Blind Obedience

    Jack Princeton lay in his hospital bed, watching the early afternoon shadows play across his drawn curtains.  His mind kept going back to the events of the pre-dawn, and the flash of the steel blade as it lunged toward his throat.  He had actually felt no pain, just the warm rush of blood as the wound opened up, and the coldness of that same blood as it drenched his shirt.  The next several seconds were a blur of shouts and gunfire, and after seeing unfamiliar faces floating in front of his, he lost consciousness.  When he awoke, he was in this bed, his neck bandaged, and his arm connected to tubes and wires.  He knew from his dull sensations, that he was under sedation, and as he again saw the knife lunge toward him, he was thankful for that.
    A gentle rapping on his partially closed door caused him to slowly turn his head.  He smiled with his eyes at the sight of Sergeant Olive and another police officer.  Her's had been one of the faces he had seen, a face seemingly floating above him, a face in control.  The sudden chain of events had shocked her, but her calm demeanor had taken hold, and he felt certain that he owed his life to her.  The smile in his eyes was genuine.
    She walked over and took hold of his hand, squeezing it gently.
    "Hey Jack, you don't look too bad, considering."
    He returned her squeeze.
    "The doctor said we could have five minutes.  I want to bring you up to date, if you feel like it, okay?"
    He squeezed again.
    She smiled.  "First of all, the killer is dead.  He tripped on a toy kaleidscope and fell down the stairs.  He broke his neck...and died instantly."
    Jack closed his eyes, and Sergeant Olive thought she saw tears form at the corners of them.
    "So far, we haven't been able to determine his identity, and now the Feds have taken jurisdiction of the scene and the body.  He killed two elderly people across the street from where we got him, and seriously wounded Bill Bonnet with his knife...after he cut you.  Bill got out of surgery around 7:30, and will be okay, eventually...just like you will be."
    This time she squeezed his hand.
    "This guy didn't leave many clues, Jack, but we did find a small case of his.  He had an assortment of knives and pliers and things, and I'm sure something will match up with the killings in Alabama.  Your partner and chief are due in after while, and I'm sure you'll be able to go back home in a day or two.
    "The Chastains are fine, and will be staying where they are for a few more days.  When the Feds get through, I guess things will return to normal...well, as much as they can.  We just thought you'd like to know."
    She squeezed his hand again.  Jack looked from her to the other officer, and though they locked eyes only briefly, he could see something in those eyes...something perhaps, that Grace Olive wasn't telling him.  He quickly looked bck at Sergeant Olive.
    "Oh...by the way, you might be interested in this.  The guy's left leg was gone below the knee.  He wore a prosthesis...for what that's worth."
    Jack watched as the two officers left his room.  It seemed that the apprehension and death of Miss America had created as many questions as it had answered.  He slowly turned his head away from the door and stared back at the windows.  It didn't matter anymore, anyway.  The threat to Etta and her family was over, and with time, all of this would be put behind them.
    He thought of Etta and wondered where she was.  Did she know what had happened?  His eyelids grew heavy and the essence of her, somehow, overpowered his senses.  He would swear later, that he could smell her perfume as he drifted off, and although it hurt tremendously, a weak smile formed on his face.