“Gran, where are we?” Seven muttered.
“We’re in Germany, son, you had an accident and you’re in the hospital,” she relayed in her direct manner of speaking.
“The Colonel?” he asked.
“He’s at home, son, he has been sick lately and couldn’t make the trip,” she said.
Seven gazed around the hospital room, trying to gain some type of bearing and recognition of his surroundings and current state. After a few minutes of searching for answers, he closed his eyes and faded back into the darkness.
There were periods of consciousness that extended into the following week. Each time he awoke Seven was more alert and aware of his environment and he slowly processed the information as to how he came to be there without his right leg. The last memory he had of the crash was seeing Al’s lifeless body bouncing forward and back in the seat next to him.
Gran remained in Germany for a week until she was assured that her grandson was healing properly. She failed to tell Seven that his grandfather was also hospitalized; she only mentioned that he was not feeling well. Upon her return to Georgia, she found herself once again sitting in a hospital, only this time the subject she was visiting failed to open his eyes and acknowledge her presence.
Seven was sent to Shands Hospital in Gainesville, Florida. The facility is known as a top-class training hospital for the University of Florida. Seven arrived in mid-July to begin his rehabilitation program and be fitted for a prosthetic right leg. Upon his arrival at the hospital, he found a familiar unkempt bearded man waiting for him in his room.
“Seven, how are you doing?” Harris said while trying to project a smile under his bushy facial hair.