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Battle Plans
“How long?” I asked Amy as we walked out of the ER.
“Three to four weeks. I gotta check with my physician first thing tomorrow.”
She let me help her into the car and buckle her seatbelt.
“Shit, Fran! What the fuck’s going on?” she snarled when I got in behind the wheel.
“You ask me?” I reversed out of the slot and drove onto the street. “Why did you ask to come to the Manor so out of the blue? We had breakfast together that morning and you said nothing about it.”
She shook her head, frowning ahead. “I don’t know. When you came back to say goodbye, I just felt this strong impulse to go with you. I don’t question that kind of feeling when I get them, so I just played along.
“Like something inside you knew we would need you here,” I muttered.
My phone rang, because the Haunter Supreme didn’t dig waiting. I handed it to Amy, who
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