I even recall talking to someone. The reason for my feeling better is on the tip of my tongue, but it escapes me.
    “When is the doctor going to see him again?” It’s Mira’s voice. “All he did was give him something for the pain.”
    Ah, that explains it. I recall telling someone I was in terrible pain. Or did I say something else? It’s still a bit blurry, and the weightless feeling running through my body is not conducive to recall.
    There’s a trick I learned at the dentist’s office. When a dentist asks me if I feel something during a procedure, I say that I do until I can’t feel my face from all the Novocain. I must’ve automatically used this same technique when I spoke to the doctor in my woozy state, and he must’ve believed me and given me something pretty strong for the pain.
    “The doctor will see him again after he gets the X-ray,” says a different female voice. A nurse, I’m guessing.
    “Okay, then when is he going for that X-ray?” Mira’s voice rises. “Why is this taking so long?”
    “Please calm down, miss. We’re doing the best we can,” says the nurse in a rehearsed monotone. “We have a lot of patients today and are very understaffed.”
    They have a back and forth, but I ignore it. Instead, I try to examine this feeling I’m experiencing from whatever is making me feel better. It’s like a warm flow through my whole body. Like I’m hovering and floating in a warm bath at the same time.
    Whatever they gave me for the pain must be really beginning to kick in.
    “That bullet was meant for me,” Eugene says after the person Mira was bugging about my care is gone.
    “Yes. I hate to say it, but I told you so.” Mira sounds angry. “When will you develop a sense of self-preservation?”
    “You’re right, of course,” Eugene says morosely. “We should’ve slept at a hotel. I didn’t think they would come after me again. Not this soon. I didn’t even think the ones involved in your kidnapping bothered to share our address with anyone else—”
    “Oh, spare me all the bullshit.” Mira’s tone is scathing. “I heard it yesterday, and now Darren is hurt because I listened to you. You just wanted to be near your precious equipment, as usual. That’s all you think about.”
    With the nice feelings spreading though my body, I have a hard time following the