Free Voracious by Wrath James White Page B

beats per minute compared to about seventy beats per minute for a normal healthy heart.”
    Anthony rubbed the bandages around his chest and took a deep breath. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. “It feels like thunder.”
    “You’ll get used to it.”
    ***
    Saturday, 6:06 a.m.
    The hunger woke Anthony from a sound sleep. His belly was on fire. His appetite had steadily increased since the surgery. The room was dark and deathly quiet except for the blinking lights and the whir and hum of the monitoring equipment. He groped for the nurse’s call button and rang it.
    The night nurse hadn’t left for the day yet. She walked into the room followed by the day nurse. She did a reasonably good job of masking her annoyance.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m starving! I need something to eat.”
    “We’ll be serving breakfast in a few hours. You just hold tight.”
    “No! I need to eat now!”
    Over the past three days, he’d had countless X-rays and blood tests and been pumped full of anti-rejection medications. Through it all, he could think of nothing but the next meal. Last night, his mother brought him a grilled chicken sandwich from some healthy restaurant downtown and some baked fries. He’d scarfed it down and then begged her for a couple of cheeseburgers.
    “The doctor said you have to keep your weight down or you might put too much strain on your new heart,” his mother said.
    “Do I look like I’m gaining weight?” Anthony asked.
    His mother, a young thirty-eight-year-old who’d given birth to Anthony at the tender age of sixteen, shook her head. Anthony appeared withered and shrunken, even more sickly than he had before receiving the new heart. It was understandable after such an arduous surgery, but he seemed to be getting worse, not better. He was concerned that his body may be rejecting the new heart.
    The bones in Anthony’s face were prominent. It looked like a skull with skin pulled tight around it. Like the face of a mummy. His ribcage protruded through his skin. Before he’d been admitted to the hospital, before the life-saving surgery, he’d been muscular and robust. He had looked very much like the NBA player he’d once dreamt of becoming. Now he was an emaciated shadow of his former self.
    His mother smiled, trying hard to keep up the appearance of optimism, but Anthony could see the concern on her face. He knew he looked like shit.
    “You’re right. I’m sorry. Whatever you like.”
    She’d brought him three cheeseburgers, fries, and a milkshake. He scarfed down the food without tasting it and then fell asleep. The fire in his belly had been temporarily assuaged.
    Now he was awake again, and his mother was nowhere to be found. His appetite had increased exponentially since his last meal. It felt like he hadn’t eaten for weeks.
    Anthony pulled the IV tube from his wrist and pulled off the EKG lead wires. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to stand. “Something’s wrong. I’m starving! I need food!”
    The nurse was young and pretty, though several pounds overweight. Not obese, but pleasantly plump. She had a wide flat ass, huge hips, and large breasts supported by a belly that was only slightly smaller. She wasn’t the type of girl a guy like him would ever call girlfriend, at least not publicly. She was the type of girl you banged on the side because she was more sexually adventurous than your real girlfriend, your showpiece. She was what his friends called a “Moped”-fun to ride, but you wouldn’t want anyone to see you with it.
    She panicked as Anthony pushed his way past her. His elbow brushed against her chest, and Anthony was surprised to find his appetite respond to the contact. He began salivating. He looked at her, drooling.
    She backed up, covering her mouth, looking horrified. “Sir! You need to stay calm. You need to keep your IV in.”
    He was surprised by how strong he felt. Despite his nagging hunger, he didn’t feel weak or dizzy, the way he usually