Luckily, morning came with not so much as a strange noise or suspicious vehicle to play on her imagination. She let him sleep in. No doctor’s office would be open before seven at the earliest—with most closer to nine—and he would need to take everything slow, anyway. Emergency Rooms would ask too many questions, she thought, as she prepared another meal on his behalf and scored some beef jerky, ruffled chips, and a slightly over-ripe orange for herself. A free clinic might be a plausible option, but in a city like this? The lines would be long. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to scour the internet or find a phone book in order to make an appointment with a general practitioner.
She went with the number she located on a magnet, which hung on the refrigerator door.