Ceasing the Blasts
Steve yawned and stretched. Morning, he thought to himself. Today was going to be hit or miss for Steve. Would he be able to get that guy from what Mr Edwards would tell him? Would Mr Edwards be able to tell him anything? Would it be too late? Would Huddersfield have moved on by then?
So many questions filled Steve's mind as he got dressed, but only one persisted to be turned over and over in his mind. Would Jesse be okay?
"Morning," Steve greeted his father as he came up the stairs of his apartment.
"Morning," Mark replied. "Coffee?"
"Hmm," Steve grunted in answer. "What time is it?"
"A quarter to nine," Mark glanced at his watch.
"I should be getting that call at around lunchtime," Steve told his father. "Are you going into work today?"
"For this morning," Mark said. "But, I'll probably end up staying the whole day."
"It wouldn't be the first time," Steve chuckled.
Mark arrived at the hospital, and the first thing he did was to go in and check on Jesse. It was his priority at this time.
He quietly opened the door to his friend's room. Jesse appeared to be asleep.
Mark began by checking Jesse's chart, and monitoring the machines that surrounded Jesse. Then Mark took a look at the patient.
At a first glance, Jesse appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But, on looking closer, Mark could see that Jesse was not as asleep as first thought.
"Hey, Jesse?" Mark whispered softly. Mark could see Jesse's hands moving slightly, as if they were tensing, and trying to move. Jesse's face was also tensing, scrunching up slightly, as if he was trying to open his eyes.
"Come on, Jesse, you can do this, you know you can do this," Mark urged him. "Come on, Jess. You're almost there. You can do it."
The encouragement seemed to do the trick. Finally, Jesse's eyes opened.
"That's it, Jesse!" Mark exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
"Hi," Jesse said softly.
"Hey, glad to have you back," Mark told him, sitting beside the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck or something," Jesse said slowly.
"It is such a relief," Mark said.
"What is? That I feel like I got hit by a truck or something?" Jesse asked.
"No, no," Mark told him. "We thought you had brain damage or something."
"Really?" Jesse asked in surprise. "Well, I feel okay, except for one thing."
"What's that?" Mark asked, his face going slightly pale.
"I can't see from here, but did you amputate one of my legs?"
"No," Mark said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"I can't feel my right leg."
Although this was not the best news Mark could have wanted to hear, he kept his cool. "You can feel everything else?"
"Yeah. Just I can't feel my right leg. I know where everything else is, because it hurts and aches. Like, what happened here?" Jesse pointed to his chest.
"Don't you remember?" Mark asked, concerned that Jesse might possibly have a form of amnesia.
"I remember a big bang, and some fire, but it all went a bit blurry after that," Jesse explained.
"A big bang," Mark mumbled, thinking that was putting it very mildly.
"I remember some stuff after that, too," Jesse said. "Amanda came in and talked to me, not long ago."
"Really?" Mark asked in surprise.
"Yeah. It was all muffled what she was saying to me. I was trying to wake up but I couldn't. That is so frustrating."
"Don't worry, Jess. You're alive and kicking now, and there is nothing to worry about."
"Why exactly am I in this state?" Jesse asked, referring to his injuries. "I just remember a bang and fire. What the hell happened?"
"Okay," Mark said, settled down on the chair. "Well, yesterday lunchtime. You, me, Steve, Amanda, Dion, and CJ were eating in BBQ Bob's. Then, Amanda's car alarm went off, turns out it was a young girl on roller-skates who had not yet learnt to stop. Anyway, Amanda, Dion, Steve and myself all went out there, and you and CJ remained inside."
"Yeah, I remember some of that," Jesse said.
"Then, we turned around and the blast from the side building went off," Mark said, finding it hard to tell such a bad story. "Amanda was very distraught, but a couple of minutes later, we saw CJ running out of the building with your Denim jacket over his head."
Jesse nodded. "The blast happened, and I was thrown over the counter. CJ and I kinda landed in a heap on the floor. He seemed okay, so I guessed that the best thing would be to send him outside with my jacket over his head."
"I don't think you can ever know how much Amanda appreciates what you did," Mark said. "I think she will be forever grateful."
"I the same thing with a couple of other people," Jesse continued, "but then the doorway looked a bit decrepit so I stopped doing that."
"Did you put everyone else under tables?" Mark asked.
"Yeah," Jesse said. "The ceiling didn't look too good."
"The ceiling collapsed, do you remember that?"
Jesse had a pained look in his eyes. "I thought I was going to die," he said to himself. "I really did."
"You did?" Mark asked. "But, you weren't so bad. A few broken ribs and concussion."
Jesse lay silently in his bed. "Jesse?" Mark enquired. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Hey, Mark, you know now that I'm awake, do you really think I need all these machines buzzing and beeping around me, huh?"
"No, you're probably right," Mark replied. What was it that Jesse was hiding?
"And, about my leg," Jesse continued. "When do I get to start physiotherapy?"
"I think we ought to give you a couple more days for your ribs to get stronger," Mark said. "They were hit pretty hard, you know."
"Yeah, I know," Jesse groan, feeling the pain. "And my head?"
"A few cuts, grazes," Mark told him. "We were concerned that you might have problems when you woke up, but I guess you proved us wrong."
"Guess I did," Jesse murmured. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Steve saw Mark leave Jesse's room, looking somewhat happier.
"Is he awake?" Steve asked hopefully.
"He was, but only for five or ten minutes," Mark said. "It was a struggle, and tiredness got the better of him in the end."
"And, what about the complications?" Steve persisted.
"The only thing is that he can't feel his right leg," Mark said.
"Not at all? Why can't he feel it?" Steve asked.
"It's probable that the nerves have been damaged in the leg," Mark said, "but sometimes there are questions that even the doctors can't answer."
"Is there anything that can be done?" Steve asked him.
"Well, we'll start with physiotherapy, and see if that will help it."
"Was his leg actually broken?" Steve questioned.
"No, it wasn't," Mark informed him. "That's what I find strange. It's a bit farfetched, but I think that a part of Jesse's brain was hit, the part that told him to use his right leg."
"That does sound a bit, unbelievable," Steve retorted.
"But, whatever happens, Jesse still needs his friends," Mark reminded his son. "And, by the way, weren't you supposed to be waiting for a call from Mr Edwards?"
"I got that call," Steve said. "His wife was picking him up at the airport, and she said they'd be home in a little over half an hour. I decided to stop by to see Jess before I went to see them. I guess I better go and meet them."
"Okay," Mark said. "Be careful."
Steve rolled his eyes. "You said that yesterday."
"Well it doesn't hurt to say it again," Mark chucked as he watched his son leave.
"Why do you want to get this Huddersfield guy?" Mr Edwards enquired as he rummaged around in one of his desk drawers.
Steve sighed. HE was the detective, not them! "You'll probably find out all about it tomorrow, if we get him. Until then, it's confidential."
"All right," Mr Edwards said, picking up an envelope. "This is where his last address was." He wrote it on a piece of paper.
"Thank you," Steve said, glancing at the paper. "You have been a huge help."
"Just wish I knew what I helped you do," Mr Edwards said.
"You will do soon, don't worry," Steve said. In actual fact, Steve did not want to be the one to tell the Edwards' that their daughter had been working with the Carolina Street bomber. He would let the tabloids do that.
Steve and two other police officers trudged up to the apartment. He rapped on the door.
"Frank Huddersfield," Steve barked. "Open up. This is the police."
It sounded like someone had dropped something inside the apartment.
"I'll give you to the count of three to open up," Steve hollered. "One! Two! Three!"
At the third count, Steve kicked the door in, and pointed his gun at the man, who had one leg through the window.
"Freeze! It's a big fall, Frank," Steve snarled. "Move slowly inside the window."
Frank sighed, and took his foot from outside the window.
"Frank Huddersfield, I am placing you under arrest..." Steve read the man his rights.
After Steve got back into his car, he called his father.
"We got him, Dad," Steve said. "We got the Carolina Street Bomber."
"Am I glad to hear that," Mark sighed with relief.
Steve yawned and stretched. Morning, he thought to himself. Today was going to be hit or miss for Steve. Would he be able to get that guy from what Mr Edwards would tell him? Would Mr Edwards be able to tell him anything? Would it be too late? Would Huddersfield have moved on by then?
So many questions filled Steve's mind as he got dressed, but only one persisted to be turned over and over in his mind. Would Jesse be okay?
"Morning," Steve greeted his father as he came up the stairs of his apartment.
"Morning," Mark replied. "Coffee?"
"Hmm," Steve grunted in answer. "What time is it?"
"A quarter to nine," Mark glanced at his watch.
"I should be getting that call at around lunchtime," Steve told his father. "Are you going into work today?"
"For this morning," Mark said. "But, I'll probably end up staying the whole day."
"It wouldn't be the first time," Steve chuckled.
Mark arrived at the hospital, and the first thing he did was to go in and check on Jesse. It was his priority at this time.
He quietly opened the door to his friend's room. Jesse appeared to be asleep.
Mark began by checking Jesse's chart, and monitoring the machines that surrounded Jesse. Then Mark took a look at the patient.
At a first glance, Jesse appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But, on looking closer, Mark could see that Jesse was not as asleep as first thought.
"Hey, Jesse?" Mark whispered softly. Mark could see Jesse's hands moving slightly, as if they were tensing, and trying to move. Jesse's face was also tensing, scrunching up slightly, as if he was trying to open his eyes.
"Come on, Jesse, you can do this, you know you can do this," Mark urged him. "Come on, Jess. You're almost there. You can do it."
The encouragement seemed to do the trick. Finally, Jesse's eyes opened.
"That's it, Jesse!" Mark exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
"Hi," Jesse said softly.
"Hey, glad to have you back," Mark told him, sitting beside the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck or something," Jesse said slowly.
"It is such a relief," Mark said.
"What is? That I feel like I got hit by a truck or something?" Jesse asked.
"No, no," Mark told him. "We thought you had brain damage or something."
"Really?" Jesse asked in surprise. "Well, I feel okay, except for one thing."
"What's that?" Mark asked, his face going slightly pale.
"I can't see from here, but did you amputate one of my legs?"
"No," Mark said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"I can't feel my right leg."
Although this was not the best news Mark could have wanted to hear, he kept his cool. "You can feel everything else?"
"Yeah. Just I can't feel my right leg. I know where everything else is, because it hurts and aches. Like, what happened here?" Jesse pointed to his chest.
"Don't you remember?" Mark asked, concerned that Jesse might possibly have a form of amnesia.
"I remember a big bang, and some fire, but it all went a bit blurry after that," Jesse explained.
"A big bang," Mark mumbled, thinking that was putting it very mildly.
"I remember some stuff after that, too," Jesse said. "Amanda came in and talked to me, not long ago."
"Really?" Mark asked in surprise.
"Yeah. It was all muffled what she was saying to me. I was trying to wake up but I couldn't. That is so frustrating."
"Don't worry, Jess. You're alive and kicking now, and there is nothing to worry about."
"Why exactly am I in this state?" Jesse asked, referring to his injuries. "I just remember a bang and fire. What the hell happened?"
"Okay," Mark said, settled down on the chair. "Well, yesterday lunchtime. You, me, Steve, Amanda, Dion, and CJ were eating in BBQ Bob's. Then, Amanda's car alarm went off, turns out it was a young girl on roller-skates who had not yet learnt to stop. Anyway, Amanda, Dion, Steve and myself all went out there, and you and CJ remained inside."
"Yeah, I remember some of that," Jesse said.
"Then, we turned around and the blast from the side building went off," Mark said, finding it hard to tell such a bad story. "Amanda was very distraught, but a couple of minutes later, we saw CJ running out of the building with your Denim jacket over his head."
Jesse nodded. "The blast happened, and I was thrown over the counter. CJ and I kinda landed in a heap on the floor. He seemed okay, so I guessed that the best thing would be to send him outside with my jacket over his head."
"I don't think you can ever know how much Amanda appreciates what you did," Mark said. "I think she will be forever grateful."
"I the same thing with a couple of other people," Jesse continued, "but then the doorway looked a bit decrepit so I stopped doing that."
"Did you put everyone else under tables?" Mark asked.
"Yeah," Jesse said. "The ceiling didn't look too good."
"The ceiling collapsed, do you remember that?"
Jesse had a pained look in his eyes. "I thought I was going to die," he said to himself. "I really did."
"You did?" Mark asked. "But, you weren't so bad. A few broken ribs and concussion."
Jesse lay silently in his bed. "Jesse?" Mark enquired. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Hey, Mark, you know now that I'm awake, do you really think I need all these machines buzzing and beeping around me, huh?"
"No, you're probably right," Mark replied. What was it that Jesse was hiding?
"And, about my leg," Jesse continued. "When do I get to start physiotherapy?"
"I think we ought to give you a couple more days for your ribs to get stronger," Mark said. "They were hit pretty hard, you know."
"Yeah, I know," Jesse groan, feeling the pain. "And my head?"
"A few cuts, grazes," Mark told him. "We were concerned that you might have problems when you woke up, but I guess you proved us wrong."
"Guess I did," Jesse murmured. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Steve saw Mark leave Jesse's room, looking somewhat happier.
"Is he awake?" Steve asked hopefully.
"He was, but only for five or ten minutes," Mark said. "It was a struggle, and tiredness got the better of him in the end."
"And, what about the complications?" Steve persisted.
"The only thing is that he can't feel his right leg," Mark said.
"Not at all? Why can't he feel it?" Steve asked.
"It's probable that the nerves have been damaged in the leg," Mark said, "but sometimes there are questions that even the doctors can't answer."
"Is there anything that can be done?" Steve asked him.
"Well, we'll start with physiotherapy, and see if that will help it."
"Was his leg actually broken?" Steve questioned.
"No, it wasn't," Mark informed him. "That's what I find strange. It's a bit farfetched, but I think that a part of Jesse's brain was hit, the part that told him to use his right leg."
"That does sound a bit, unbelievable," Steve retorted.
"But, whatever happens, Jesse still needs his friends," Mark reminded his son. "And, by the way, weren't you supposed to be waiting for a call from Mr Edwards?"
"I got that call," Steve said. "His wife was picking him up at the airport, and she said they'd be home in a little over half an hour. I decided to stop by to see Jess before I went to see them. I guess I better go and meet them."
"Okay," Mark said. "Be careful."
Steve rolled his eyes. "You said that yesterday."
"Well it doesn't hurt to say it again," Mark chucked as he watched his son leave.
"Why do you want to get this Huddersfield guy?" Mr Edwards enquired as he rummaged around in one of his desk drawers.
Steve sighed. HE was the detective, not them! "You'll probably find out all about it tomorrow, if we get him. Until then, it's confidential."
"All right," Mr Edwards said, picking up an envelope. "This is where his last address was." He wrote it on a piece of paper.
"Thank you," Steve said, glancing at the paper. "You have been a huge help."
"Just wish I knew what I helped you do," Mr Edwards said.
"You will do soon, don't worry," Steve said. In actual fact, Steve did not want to be the one to tell the Edwards' that their daughter had been working with the Carolina Street bomber. He would let the tabloids do that.
Steve and two other police officers trudged up to the apartment. He rapped on the door.
"Frank Huddersfield," Steve barked. "Open up. This is the police."
It sounded like someone had dropped something inside the apartment.
"I'll give you to the count of three to open up," Steve hollered. "One! Two! Three!"
At the third count, Steve kicked the door in, and pointed his gun at the man, who had one leg through the window.
"Freeze! It's a big fall, Frank," Steve snarled. "Move slowly inside the window."
Frank sighed, and took his foot from outside the window.
"Frank Huddersfield, I am placing you under arrest..." Steve read the man his rights.
After Steve got back into his car, he called his father.
"We got him, Dad," Steve said. "We got the Carolina Street Bomber."
"Am I glad to hear that," Mark sighed with relief.