Wires, by JACmRob

Chapter 2


Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

It had been two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Casey kept her eyes fixed on the clock, as if wishing it to expose some great revelation. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes since the ambulance had come screeching in and an unconscious Derek had been wheeled into the O.R. They still hadn't received word of his condition.

Casey anxiously tapped her hand against the arm of the synthetic waiting-room chair she was sitting in. On either side of her, the rest of the family was poised. They had barely said any words to each other in the two hours and twenty-seven—no—twenty eight minutes they'd been waiting. The quiet was suffocating. Tap, tap, tap. Her mother was holding George's hand. Edwin's eyes were darting about the room uneasily. Marti was curled up in her chair, Lizzie's arm around her. Tap, tap, tap.

A million thoughts raced through Casey's head. A million worse-case scenarios. What if he bled out? What if he was in a coma? What if he was brain-dead from head-trauma? Tap, tap, tap.

Or, what if they discovered some awful underlying cause—like a brain tumor? Or a blood clot? Or a genetic disease? Tap, tap, tap.

What if he had cancer and only a day to live? What if he died in surgery anyway? Damn my psyche, she thought. I've just given Derek an incurable disease.

And all this time he thought she hated him. He could die, and all he'd every think of her was that she was an aggressive bitch. What was the last thing she'd said to him? She scanned her mind, and her heart stopped cold.

"Going to wish me luck, Space-Case?" He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Casey looked up from her book. Their eyes met, and her heart sped uncharacteristically. Stop it! She told herself crossly. Trying to ignore the red blooming in her cheeks she said,

"Why, do you need it?" Damn! That was the best she could come up with? Why the hell was she getting tongue-tied all of a sudden?

"Well I don't," he replied smoothly, "but you might. Remember last game, when you fell down the bleachers?"

Now she was definitely blushing.

"Well hopefully you won't get too dizzy trying to remember your right from left," she retorted coolly, closing the door in his face.

'Hopefully you won't get too dizzy trying to remember your right from left?' Would those really be the last words she spoke to him? She hated herself. Why did she argue so much with him? Maybe so that he'd at least acknowledge her. But looking back, it didn't sound witty or playful. It just sounded mean.

Besides her, her mother was trying to distract herself by flipping through a magazine. Two-hours and thirty-three minutes. Tap, tap, tap.

Tick.

Tick.

Just when Casey thought she couldn't stand the screaming silence any longer, a doctor in blue scrubs and a surgical mask pushed through the door. George immediately leapt to his feet, with Mom right behind him. She stood. Please be good news, please be good news, she thought fervently.

She watched the medic speaking softly to George, and saw him nod grimly. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder for a minute, before turning and exiting back through the OR doors. They swished ominously.

George turned to Casey, Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti. When he spoke, his voice was steady but she could hear the grief in it.

"They've managed to stem the hemorrhaging in his brain, but they still haven't found the cause of the bleed."

"Is Smerek going to be okay?" Marti asked in a small voice.

George opened his mouth to speak.

"The truth, Dad," Edwin said quietly.

"I don't know. It'll be a couple more hours before we know anything more."

They all nodded and returned to their chairs. Casey felt the knot in her chest tighten.

"Marti, Edwin, and Lizzie," Mom began in a gentle voice, "Maybe you should all go home. I'll drive you and we'll notify you immediately if anything changes, but—"
"No."

It was Lizzie who spoke. Casey looked at her sister.

"Derek's our family," she said determinedly. "We aren't going anywhere."

Marti and Edwin nodded in assent.

George and her mom exchanged a look, and they abandoned the idea, sitting wearily in their chairs.

Two hours and thirty-nine minutes. Tap, tap, tap. The tension in the air was so thick Casey could have cut it with a knife. Or a scalpel. A shiver ran down her back. Tap, tap, tap.

Casey stood up.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," she announced. Her mother looked up.

"Don't go too far," she said. The look between them lingered for a moment and Casey finally walked out the ER doors.

It was dark, and the air had a biting chill. She zipped her coat tighter and, stuffing her hands in her pockets, began to walk down the sidewalk. In the distance a siren wailed. The sound drew nearer, until an ambulance pulled up at the unloading dock. The lights flashed sending lattice patterns across the pavement. Casey watched as a gurney was wheeled out and rushed into the building. Frenzied voices blurred with one another until the doors muted them. The ambulance pulled away. She continued walking. Her breath exhaled in small clouds of smoke, which curled and vanished in the brisk air.

Near the back of the building she stumbled upon a withered garden. In the middle of it was a faded statue of Mary, arms outstretched. She gazed up at her. Her porcelain features were shrouded in the darkness.

Casey had never been religious, but in the frost-bitten outdoor chapel of London State Hospital, she got down on her knees and prayed.


A/N: Cliffhanger! What do you think?

I'm going to do Marti's POV next.

Review!

--JR