As always, I hope you enjoy. We're getting there!
Chapter 12
Dwight Evans wasn't really sure what he was looking for. Obviously, he knew he was looking for his son. But as he and Quinn brushed aside stinging branches and kicked through underbrush, he found himself completely distracted by his thoughts. If they actually found Sam, if he was hurt, or god forbid worse, it would be a complete shock.
Spotlights shone through the leaves and cast an eerie yellow-green glow in the pitch-black forest. Dwight reassured himself that he was a grown man, and that he shouldn't be afraid of the woods or the dark. But still his heart leapt when a crunching foot nearby startled him, or when they drifted too far from a spotlight and the light faded into a sickly gray. He wasn't sure if he was afraid of the dark, or afraid that he would find his son's body hidden in it.
The police found blood on the road and confirmed it was Sam's. They said he had lost quite a bit. What were the chances that they weren't searching for a body? What were the chances Dwight wouldn't have to bury his oldest child?
Quinn must have sensed his fear because she reached out to brush light fingertips over his arm. She was a sweet girl. When word spread that the police were assembling a team to search the woods, large numbers of McKinley kids had turned up to help. Dozens of football players came in Titans Football t-shirts, and a number of other kids Dwight assumed were Sam's beloved glee club came as well.
The latter had surrounded Quinn and wrapped her in a tight hug while she tried not to break down. They took her hand and tried to lead her off to join their search groups, but she had shook them off gently. She told them she wanted to stay with Dwight. The other kids nodded. They probably assumed that Quinn was scared and needed the support of Sam's father to make this horrible thing they were doing seem ok. But really, it was just the opposite. He knew she could tell just how fragile he was behind the façade he had erected for his wife and kids, even for her. She wanted to be there for him to provide the little bit of extra strength he would need to go through with this. God bless her for that. She was a good girl.
Dwight and Quinn continued pushing away the brush and calling Sam's name when the harsh sound of swiftly crunching leaves broke them from their thoughts. Before them stood a breathless young officer. Dwight froze. By his side, Quinn did as well.
Between gasps, the officer managed to cough out, "You need to come with me." He grabbed Dwight's arm and tugged him in the direction from which he had come. Overcome by the sense of urgency, Dwight and Quinn jolted from their paralysis and dashed after the sprinting officer.
Dwight was too panicked to think. He didn't think about where they were going, or what he would find when they got there. His arms flew up in front of his face to shield him from stinging nettles as he barreled through the thick growth. His feet stumbled over curling roots, but still, he kept running. If this was his last chance to see his baby . . . If it was his last chance to tell him he loved him . . .
"No," Dwight thought firmly, "No. No. No." He pushed the thought from his mind and ran towards the road with a boiling desperation.
A patrol car was parked on the road just where Dwight and Quinn burst from the woods. That portion of the road had been shut down as a crime scene.
"Where is he?" Dwight shouted, lungs burning. His eyes shot back and forth along the road, searching for some movement, some crowd, something to point him in the right direction. "Where's my son?"
The officer tore open the back door of the car. "He's, well, we don't know for sure, but . . ."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dwight felt himself tipping over into hysteria. "Where is he?"
A crowd of the searchers was beginning to gather behind them.
"An ambulance picked up a kid up the road five miles. A teenager, male. Blond. They're on the way to the hospital. We're sending a patroller to pick up your wife and meet us there. We need to go. Now!"
He grabbed at Dwight's elbow.
"I-I-I don't . . . My other kids, I-I can't . . . We don't have anyone here," Dwight stammered, not sure if anyone could understand. His mind was darting frantically. He felt like he was on drugs.
From out of the crowd stepped a tiny brunette girl holding the hand of a tall boy Dwight recognized as the other quarterback. "Mr. Evans," she spoke quietly, her lashes lowered, "Finn and I can watch them while you take care of . . . of . . ."
The officer jumped in, nodding. "Good." He turned the two kids towards a second patrol car with an officer already seated at the wheel.
"We have to go now," the young officer said sternly, nudging Dwight into the backseat of the car. He felt helpless. Ever since Sam had gone missing, he felt like a bag of sand people had been pushing in one direction then another. They told him statistics about missing children, missing teenagers, males, females . . . all of it was meaningless to him. They said Sam had probably been mugged, then when Dwight told them that he didn't run with an iPod or anything valuable, they had answered with a simple, "oh." He couldn't really think on his own; everyone was trying to tell him different things, and he didn't understand any of it.
Sitting in the back of the patrol car, he felt numb. He looked up at the pretty blonde girl standing outside the door. Her wavy hair was floating in the night breeze and a streetlight illuminated her pale skin.
"Quinn?" Dwight croaked, his fear and panic finally cracking the surface. "Please?"
"Slide over," she said and stepped into the car.
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Dwight, Mary, and Quinn sat in a small waiting room outside the hospital's operating room. It was past two in the morning, and it had been over an hour and a half since the officer dropped them off there. The officer was able to tell them that it was, in fact, Sam the ambulance had brought in, but beyond that, there was no news.
Mary's eyes were bloodshot. She hadn't cried once yet, but she was sleepless and in constant turmoil. Quinn clasped Mary's small, bone-white hand in her lap, trying to offer some comfort. But the older woman never felt her. She had completely closed herself off. She stared, unblinking, at the swinging doors leading to the operating room. Behind those doors, her son was laid out on a table, unconscious, with gloved fingers and scalpels prodding around inside him. She felt nothing.
If she allowed herself to feel something, she would feel the way she did when she first saw him. He was a solid little thing. The nurse had handed him to her wrapped in a little blue blanket, and she was surprised at his weight and how substantial he felt. She had expected the baby to be a dainty bird, something she would have to handle ever so gently or she would crush it. But as she cuddled Sam to her breast and nuzzled her face into his little tummy, she realized that he was real and he wouldn't break. He was hers, and she adored him.
He stole her breath the first time he opened his eyes. They were so bright, and they stared right into her. He had one lock of white-blond hair that stuck up in the center of his bald head, and with his round, blue eyes, Mary thought he looked a bit like a happy little chicken. He was a quiet baby, but he was always smiling and his eyes shone with animation.
Part of her felt a deep sense of loss when Sam started shedding his baby chub and growing into a young man. At fifteen he was six feet tall and still shooting up. He was well built like his father. Mary saw the way girls looked at him. Now, he showed no physical remnants of the chubby little chicken she adored. But he was respectful, and he was true. He treated people well. He wasn't too self-conscious to allow a big smile to take over his face, and his eyes were as lively as the first time he opened them. Even if the world would call him a man, he was still her baby.
And if she allowed herself to feel anything at all, all of these memories would drown her, and she would run screaming into that operating room and shake the doctors until they promised they would give him back to her. So instead she felt nothing, and thought only with a cold detachment of the fingers digging through his insides.
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Quinn was the first to shoot up from her perch when a surgeon pushed through the swinging doors. He was a small Asian man with intelligent eyes and soft features. He was wearing scrubs splattered with blood. Quinn gripped Mary's hand and pulled her to her feet. The woman seemed to be melting in her grasp.
"Mr. and Mrs. Evans?" the doctor asked quietly. Dwight and Mary tensed as the doctor stepped close.
Quinn lingered behind, not wanting to intrude. She hadn't been dating Sam for very long, and these people might be on the verge of getting the worst news of their lives. But Dwight looked back to her and nodded, taking her hand. She had been with them through all of this, and she deserved to know. She took a deep breath and stepped into the small huddle. Dwight supported his wife with an arm around her waist, and his other hand clasped Quinn's firmly.
"I'm afraid I don't have much good news," the doctor started, looking sympathetic. Quinn froze, and the hand holding hers tightened its grip.
"We're doing our best, but Sam's injuries are extensive and he's barely hanging on. I can't put a number on his chances of making it through this, but I can assure you, we've got the best surgeons, and we're doing everything in our power to save your son."
Mary's face never changed. Dwight broke the silence, "Please. No one's told us anything. What happened to him?" He was trying to remain calm, to keep the desperation out of his voice.
The doctor sighed, gazing down at his hands. "Someone's hurt him very badly. Probably at least two attackers. He's been shot in the leg, but the injuries that are causing the most damage are two deep stab wounds, one in the back and one in the stomach. These injuries are almost always fatal. If he came in a minute later, we wouldn't have a chance at all."
Dwight drew in a sharp breath. "So somebody just jumped him and did all this?"
"No, Mr. Evans. I'm very sorry, but Sam's body shows signs of extensive torture. I'm afraid this wasn't just a case of a mugging gone awry. We won't be able to tell any more unless we can get him stabilized and examine him."
Dwight nodded silently. He thanked the doctor, who nodded before turning briskly to push open the doors to the operating room. The three sat down stiffly, everyone afraid to move or think. For ten minutes that felt like hours, they sat in silence.
"Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee."
Dwight and Mary turned to stare, shocked out of their vigil by the sudden voice.
"Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
Dangling from Quinn's fingers was a pearly pink strand of rosary beads. She clutched the bead closest to the tiny gold cross with such force that her fingers shook.
"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death."
Her rosy lips trembled, and her eyes were pressed tightly shut. Tear droplets rolled freely down her cheeks.
"Amen."