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"Yeah, but he fell three stories . . . " |
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"Please," a new voice interceded. It was raspy and somehow seemed familiar to Charlie. "Let me handle this." |
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"You know this guy?" someone in the background questioned. |
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"Yes," the man said patiently, "and I know what happened here." |
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Charlie opened his eyes again. The ring of faces was little more than masks and heads silhouetted against the morning sun. He squinted into the unforgiving glare. The stoic face of Raymond Armond was staring passively down at him. |
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It was time to try. Charlie began to groggily work his way up, first propping his weight on his elbows, then managing to get into a sitting position. The onlookers, no longer curious about the outcome and apparently dismayed that he was going to live, began to wander off. |
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"It is all right to get up, Mr. Frazier. You are not injured," Raymond informed him. |
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Charlie looked at the gaunt old man. "How the hell would you know? You aren't the one that fell." |
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The old man bent over and extended his hand. "I will assist you." |
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The first attempt was still somewhat wobbly, but on the second, Charlie managed to regain his equilibrium. The old man's surprisingly long fingers locked around his upper |
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