For those of you keeping up with this story, here's part 2.
Found
I never thought, in all my life, I'd be so relieved at seeing a hospital. I'd been there only a couple of times when I was a kid. The biggest reason being me running about, screaming on how the toys were alive; but it wasn't this kind of hospital. Hell if it mattered. A hospital was a place of nosy doctors poking their noses in your business. That was especially true when I once got my ass kicked from a surprise attack. Didn't want to tell em' what happened cause I was the one that started it-and it was over drugs. So I made up something off the top of my head.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror at Davis. If anything, he was getting paler.
I wouldn't have to make up nothing for him. But I wasn't sure if I could say anything at all.
I knew who was responsible even though I didn't see who done it, so, that saves me right there.
I found him, just like that. I wouldn't have to tell no one what I knew about it. It was Davis' problem. It wasn't none of my business.
I'd let them doctors pry into him when he came round, then I'd slip out. The hell if I'm getting involved in his affairs any more than I am now.
I turned the truck up to the curb. The bright lights of the interior assured me I was in a safe place. That it wasn't like a police station where cops would irritate the hell out of me for answers. I could just drop him off here.
Before I even arrived here, I had imagined myself leaping out the truck, running into the waiting room and shouting about the half dead kid in my backseat. But it wasn't like that. I was numb by now, but still panicked. Still, I did jump out the truck, but not before glancing down at my cell that had been on my lap for part of the journey.
By some miracle, Davis had woke up again, this time whining for his mom. He harbored just enough strength to give me the number for contact.
I recorded the number-but I did not make the call. And it wasn't because I was against people talking while driving.
I slipped it in my pocket and flung open the backdoor.
Davis didn't look like he was breathing anymore. It would've been a damn shame if he died right now after I finally made it to the sick house. For what I figured would be the last time, I touched him. My fingers fell against his neck for a pulse. In the many seconds I was doing this, I was cursing myself for wasting time. 'You dumbass, you're not a doctor! The doctors are in there! Get one!'
But it was like I had to know if I was too late. I listened to myself. I couldn't find a pulse. I turned from Davis, the backdoor still wide open, and ran between the sliding doors crying out.
"Hey! Please!"
Several faces looked up, probably wondering what kind of asshole I was, to walk in disturbing the painful quiet of the waiting room. I turned to the reception desk where an over make-uped blonde was giving me an odd look. Before she could say anything, I blurted out the situation.
"There's a kid in the backseat of my car, ah truck! He's bleedin, he's dying!"
The receptionist stood up and alerted two E.M.T's to follow me to my truck. I jumped aside as they ducked inside to check on Davis.
"He's lost a lot of blood," one of the E.M.T's said to the other.
"He's barely breathing. How'd this happen?" the second one asked me.
Here's where I didn't want to get involved. They were gonna drag me further into Davis's problem. It was his problem, not mine. I shrugged. I'd make up an excuse.
"I..just found him like that. All bloody. I didn't see what happened."
It wasn't a full interrogation because another E.M.T came with the stretcher. The guy that asked me the question was too busy preparing to load Davis on it. They were being as gentle as possible.
"Why are his pants pulled down?" asked the E. M. T that had just joined the others.
The other two traded each other confused looks then they turned to me with a frown. I could tell right away they were thinking I'd done something dirty to him on the way over here. I wasn't about to let them off the hook with the wrong idea.
"It's not what you think!" I told them. "I found him that way, and I wasn't going to touch him...in case, you know..."
I was still trying to explain as this part of my story was true. I wasn't about to pull up another guy's shorts. But they didn't wait around to hear the answer. They were already wheeling Davis out of my sight. One of them signaled to me to follow.
"Come on kid. We may need you to answer a few questions."
That was the last thing I wanted. One or two questions was enough.
"I already told you. I don't know anything about this."
"Wait here," one of them ordered as he and the others wheeled him into the emergency room. I sighed and looked around. The few people in the room did nothing to ease the tension. They were all already tense. Probably waiting for news on how screwed a family member or friend was. Well I didn't want to be one of those people. I wasn't anyways. Davis wasn't my friend. He was just some jerk that got straight A's all the time. Someone who probably thought he was better than the rest of us who got straight D's and F's.
Hell, I didn't wanna be here. I had better things to do. And even though that was the case, I still plopped down on one of the seats in the corner. I figured I'd talk my way out of any questions they threw at me. Deny that I knew Davis and what had happened to him. I figured if I got through with it now, they had no reason to try and hunt me down if I walked out. Surely there were cameras around takin photos of me. I wouldn't want to be on their wanted list for questions, if such a thing existed.
I sat there, not taking any interest in the people or the t.v they were watching. I was just staring at the floor, annoyed at Davis for draggin me into this. But when I thought that, I couldn't help looking over at the double doors that led into the emergency ward. What if they couldn't save him? What if...he died?
When that thought came to mind, I had no choice but to think of what his family would think. If he was dead in there, it would be a while before they were told what happened. It could take weeks for them to even find out who he is.
Okay. I really didn't think it would take that long, but the fact of the matter remained. I was dragged into this, so if Davis did die, they would remember I was the one that brought him in. I'd be caught, literally red handed (due to all the blood), and I'd get blamed for not admitting I knew the guy. It had been a long time since I'd last seen Davis' mom and little sister. I had never paid much attention to them before when they lived next door. But with that possibility of getting in deeper on my mind, I decided to make the contact first.
I pulled out my cell and dialed the number. 'Don't die on me Davis,' I silently thought to myself. 'Don't die on them.'
The phone rang once, then twice, then three times before there was a click. I literally tensed when I heard someone answer.
"Hello?"
I didn't answer at first. I was struggling with the idea of telling her anything at all.
"Hello?" she asked uncertainly. I sighed. I really didn't want to be getting into this. Well it was too late to back out now. I could've just hung up, but her uncertainty kept me from doing it.
"Uh, is this, Mrs. Davis?" I said, just as bewildered as she sounded.
"Who is this?" She sounded worried and very suspicious.
"Ah, I know your kid, Andy. I go to his school. Listen, something happened to, him. He's been hurt, bad."
"What! Who is this?" Now she sounded hysterical. If she'd had seen him the way I had, she would have dropped dead. I ignored her second question.
"I've taken him to Regional State Hospital. You might wanna hurry."
"But, what-"
I hung up before she could finish her question. I stared at the phone for a few minutes, finding it hard to believe that I had just done that. Why had I just done that? It's not like I owed Davis anything. I shook my head. I wasn't going to think about it now. Then my phone started to ring, just as I was putting it in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was the same number I called. Davis' mom calling me back for more information. I just stared at it, but I didn't answer it. I put it in my pocket and just let it ring.
I went for my other pocket where my grass was still safely tucked away. I never needed a drag so bad as I did now, but getting away with it in here was not possible. Slowly I stood up and stepped outside.
Here, I let go. I leaned against the side of the building and took in all the smoke like it was a fresh breath of sweet air. I gave a heavy sigh then. The weight of the garbage I had found was someone else's load. I could relax now. I could go home and forget all about this. No doubt Davis would forget. I was sure he wouldn't remember me saving him. He was half dead when he was awake and spoke to me.
Whatever. The hell did I care if he did manage to remember. I could always turn it against him. He'd owe me big time for savin his ass. Maybe money wise. But then if he knew, his mom would know. And if she knew, so would a lot of t.v stations, followed by the school. I'd become a hero, and I wasn't no hero. I was the garbage.
I was the sorry, dope using garbage boy who got into trouble, made bad grades and would never amount to anything. That included being the kind of person who would help someone out. Least of all the goody-two-shoes pain in the ass Davis.
I took another drag and sighed. I was imagining how it'd be if everyone did know what I'd done. If I marched right back in there and told them everything. That meaning I'd tell them my name, but not the names of the punks responsible for this crap. No need to have them on my case for not letting him die. They never bothered me. I was as invisible as a crushed can on the side of a waste basket. I wasn't shining gold like their target. But even if I was, I could take them. Unlike the victim, I could be a fighter.
Yeah, I could go in there and spill it. But I wasn't going to.
"Yeah right," I said out loud. "I ain't gonna give you the satisfaction."
I wasn't gonna let Davis spread out the idea that I was some kind of saint. I wasn't. Not to people anyway. Only to the things people threw away.
But that wasn't counting Davis.
I didn't know how long I'd been leaning against the building. I wasn't even sure why I was still hanging around. My part of the job was done. I finished the cig and flicked it to the side. I was going to head home and hop into bed. Forget this night ever existed. As I turned to head for my truck, the question of how I was ever going to return to my hide-away on my mind, I saw a panicked blonde woman hurrying into the double doors of the hospital while dragging a pale blonde headed girl behind her.
"Shit," I cursed. It was them. Mrs. Davis and her other kid. But it didn't really matter. They didn't know it was me that called. So I went about my business. I headed to my truck and was determined not to look around. But I couldn't help it. Curiosity got the better of me and I had to look.
Inside, I could see the receptionist trying to calm her down and explain. The little girl was paying close attention, but I could also see she looked a little bored. That was a tween for yah. Hannah had gone through the same thing with me. At some point she stopped caring about me. But this girl was pale. I glanced up at the mother. She was really upset. I turned away. I wondered if my own mom and sister would act that way if something like this happened to me. I knew my damn father wouldn't.
I looked back up and jumped. The receptionist was pointing in my direction and Mrs. Davis turned to look at me through the door. No doubt she had told me I was the one who brought him in.
I quickly stuck my keys in the door and opened it. I was gonna fly outta here before she got a good look at my face. There was the possibility she wouldn't remember me, but I wasn't gonna take any chances.
"Wait!" I heard her shout.
I didn't look around. I put my attention into getting out of here. But by the time I jumped in the driver's seat, Mrs. Davis was already at the passenger's window.
"Wait! Please! Are you the one that brought my son?"
My hand froze on the ignition. I couldn't move.
"Please, are you?"
She sounded so desperate. Like one of those mothers who panicked the moment her kids got a small cut on a finger. I didn't look at her to see it though. I could hear it in her voice. The last thing I wanted was for her to break me down. To get me to feel sorry for her kid that was probably dead on the operating table.
"I think you're mistaken lady," I said. I should have stuffed my foot in my mouth for saying anything at all. As it turned out, Mrs. Davis had sharp ears.
"No I'm not. You're the one I talked to on the phone," she accused. "You're the one that-"
"So what if I am," I remarked. "He's here, that's all that matters."
I had looked at her when I said it. I watched her fright transform into determination. She moved away from the window, walked in front of the truck and stepped up to my window. For a moment she just stood there, staring at me. Studying my face. It annoyed the heck out of me so I looked away. I could have driven off, but she had her hands glued to the inside of the car door. If I had pulled off I was sure I'd be dragging her behind me.
"You're Sid Phillips aren't you?"
So she did remember me. I gritted my teeth. Slowly I looked back at her. She was staring at me with such disbelief.
"You are," she decided. "How did you find Andy? How did...what happened?"
"Lady...Mrs. Davis-"
"It's Ms. Davis actually. His father..." She started to tell me, but quickly waved it off. "It doesn't matter. What matters is Andy. Please, how did you find him? What happened? Did you see anything?"
I leaned my head back against the headrest. Here again was the last thing I wanted. An interrogation. Especially an interrogation from Davis' s mom. I rolled my eyes toward her. She was so pale and frightened, but at the same time she seemed determined to get the truth out of me. It didn't matter. I was gonna give her the same excuse I gave to the E. M. T's whether she believed it or not.
"I didn't see nothing. I just found him that way."
"But where?" she demanded.
I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted to do was reveal my secret spot. My private hideaway would probably be covered in cops sent by her to find a better explanation. I scoffed and shrugged. Then I quickly turned the ignition.
"I just found him on the side of the road."
"But." She reached for my arm, but I wasn't about to let her stall me any longer.
"Look, I gotta go. Ask your son about it. If he ain't already dead."
At that last remark of mine, Ms. Davis lost some of her confidence. Her hands dropped, so I used that opportunity to hit the gas and get the hell out of here.
I knew it was a nasty thing to do. Leave her with the thought that her kid might be a goner, but she had to face reality. The way he was beaten, there was less than a fifty fifty chance he'd live. I knew how those punks operated. Once Casey got a hold on you, your family was already pickin out caskets. But, it didn't feel that way. Not yet. I got him here on time, but that didn't mean it did any good.
Like I said, I wasn't no hero. I didn't and couldn't save no one. I was only good at saving trash.
As that thought came to mind, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ms. Davis looked like she was in a trance as she walked back toward the hospital. Her daughter met her halfway and grabbed her in a hug. I turned my eyes back to the road. When I hit a red light, I couldn't help looking back in the backseat where Davis' near dead body had been. The color red made a nasty decoration on the brown seats. I stared at that red long enough for the guy behind me to honk, letting me know the light had turned green. I took the hint and concentrated on the road again. I used the streets to try and switch my thoughts. I wasn't gonna think about Davis anymore. That was over with. He was someone else's problem now, and if he didn't make it, it wasn't my concern.
But...I couldn't help thinking of it as a concern.
The four days that followed should have been nothing but regular days. But they weren't to me. They were abnormal. They were stressful, and I knew why. It was that damn Davis! That's what it was. No matter how much I tried not to think about him or what I'd done, it kept coming back to me. Maybe it's cause of my regular routine at work. Every time I found something of interest that was discarded in the dump, I saw Davis lying not too far away. I pictured him just as I saw him. Half naked and all bloody. I had to shake my head to clear it, otherwise the guys would think I was losing my mind. They were already starting to wonder why I kept shaking my head. It was crazy. It was like the whole thing was making me feel guilty, and I had nothing to feel guilty about.
And to prove it, I spent a lot more time watching the news. No news was good news to me, but in this case, it wasn't. Davis's story had been on the local news a few times. The first time it came on, I was crossing the living room, behind the couch where my parents sat watching it. I froze when Davis' name came up. I tensed like a deer caught in the headlights. As I listened to the reporter explaining the situation, I was waiting for her to mention my name. To say Sid Phillips had something to do with it. She didn't. But then the one who could say my name came up. It was Ms. Davis being interviewed by the reporter. The unavoidable question came up of her son's rescuer. I tensed even more as she turned her full attention to the camera. For that moment, it was like our eyes had connected. I was staring into hers through the t.v screen, willing her not to mention me. And like some miracle it was like she heard me. She gave her answer.
"I don't know who he was. All he told me was that he found my son on the side of the road."
The reporter suspected the unknown rescuer had something to do with her son's state, but Ms. Davis explained that they couldn't be sure. Luckily she turned the attention back to her kid instead of on the mysterious hero. I had let a great sigh of relief escape me. I was off the hook. I had nothing to prove to no one.
But then I glanced down at my parents. My mom thought it was crazy that the rescuer didn't come forward. My dad thought she should have offered the hero some kind of reward. Their thoughts started a feeling of regret. I couldn't believe it. I was actually wishing Ms. Davis had said my name. To let em know I wasn't worthless. I wasn't garbage. That I could do something, well, incredible like saving a kid's life.
But the story had gone back to Davis. The reporter letting us know that her kid was still unconscious and receiving treatment.
After that I had walked away, headed to my room. My mind was a whirl of thoughts again. Then Hannah came along looking worried.
"Did you hear the news?" she asked. "The kid that used to live next to us got beat up."
"Yeah, I heard," I admitted sourly.
"Maybe we should visit him," she decided.
"You visit," I sneered. "It ain't my problem."
Of course Hannah thought this was normal for me. I had never been the nice guy in her eyes. I was as useless of a bastard as everyone thought I was. She didn't know my thoughts. My conflicting thoughts of how Davis was doing. She only heard my words that was an expression of me.
"Jerk," she accused. She stomped away. "Why don't you start caring about someone other than yourself!"
Hannah didn't know, that I did.
That had been the first day. In the second and third, Davis had woken up. Once again I kept an ear out for my name, but it was never given. Nobody knew. There wasn't no evidence, except the blood on my shirt from that night. But I had taken care of it before anyone spotted it. The only time I'd ever done laundry.
It was now the fourth day. I realized I didn't have to worry about Davis anymore, but it wasn't like I was completely tuned out to him. That damn kid still haunted me, and so did the idea of his mom confessing about my actions. Regardless, I tried to keep up my regular routine. I briefly considered returning to my dump, my secret hideaway, but I quickly dumped the idea.
There was too much blood there-too much.
Besides, I worried there was a chance Davis would somehow let em' in on where he'd been, and that would lead to it being more vandalized or some crap like that. Whatever. I didn't care. I didn't believe it was possible, that Davis would remember where he'd been or what had happened anyways.
But that was before I got the call.
Right before I left for school, my cell rang.
I felt the tension immediately and I hadn't even looked to see who was calling. I couldn't. I took the risk and answered the phone, slowly.
"Hel-lo?"
I was practically holding my breath as I waited for the reply.
"Hello. Is this Sid, Sid Phillips?"
I recognized the voice immediately and exhaled. The fact that it was Davis's mom didn't surprise me. It was to be expected, yet I couldn't help my fists trembling. I wanted to hang up. I should have hung up, but I didn't. I didn't say anything.
"Hello? Sid?" she asked.
I sighed. There was no escaping it.
"Yeah," I admitted. She was silent before she continued.
"How have you been?," she asked hesitantly.
"Just fine and dandy," I said as I rolled my eyes.
"Have you, been watching the news?"
"Yeah look, is this small talk going anywhere, cause I got school in a few minutes." It was kind of harsh the way I said it, but I didn't want to put up with the mild conversation anymore. I could tell she wanted something. Well my tones had silenced her briefly, then she became bold.
"I didn't give away your name. I didn't tell them it was you who saved my son."
"Lady-"
"But I did tell him, Andy I mean."
I growled. The last thing I wanted was for him to carry that information around. I couldn't' stand the idea of him holding it over my head.
"You told your kid? Great. That's like telling everybody, the news people, the guys at school.."
"He remembered you saved him. He told me, and I confirmed it. And he's not going to tell anybody, but..."
"But, what?"
"But he does want to see you."
Now I was silenced. That was the last thing I was expecting. A request from Davis, to see me again.
"Please," she begged. "I know it will do him good, and it might do you some good also if you just talk with him."
"And what if I don't, come see him. Is this blackmail? You gonna rat me out with the press? Give em my name?"
"I wouldn't do that, and neither would Andy." She sounded kind of desperate. "Please, he'd really appreciate it. And so would I."
I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to have this conversation. What was worse was that I didn't want to be considering it. I wasn't ever gonna set foot in another hospital again. I hadn't made that promise. I didn't have to. I had no reason to go there. I wasn't expecting to see Davis again until he came back to school. And even when he did come back, I was gonna do my best to avoid him. But for the moment I didn't avoid her. I just let her babble away about which room he was in and how nice it would be for me to come after school. I never said nothing about it. I didn't say I would or anything. As soon as she stopped yakking, I hung up.
I had no intention of walking in that hospital again. I wasn't about to set foot in Davis's room. So why the hell was I doin it? School was over and I could do whatever I wanted. So why was I going to the hospital?
Cause I'm as much of a dumbass as Davis. Cause I didn't have to work today. And cause, something told me I had to see for myself that the pain in the neck hadn't died. I stepped through the glass doors, calm this time instead of hysterical. That over make-uped blonde was there again. She gave me an odd look just like before, but there was also a mix of, I don't know...pity? I ignored it and just concentrated on walking. But at the same time I kept telling myself to turn around. Get the hell outta here! You don't owe Davis nothin! I didn't care about him.
"I don't...I don't," I kept telling myself. Like positive reinforcement.
I didn't even like him. The goody two-shoes perfect A+ student.
I pushed past the double doors and down a plain white hall. 'Why am I doing this?' I wondered. It wasn't for Davis. No. I didn't care. Maybe it was for his mom. Yeah. To shut her up. To make sure she didn't tell no one, cause I did show up even though I didn't want to. Even though I could have cared less if he hadn't made it.
I was moving pass a hall of patient's rooms, and much to my annoyance I was focusing on the right door. Room 423 was a serious room. I hadn't realized I'd passed into the intensive care ward.
'So what...it doesn't matter. I don't care.' I wanted to believe I didn't care more than anything. If I believed it then I would know for sure, that I wasn't the hero. I was still trash. Trash still carrying a small bag of trash in his pocket. 'God I needed a drag. Why didn't I take a drag before I came in here?'
The room was getting closer. Doctors were passing in and out of my sight. Some of them with charts, others with needles. I flinched when I saw a doc wheeling a patient on a bed to the elevator. She was wired to a machine that showed her vitals. I paused to watch her until the elevator doors shut. I don't know why, but she briefly made me wonder how bad off Davis was. If he was wired to a machine. If I would encounter a brain dead person who could barely speak.
'Big deal,' I thought angrily. I didn't feel sorry for him. Not that perfect golden boy. If anything, he deserved it.
I had thought that right at the moment I found myself standing outside of room 423. At that moment, most of my hate-filled thoughts had washed away. But the thought of him deserving it didn't, and I partially wished I hadn't thought it.
I took a deep breathe and stepped inside.
The room was miserably white, like the rest of the hospital. And like the rest of the hospital, the smell of disinfectant was strong. I'd been ignoring it up until this point, because of him.
"Damn," I muttered.
Luckily I hadn't said it too loud because one of the first things I noticed was Ms. Davis sitting by the bed with her back to me, covering her kid from view. She was holding onto his hand. I briefly looked down at mine. My mom never did that.
His mom dropped his hand and turned to me. She looked mildly surprised to see me.
"Sid," she said quietly. "For a minute, I didn't think you'd come."
I fidgeted and looked down at my feet. I couldn't believe she was making me feel so...I don't know...awkward. Nobody made me feel that way.
"Yeah well..." I trailed off.
"I'm glad you came," she said as she stood. Once she stepped away from the bed, I was able to get a good look at Davis. I actually felt a shock from looking at him.
There he was, propped up against his pillows, shirtless for the sake of his bandaged chest and all the wires and the I.V that were stickin in him. Like the patient I'd seen being wheeled in the elevator, he was hooked to a few machines that were beeping away. Letting anyone walking in the room know the kid was alive. He still looked battered and bruised, and so did his face when my eyes moved up to it. His right eye was still black and swollen. There were still scratches on his face. And if it weren't for the fact that he was staring right at me, I would've thought he was dead. He looked a lot more alive here than he did in my dump. Well, partially alive. He still looked pretty weak. I mean he couldn't have been all that great if he was in the ICU.
But the look he was giving me, told me he wasn't so weak. Like his damn spirit was strong enough to live within that pale, half-dead looking body.
It was silent. It was just us, staring at each other. Right now it was like Davis had more life than I did, because I was frozen. Ms. Davis was looking between me and her kid.
"Well, I'll leave you two alone," she said as she walked over to the door. "And Andy, if you need anything, press the call button."
Davis gave a small nod, letting his eyes drop to his blanket covered legs. It made me wonder if it was really him who wanted to talk, or his mom's idea. To get us to buddy up or some shit like that. Well that wasn't gonna happen. I drew the line there. I didn't care about Davis and, if that was her intention, I was gonna tell her so. If my thoughts had been heard, she probably wouldn't have closed the door and trapped us in.
I shifted on my feet again and forced myself to look at Davis. To look at him with hate for draggin me in his affairs. Davis was still looking at his legs. I still glared at him. I wasn't gonna say nothing. And if he wasn't gonna say nothing I was gonna get the hell out of this miserable place. I turned to do just that. I turned my back on him again.
"You know," he said quietly. "I never did say bye to you."
I turned around, frowning. He had a small smile on his face, but he was still looking down at his legs. It was like he was reminiscing.
"Huh? What are you talkin about?" I asked.
He turned to me again. His blue eyes looking really bright.
"I never said bye, before we moved."
A moment of silence followed. For me, I was still confused.
"Hey Sid, why don't you sit down."
I couldn't help feeling a little lost, and awkward. I had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation. Of course I could have turned my back and walked right out the door. What was he gonna do? Run after me? He couldn't do shit about my decision. I didn't have to talk to him if I didn't want to.
Davis just looked at me, waiting for me to decide. I sighed and took the place of him mom by the bed.
But that didn't mean I cared about what he had to say.
This story is pretty detailed, especially where dialogue is concerned. Sid is still annoyed by Andy, but he got him to the hospital. There's one more chapter to go. So keep reading and reviewing!