“Deputy Miller,” The lab tech says, “Are you here for an appointment?” She unscrews the green cartridge from the needle in my arm and screws on a blue one.

“No,” says the deputy, his eyes following her fingers. “I was behind this fellow on Highway 2 when he turned in here.” He leans on the wall. “They’ve put out … an APB … for …” he faints, sliding down the wall.

The lab tech lets go of my needle and tries to break his fall, but it’s like trying to hold up a landslide. His head connects with an oxygen tank stored in the corner with a solid bang.

She grabs the wall phone. “Response nurse to lab, building 2.”

“Can’t you do anything right?” I say. “Now you’ve made the wrong person faint.”

“Your results will be ready in two hours,” she says; but she can’t help grinning. She changes the blue cartridge for a yellow one.

“Is there someplace around here where I could get a good sandwich?” I ask.

“Eddie’s Diner, half a mile toward Cooperville.”

“Would you show me where it is?”