DISCLAIMER—ho hum, doo da dee, anything is mine that you don't recognize,
everything else belongs to the cast and crew of ER!
Sorry to keep you all waiting, here's chapter 11!
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SAVING GRACE—CHAPTER 11
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Carter left County that night at around eight O'clock, the memory of a smile on his lips. Though the two kids were only 5 and 8 years old, he'd genuinely had a good time playing cards with them. It had been a lot of fun, really. Grace had picked up the concept of Bluff, the card game, pretty quickly, and they had a great game before Amanda won. After that, they had had some more fun with the cards, playing rounds of Cray Eights and Egyptian Corkscrew, having a blast. Carter hardly even remembered the time until Nurse Lorraine came back to bring in evening meals for Grace and Amanda.
So with that, Carter said good-bye and left, promising to come back the next day. Amanda and her mother said goodbye, as Grace looked a little upset at his having to leave. She said farewell, but still wished to have company.
Carter thought, as he made his way up the staircase to the El platform that maybe having Amanda Boatsman with her in the room was not having a good effect on her attitude. Even though Grace and Amanda got along beautifully, Carter thought that the former could be having slight jealousy problems. Amanda's parents and brother came by a lot; the child was rarely left alone except at night and for short periods during the day. Grace received, by far, the most visitors, they usually didn't stay for longer than 10 or 15 minutes.
It seemed as though everyone on the hospital staff now officially knew that Grace was Lucy Knight's daughter. Most of the people at County had at least heard of Lucy, and her tragic death. As with any good bit of juicy gossip, the staff had felt the need to investigate for themselves. It had started just the day before, but one of the pediatric nurses had said that she saw doctors and nurses creeping by the window into room 512 where Grace resided. They stayed for a few seconds, typically; glanced into the room, goggling as if the child were in a zoo; and whispering to one another, being gossipy as usual.
Grace Knight was indeed a major topic of conversation and hospital gossip. People muttered constantly under their breaths, about where she came from, what she was like, where she would end up in the end. But most of all, they whispered about who her father was.
They spoke constantly, debating about who it could be, talking as if every man in Chicago, let alone the entire United States, could potentially be the father.
And Carter hated it.
He hated how they spoke as if Lucy had been the med school slut between her shifts. It wasn't as if she had been the kind of person to sleep around either. She had, after all, had a steady relationship at the time. He hated how everyone was now going to remember her like this, rather than as the great medical student and caring person that she was. He hated, more than anything else, though, the strange, suspicious glances that people threw him constantly.
And it was all because of the Exam 6 ordeal.
They all seemed to forget, though, that Lucy had been involved with what Carter understood to be a serious relationship with Dale, the surgical resident.
Dale had never specified whether he and Lucy had slept together. Carter harbored a suspicion that they hadn't, but he was never quite certain.
And he never could be.
Carter heard the wind rushing and the sound of the train coming down the tracks, slowing to a stop. The doors whooshed open, and Carter stepped onto the train, taking a seat before the vehicle began to move again. The doors closed, and they lurched forward.
He looked around the train for a moment. It was nearly barren, save for a small cluster of Japanese men, an elderly couple and a mother with her three children. Carter turned his head, resting it on the cool glass of the window as he looked out into the sunset. The El picked up speed. Carter closed his eyes for a moment.
He still wondered whether she had told him that she was pregnant. He suspected that she hadn't, because had that been the case, the small child wouldn't have journeyed to find her father. Instead, Carter thought, Dale would have claimed custody of the child and raised her as her father.
Obviously, that had not happened.
As Carter gazed out of the window at the moving scenery, he remembered a conversation that he had had with Lucy on the roof of County General. Of course, they'd had several chats,, but he remembered all of them, especially this particular one.
It had been after an elderly man tried to shoot and kill his wife. Lucy had discovered the gunshot wound, others having mistaken it for a bedsore. Carter and Lucy had sat up on the roof that night, sharing a cup of coffee. They had been talking about the elderly couple's marriage, the subject soon turning to marriage in general.
"I never thought much on getting married," she had told him. "I think my problem is that because I was raised by such a strong, capable single mom that I don't really see the need for a partner at all."
Her voice still echoed, slightly dimmed, in his head. He remembered telling her that he would eventually like to have a lasting relationship, if he could find that special someone.
That certainly never happened. Nobody after Lucy had worked out, though Abby came a close match.
As the train slowed to a stop at Carter's stop, he stood, slinging his leather bag over his shoulder and stepping off of the train. He paused a moment to breathe, turning his head, before starting down the platform and descending the stairs to the street.
It was dusk now. The sun had set just enough that the sky wasn't completely dark, but there were certain areas on the street that were dark, because of shadows cast by buildings. He had five blocks to walk, but he didn't care. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and continued down the sidewalk.
He couldn't recall exactly why his relationship with Abby hadn't worked out. The two of them had been great friends before they were lovers. That was the best thing two people in a relationship could hope for. He had trusted her, still did, actually.
Carter was grateful to her for helping him through the aftermath of the attack, guiding him through drug rehab and becoming his AA sponsor. He had confided in her, and still did, for many things. Abby had only wanted to help him, to keep him from more pain. That was evident the day that Paul Sobriki came back to the ER at County over two years after the attack.
Abby had recognized him right away, had asked to put him into hard restraints. Susan had felt it extreme, but she hadn't known. How could she have known? Abby had tried to stall for time, tried to keep Carter away from him. But it had happened anyway, the inevitable meeting.
Carter was sickened by the thought of speaking with that man, trying to be civil. He wanted to shout, wanted to knock the no-good son of a out of his gurney and straight onto the floor. But Sobriki had been lucid, had seemed to be nonviolent at the time, giving Carter no reason at all to hurt him.
So Carter had stood there, in front of the man who made his life a living Hell for so long, the man who killed Lucy, took a mother from her child forever, and all he could do was move his mouth soundlessly and hope to get away as soon as possible. And he had gone, as if in a trance, down the hallway to the restroom, and he had vomited.
Carter walked on, shaking his head briefly, still in thought. It was ironic, really, how things worked out. Paul Sobriki, who had slaughtered one and brutally attacked another, was now on release, probably out by now. He was married to a nice woman and they had a daughter.
Sobriki was living a normal, happy life. Carter, on the other hand, had been robbed of one of the best friends and most wonderful women he'd ever met, as well as stabbed and traumatized himself. He had been driven to drugs, and all because he had tried to help a patient; to do his job.
What a wonderful world. Whoever had said "what goes around, comes around," was certainly mislead.
Carter stepped under the light of a street lamp, into its yellow glow. The night was cool, as it should be, being autumn. Winter was fast approaching, he could feel it in the breeze. He stepped into the darkness again. He had only three blocks left to walk to his apartment building, and he walked quickly.
His footsteps pattered on the concrete of the sidewalk. He walked on a normal city road, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement seemed to be echoing more than was normal. As he turned the corner onto Santa Anita road, a force knocked him off of his feet.
Carter's bag was yanked forcefully out of his grip, and a pair of rough hands grabbed the collar of his coat, forcing him face-first into the brick side of a building. Carter pressed his cheek against the wall, trying not to speak out or make any sudden moves. He couldn't tell if his attacker had a weapon or not, and he didn't want to risk any serious injury. His face was pressed harder into the wall, a foot pressed on his lower back.
"Think about screaming for help," said a gruff, muffled voice, "And you're dead where you stand. Kapishe?"
Carter tried to swallow, and almost choked on his tongue. He finally gathered his breath enough to speak.
"Clear," he confirmed to the man. He kept his voice as low as he could.
"Good, and no ratting to the police," came a different voice. This one sounded as if the man speaking was speaking nasally, and was slightly more high-pitched. Carter heard a muffled thud and a gasp of pain; presumably, the first man had kicked the second one.
Carter felt a sudden pang of pain in his back, reminiscent of the stab wound he had received years ago. That was still a rough pressure point for him, and the pain at that moment made him want to collapse. He gasped as quietly as he could, which was difficult.
"What?" he heard the second man mock him. "Are we hurting you?" Carter bit his tongue and didn't answer.
"C'mon, let's do this. Maybe he'll have enough cash on him for a decent bit of meth."
"I'll check his bag."
"You," the first man said to Carter. "Turn out your pockets."
Carter still had his face against the wall, but his hands were free then to move toward his pockets. He turned them out slowly. He heard coins clinking on the sidewalk of the poorly lit alley as the change from his lunch in the cafeteria fell out of the pocket. Out of the other came fluttering two bits of paper: a receipt from something Carter couldn't remember, and a thank-you note from a patient, scrawled with pen on a napkin. Carter felt the man's grip on him loosen as he bent down to pick the things up.
Carter thought about running right then, when the guard was down. He guessed that the other man was maybe 15 or 20 feet from him, going through his bag. He could hit the first guy and bolt before the other knew what was even going on. But he didn't know if either of the men had a gun, and he didn't want to risk being shot. He decided not to do anything stupid.
"There's nothing useful in here, all this guy has is 25 bucks," the second man said, his footsteps approaching nearer to his accomplice. "There's no credit cards, nothing. There's one key, no car keys..."
"Well duh, if the guy had a car, he wouldn't be wandering out here at night, would he?" The first man straightened up and regained his strong hold on Carter, shoving him further into the wall. Carter's jaw was pressing on the cool, rough bricks. Carter heard the other man dumping out his bag.
"Hey..." the man trailed off.
"What?"
"This guy's a doctor!" The first man gave a hollow laugh.
"A doctor?" He grabbed the scruff of Carter's shirt and turned him around violently, pinning his back against the wall.
Carter could see his surroundings well, his eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness. His assailants both wore dark clothes, and ski masks. So cliché, he thought to himself. The man who had him pinned to the wall was of average height, perhaps an inch shorter than himself. The other man, the accomplice, crouched over Carter's bag, contents now spilled onto the ground. Carter saw that the man held his hospital ID tag in his hand, and both men were looking at him, expecting a response. He took a breath.
"Yes, I'm in emergency medicine," Carter choked out, trying not to lose his cool.
"And you got no cash?"
"Not on me, but--" Carter began, but was cut off by the first assailant roughly letting go of his shirt
"This is wack," said the second man. The first man stepped back a bit. Both men were still looking at Carter, as if trying to decide what to do with him.
"Let's get outta here," the first man said, turning to the other. "This is a waste of time." Carter let out an almost-audible sigh of relief. Instead of turning and leaving, however, the two looked at each other, and one of them picked something up. Carter couldn't exactly tell in the dim light of the alleyway, but the object was large and heavy-looking. The man approached Carter, the other one standing to make sure that Carter didn't get away somehow.
"Sorry, doc," the man said, in a mocking tone of voice. "We gotta make sure you don't talk, rat us out." He moved forward with the weapon.
Carter inhaled sharply, opening his mouth. He wanted to try to reason with the man, but by the time he had drawn breath, it was too late for that. The man stepped up to him and swung his arms.
Carter was blown back by a force that carried him to the ground. His head throbbed, his chest thudded as his body hit the cold concrete of the sidewalk. He knew nothing of his assailants, of the world, of life, as his world faded to blackness.
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"...Large bore IV, hook up some saline, get a banana bag, run a CBC, type and cross for two--"
"You want lytes?"
"Yeah, and get X-ray down here now."
"Call and set him up for a CT."
"Saline's up."
"How are his sats?"
"At 88 on 75% oxygen."
"You want to intubate?"
"No, crank up the O2 to 100%, he doesn't need a tube."
"You sure?"
"We aren't tubing him, dammit! Just crank up the O2."
The sounds of the chaos of a hospital flooded Carter's head as he began to come to. His head jerked involuntarily to the side and his eyes snapped open. Almost at once the voices of the doctors and nurses in the room ceased, Carter felt eyes on him. He blinked uncertainly in the bright light of the trauma room.
"Carter, can you hear me?" Carter's eyes flashed over to the familiar face of Susan Lewis standing over him, a concerned expression on her face.
"Susan?" he asked uncertainly. She nodded.
"John, do you remember what happened to you?" As she asked this, more images began to swim into his vision. He saw that both Gallant and Neela were in the room, as well as Chuny and Sam. All of them wore expressions of worry for him, the nurses bustling around, constantly taking his blod pressure, reading the beeping monitors.
"My head," was all that Carter could manage to say. Susan nodded.
"Yeah, you were hit pretty hard, blow to the temporal bone, looks like a fracture along the squamous suture. That looks like the only thing, really. Did you see the guys that hit you?" Susan asked all of this kindly, but with a sort of urgency in her voice. Carter's eyes rolled back into his head and he relaxed his muscles, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his head.
"I dunno," he said, feeling in too much pain to answer.
"Get him 200 of fentanol," Gallant said. Carter closed his eyes tightly.
"No," he said weakly, trying to infuse every bit of assertiveness he could into his voice. "No narcotics."
"But--" Gallant began, but Susan silenced him with a wave of her hand and Carter saw her give him a look.
"Aspirin, then," she said to Sam, who filled out the chart.
"X-ray's here," said Chuny, donning an X-ray-blocking apron and passing them out to the others in the room. Carter felt the heavy apron being laid over his waist. The X-rays were taken of his head, and sent to be developed.
"Dr. Lewis, he can go up to CT now, they are ready for him."
"Great," she said. She turned to Carter. "We need to take you up to CT to make sure that you don't have an intracranial bleed from the force of the impact. After that, we'll see. You should probably be fine down here, it depends on what the tests show."
"Dr. Lewis, there's an officer outside who wants to talk to him."
"Handle it, Neela, we're taking him up to CT now," Susan said as she folded up the rails on the gurney and he was prepped for transfer. Susan, Gallant and Chuny went with him to CT. When they got up to the room, Susan grabbed a syringe. She swabbed his upper arm with sterile alcohol, and prepared to inject the medication. Carter groaned in protest.
"It's just versed to relax you a bit," Susan reassured him. Carter nodded.
"Okay," he said. "See you when I wake up, I guess." She smiled at him.
"Of course," she said. "We can talk more later." With that, she injected the contents of the syringe. Almost immediately, the whiteness of the room faded to black, and he was out.
He wasn't sure how much later it was that he woke up. It was still dark outside of the window in the room, and he couldn't see a clock, as his watch had been removed and probably kept in a patient belongings bag. He heard a faint, steady beeping and knew that he was still on a monitor, from the looks of it, in the Intensive Care Unit. His room held another bed, but it was vacant.
All too suddenly, Carter became aware of the throbbing pain inside of his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, almost pressing his head further into the pillow, trying to will away the pain. He was almost sorry that he had requested no narcotic painkillers; this headache seemed to be eating the aspirin and Tylenol he received for breakfast. He knew, though, that in the long run, it was for the best. He didn't want to end up back in Atlanta, at the AA meetings, or worse, in the room next to his cousin's.
Blinking, he caught sight of a face, most likely a nurse, peeking in on him through a window. Carter had the sudden desire to pull the blinds shut on that window, for privacy's sake, but decided against it. He closed his eyes and, groaning, tried to find a comfortable way to relieve the stabbing pressure in his head.
Almost too soon after he closed his eyes to rest, Susan Lewis opened the door to the room to check up on him. She entered cautiously, wearing a small smile.
"You're awake," she said, coming closer to his bedside. He tried to return her grin, managing only a tiny shadow of a smile.
"I am now," he said, grunting softly against the pain.
"How are you feeling, Carter?"
"Well, considering that my skull's been smashed in by a couple of mugging thugs outside of my apartment building, and I haven't got the faintest clue how I even got back in here, I'm doing well for the circumstances." Susan nodded slowly, taking all of this into consideration.
"Well, your skull hasn't been smashed, if it's any consolation. You do have a small, incomplete fracture in your left temporal lobe, and there's some trauma to the squamous suture of the skull, but you are going to be fine. The CT showed no subdural hemorrhage," she explained to him. Carter nodded slowly.
"I'm glad that it was minimal, but this still hurts like hell." Susan sighed softly.
"I wish that we could give you more for the pain, but since you denied the narcotics, there's not a lot that I can give you. You'll have to tough it out with the weak stuff." Carter nodded slowly, a bit disappointed. He knew that it was for the best.
"How long am I in here for?"
"A couple of days," she said. Carter groaned.
"Days? I can't be in here for days! I have a shift tomorrow!" Susan gave him a laughing smile. "What?"
"It is tomorrow, Carter," she snorted. Carter frowned.
"What time is it?"
"About 4:30 in the morning," she said, taking her penlight and stepping closer to his bedside. She checked his pupils quickly and shut off the light. "Your eyes look good."
"Good. So did you find anything else wrong?"
"Not really," said Susan, shaking her head. "You're going to have a pretty big bruise on your head where you were hit, and there are a couple of lacerations on your forehead and such from when you fell. That's all that we found, though." Carter nodded his head in response to this.
"Okay," he said. He tried to sit up a little, but he felt blood rushing to his head, and the throbbing pain, which he had forgotten about for a little while, returned. Susan helped to steady him, and he laid back down.
"Hold on, you have to take it easy for a while. No sudden, drastic movements or you'll get thrown off balance." She took a hard look at him, and pulled up a chair by the bedside, sitting down. "The temporal bone is so thin, it's a good thing hat it didn't shatter at that impact. You were lucky, Carter."
"I know," he said, looking around the room, anywhere but at his friend. He had heard those words before, while in a hospital. "So where am I, exactly?"
"You're up in medicine, you'll be fine, off the monitors, hopefully, by noon. After that, it's all about observation. You should be okay, though, I wouldn't worry too much." Carter nodded. It was good news, overall.
"How did I get here?" Susan exhaled quickly.
"That's a different story," she said.
"I'd like to hear it."
"Okay, okay," she continued. "A couple of teenage girls found you. One of them said she recognized you from the hospital. They called the police and the medics, and you were brought here. It was kind of scary, having to work on you. Gallant was pretty nervous, he didn't want to screw anything up. The girls stuck around with you until the ambulance came, the police made them give their names, and they were free to go." She looked at Carter. "That's the story. Anything else you want to know?" Carter shook his head.
"Nope, that's all." He said. He looked up at her. "Thanks, Susan."
"No problem. It is my job, after all."
"When are you off?"
"Off at six, I'll probably come back and check up on you before I go home, though." Carter shook his head.
"You don't have to do that."
"But I want to. You'll probably be asleep anyway." Carter gave a shallow laugh.
"I hope so, anything to get rid of this killer headache." Susan laughed.
"Alright, I'm leaving. Sleep well, Carter." She stood up and she turned to leave, throwing him a small smile before she turned and walked out of the room.
Carter watched her walk out the door, as much as he could from a hospital bed. With nothing to take his mind off of it, the throbbing pain in his head returned. He lifted his arm and gingerly touched his left temple. A sudden, fiery pain shot through his skull, making him want to cry out in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, immediately withdrawing his hand and letting it fall to his side.
Wishing that the lights in the room were dimmer, he fell into an uncomfortable sleep.
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So that's all for chapter 11!
Sorry to all of my readers for the delay on this chapter. I have been away for the last two weeks, not getting home until 8:30 at night, then it's homework and bed, the same thing all over again the next day. Why, do you ask? I am really involved with my school's drama club, and I recently played Celia in the Shakespeare play As You Like It.
Anyway, here's the chapter.
Coming in Chapter 12...we are on the brink of a revelation (it's coming, I promise!)
Toodles,
Snapdragon
Sorry to keep you all waiting, here's chapter 11!
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SAVING GRACE—CHAPTER 11
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Carter left County that night at around eight O'clock, the memory of a smile on his lips. Though the two kids were only 5 and 8 years old, he'd genuinely had a good time playing cards with them. It had been a lot of fun, really. Grace had picked up the concept of Bluff, the card game, pretty quickly, and they had a great game before Amanda won. After that, they had had some more fun with the cards, playing rounds of Cray Eights and Egyptian Corkscrew, having a blast. Carter hardly even remembered the time until Nurse Lorraine came back to bring in evening meals for Grace and Amanda.
So with that, Carter said good-bye and left, promising to come back the next day. Amanda and her mother said goodbye, as Grace looked a little upset at his having to leave. She said farewell, but still wished to have company.
Carter thought, as he made his way up the staircase to the El platform that maybe having Amanda Boatsman with her in the room was not having a good effect on her attitude. Even though Grace and Amanda got along beautifully, Carter thought that the former could be having slight jealousy problems. Amanda's parents and brother came by a lot; the child was rarely left alone except at night and for short periods during the day. Grace received, by far, the most visitors, they usually didn't stay for longer than 10 or 15 minutes.
It seemed as though everyone on the hospital staff now officially knew that Grace was Lucy Knight's daughter. Most of the people at County had at least heard of Lucy, and her tragic death. As with any good bit of juicy gossip, the staff had felt the need to investigate for themselves. It had started just the day before, but one of the pediatric nurses had said that she saw doctors and nurses creeping by the window into room 512 where Grace resided. They stayed for a few seconds, typically; glanced into the room, goggling as if the child were in a zoo; and whispering to one another, being gossipy as usual.
Grace Knight was indeed a major topic of conversation and hospital gossip. People muttered constantly under their breaths, about where she came from, what she was like, where she would end up in the end. But most of all, they whispered about who her father was.
They spoke constantly, debating about who it could be, talking as if every man in Chicago, let alone the entire United States, could potentially be the father.
And Carter hated it.
He hated how they spoke as if Lucy had been the med school slut between her shifts. It wasn't as if she had been the kind of person to sleep around either. She had, after all, had a steady relationship at the time. He hated how everyone was now going to remember her like this, rather than as the great medical student and caring person that she was. He hated, more than anything else, though, the strange, suspicious glances that people threw him constantly.
And it was all because of the Exam 6 ordeal.
They all seemed to forget, though, that Lucy had been involved with what Carter understood to be a serious relationship with Dale, the surgical resident.
Dale had never specified whether he and Lucy had slept together. Carter harbored a suspicion that they hadn't, but he was never quite certain.
And he never could be.
Carter heard the wind rushing and the sound of the train coming down the tracks, slowing to a stop. The doors whooshed open, and Carter stepped onto the train, taking a seat before the vehicle began to move again. The doors closed, and they lurched forward.
He looked around the train for a moment. It was nearly barren, save for a small cluster of Japanese men, an elderly couple and a mother with her three children. Carter turned his head, resting it on the cool glass of the window as he looked out into the sunset. The El picked up speed. Carter closed his eyes for a moment.
He still wondered whether she had told him that she was pregnant. He suspected that she hadn't, because had that been the case, the small child wouldn't have journeyed to find her father. Instead, Carter thought, Dale would have claimed custody of the child and raised her as her father.
Obviously, that had not happened.
As Carter gazed out of the window at the moving scenery, he remembered a conversation that he had had with Lucy on the roof of County General. Of course, they'd had several chats,, but he remembered all of them, especially this particular one.
It had been after an elderly man tried to shoot and kill his wife. Lucy had discovered the gunshot wound, others having mistaken it for a bedsore. Carter and Lucy had sat up on the roof that night, sharing a cup of coffee. They had been talking about the elderly couple's marriage, the subject soon turning to marriage in general.
"I never thought much on getting married," she had told him. "I think my problem is that because I was raised by such a strong, capable single mom that I don't really see the need for a partner at all."
Her voice still echoed, slightly dimmed, in his head. He remembered telling her that he would eventually like to have a lasting relationship, if he could find that special someone.
That certainly never happened. Nobody after Lucy had worked out, though Abby came a close match.
As the train slowed to a stop at Carter's stop, he stood, slinging his leather bag over his shoulder and stepping off of the train. He paused a moment to breathe, turning his head, before starting down the platform and descending the stairs to the street.
It was dusk now. The sun had set just enough that the sky wasn't completely dark, but there were certain areas on the street that were dark, because of shadows cast by buildings. He had five blocks to walk, but he didn't care. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and continued down the sidewalk.
He couldn't recall exactly why his relationship with Abby hadn't worked out. The two of them had been great friends before they were lovers. That was the best thing two people in a relationship could hope for. He had trusted her, still did, actually.
Carter was grateful to her for helping him through the aftermath of the attack, guiding him through drug rehab and becoming his AA sponsor. He had confided in her, and still did, for many things. Abby had only wanted to help him, to keep him from more pain. That was evident the day that Paul Sobriki came back to the ER at County over two years after the attack.
Abby had recognized him right away, had asked to put him into hard restraints. Susan had felt it extreme, but she hadn't known. How could she have known? Abby had tried to stall for time, tried to keep Carter away from him. But it had happened anyway, the inevitable meeting.
Carter was sickened by the thought of speaking with that man, trying to be civil. He wanted to shout, wanted to knock the no-good son of a out of his gurney and straight onto the floor. But Sobriki had been lucid, had seemed to be nonviolent at the time, giving Carter no reason at all to hurt him.
So Carter had stood there, in front of the man who made his life a living Hell for so long, the man who killed Lucy, took a mother from her child forever, and all he could do was move his mouth soundlessly and hope to get away as soon as possible. And he had gone, as if in a trance, down the hallway to the restroom, and he had vomited.
Carter walked on, shaking his head briefly, still in thought. It was ironic, really, how things worked out. Paul Sobriki, who had slaughtered one and brutally attacked another, was now on release, probably out by now. He was married to a nice woman and they had a daughter.
Sobriki was living a normal, happy life. Carter, on the other hand, had been robbed of one of the best friends and most wonderful women he'd ever met, as well as stabbed and traumatized himself. He had been driven to drugs, and all because he had tried to help a patient; to do his job.
What a wonderful world. Whoever had said "what goes around, comes around," was certainly mislead.
Carter stepped under the light of a street lamp, into its yellow glow. The night was cool, as it should be, being autumn. Winter was fast approaching, he could feel it in the breeze. He stepped into the darkness again. He had only three blocks left to walk to his apartment building, and he walked quickly.
His footsteps pattered on the concrete of the sidewalk. He walked on a normal city road, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement seemed to be echoing more than was normal. As he turned the corner onto Santa Anita road, a force knocked him off of his feet.
Carter's bag was yanked forcefully out of his grip, and a pair of rough hands grabbed the collar of his coat, forcing him face-first into the brick side of a building. Carter pressed his cheek against the wall, trying not to speak out or make any sudden moves. He couldn't tell if his attacker had a weapon or not, and he didn't want to risk any serious injury. His face was pressed harder into the wall, a foot pressed on his lower back.
"Think about screaming for help," said a gruff, muffled voice, "And you're dead where you stand. Kapishe?"
Carter tried to swallow, and almost choked on his tongue. He finally gathered his breath enough to speak.
"Clear," he confirmed to the man. He kept his voice as low as he could.
"Good, and no ratting to the police," came a different voice. This one sounded as if the man speaking was speaking nasally, and was slightly more high-pitched. Carter heard a muffled thud and a gasp of pain; presumably, the first man had kicked the second one.
Carter felt a sudden pang of pain in his back, reminiscent of the stab wound he had received years ago. That was still a rough pressure point for him, and the pain at that moment made him want to collapse. He gasped as quietly as he could, which was difficult.
"What?" he heard the second man mock him. "Are we hurting you?" Carter bit his tongue and didn't answer.
"C'mon, let's do this. Maybe he'll have enough cash on him for a decent bit of meth."
"I'll check his bag."
"You," the first man said to Carter. "Turn out your pockets."
Carter still had his face against the wall, but his hands were free then to move toward his pockets. He turned them out slowly. He heard coins clinking on the sidewalk of the poorly lit alley as the change from his lunch in the cafeteria fell out of the pocket. Out of the other came fluttering two bits of paper: a receipt from something Carter couldn't remember, and a thank-you note from a patient, scrawled with pen on a napkin. Carter felt the man's grip on him loosen as he bent down to pick the things up.
Carter thought about running right then, when the guard was down. He guessed that the other man was maybe 15 or 20 feet from him, going through his bag. He could hit the first guy and bolt before the other knew what was even going on. But he didn't know if either of the men had a gun, and he didn't want to risk being shot. He decided not to do anything stupid.
"There's nothing useful in here, all this guy has is 25 bucks," the second man said, his footsteps approaching nearer to his accomplice. "There's no credit cards, nothing. There's one key, no car keys..."
"Well duh, if the guy had a car, he wouldn't be wandering out here at night, would he?" The first man straightened up and regained his strong hold on Carter, shoving him further into the wall. Carter's jaw was pressing on the cool, rough bricks. Carter heard the other man dumping out his bag.
"Hey..." the man trailed off.
"What?"
"This guy's a doctor!" The first man gave a hollow laugh.
"A doctor?" He grabbed the scruff of Carter's shirt and turned him around violently, pinning his back against the wall.
Carter could see his surroundings well, his eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness. His assailants both wore dark clothes, and ski masks. So cliché, he thought to himself. The man who had him pinned to the wall was of average height, perhaps an inch shorter than himself. The other man, the accomplice, crouched over Carter's bag, contents now spilled onto the ground. Carter saw that the man held his hospital ID tag in his hand, and both men were looking at him, expecting a response. He took a breath.
"Yes, I'm in emergency medicine," Carter choked out, trying not to lose his cool.
"And you got no cash?"
"Not on me, but--" Carter began, but was cut off by the first assailant roughly letting go of his shirt
"This is wack," said the second man. The first man stepped back a bit. Both men were still looking at Carter, as if trying to decide what to do with him.
"Let's get outta here," the first man said, turning to the other. "This is a waste of time." Carter let out an almost-audible sigh of relief. Instead of turning and leaving, however, the two looked at each other, and one of them picked something up. Carter couldn't exactly tell in the dim light of the alleyway, but the object was large and heavy-looking. The man approached Carter, the other one standing to make sure that Carter didn't get away somehow.
"Sorry, doc," the man said, in a mocking tone of voice. "We gotta make sure you don't talk, rat us out." He moved forward with the weapon.
Carter inhaled sharply, opening his mouth. He wanted to try to reason with the man, but by the time he had drawn breath, it was too late for that. The man stepped up to him and swung his arms.
Carter was blown back by a force that carried him to the ground. His head throbbed, his chest thudded as his body hit the cold concrete of the sidewalk. He knew nothing of his assailants, of the world, of life, as his world faded to blackness.
************
"...Large bore IV, hook up some saline, get a banana bag, run a CBC, type and cross for two--"
"You want lytes?"
"Yeah, and get X-ray down here now."
"Call and set him up for a CT."
"Saline's up."
"How are his sats?"
"At 88 on 75% oxygen."
"You want to intubate?"
"No, crank up the O2 to 100%, he doesn't need a tube."
"You sure?"
"We aren't tubing him, dammit! Just crank up the O2."
The sounds of the chaos of a hospital flooded Carter's head as he began to come to. His head jerked involuntarily to the side and his eyes snapped open. Almost at once the voices of the doctors and nurses in the room ceased, Carter felt eyes on him. He blinked uncertainly in the bright light of the trauma room.
"Carter, can you hear me?" Carter's eyes flashed over to the familiar face of Susan Lewis standing over him, a concerned expression on her face.
"Susan?" he asked uncertainly. She nodded.
"John, do you remember what happened to you?" As she asked this, more images began to swim into his vision. He saw that both Gallant and Neela were in the room, as well as Chuny and Sam. All of them wore expressions of worry for him, the nurses bustling around, constantly taking his blod pressure, reading the beeping monitors.
"My head," was all that Carter could manage to say. Susan nodded.
"Yeah, you were hit pretty hard, blow to the temporal bone, looks like a fracture along the squamous suture. That looks like the only thing, really. Did you see the guys that hit you?" Susan asked all of this kindly, but with a sort of urgency in her voice. Carter's eyes rolled back into his head and he relaxed his muscles, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his head.
"I dunno," he said, feeling in too much pain to answer.
"Get him 200 of fentanol," Gallant said. Carter closed his eyes tightly.
"No," he said weakly, trying to infuse every bit of assertiveness he could into his voice. "No narcotics."
"But--" Gallant began, but Susan silenced him with a wave of her hand and Carter saw her give him a look.
"Aspirin, then," she said to Sam, who filled out the chart.
"X-ray's here," said Chuny, donning an X-ray-blocking apron and passing them out to the others in the room. Carter felt the heavy apron being laid over his waist. The X-rays were taken of his head, and sent to be developed.
"Dr. Lewis, he can go up to CT now, they are ready for him."
"Great," she said. She turned to Carter. "We need to take you up to CT to make sure that you don't have an intracranial bleed from the force of the impact. After that, we'll see. You should probably be fine down here, it depends on what the tests show."
"Dr. Lewis, there's an officer outside who wants to talk to him."
"Handle it, Neela, we're taking him up to CT now," Susan said as she folded up the rails on the gurney and he was prepped for transfer. Susan, Gallant and Chuny went with him to CT. When they got up to the room, Susan grabbed a syringe. She swabbed his upper arm with sterile alcohol, and prepared to inject the medication. Carter groaned in protest.
"It's just versed to relax you a bit," Susan reassured him. Carter nodded.
"Okay," he said. "See you when I wake up, I guess." She smiled at him.
"Of course," she said. "We can talk more later." With that, she injected the contents of the syringe. Almost immediately, the whiteness of the room faded to black, and he was out.
He wasn't sure how much later it was that he woke up. It was still dark outside of the window in the room, and he couldn't see a clock, as his watch had been removed and probably kept in a patient belongings bag. He heard a faint, steady beeping and knew that he was still on a monitor, from the looks of it, in the Intensive Care Unit. His room held another bed, but it was vacant.
All too suddenly, Carter became aware of the throbbing pain inside of his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, almost pressing his head further into the pillow, trying to will away the pain. He was almost sorry that he had requested no narcotic painkillers; this headache seemed to be eating the aspirin and Tylenol he received for breakfast. He knew, though, that in the long run, it was for the best. He didn't want to end up back in Atlanta, at the AA meetings, or worse, in the room next to his cousin's.
Blinking, he caught sight of a face, most likely a nurse, peeking in on him through a window. Carter had the sudden desire to pull the blinds shut on that window, for privacy's sake, but decided against it. He closed his eyes and, groaning, tried to find a comfortable way to relieve the stabbing pressure in his head.
Almost too soon after he closed his eyes to rest, Susan Lewis opened the door to the room to check up on him. She entered cautiously, wearing a small smile.
"You're awake," she said, coming closer to his bedside. He tried to return her grin, managing only a tiny shadow of a smile.
"I am now," he said, grunting softly against the pain.
"How are you feeling, Carter?"
"Well, considering that my skull's been smashed in by a couple of mugging thugs outside of my apartment building, and I haven't got the faintest clue how I even got back in here, I'm doing well for the circumstances." Susan nodded slowly, taking all of this into consideration.
"Well, your skull hasn't been smashed, if it's any consolation. You do have a small, incomplete fracture in your left temporal lobe, and there's some trauma to the squamous suture of the skull, but you are going to be fine. The CT showed no subdural hemorrhage," she explained to him. Carter nodded slowly.
"I'm glad that it was minimal, but this still hurts like hell." Susan sighed softly.
"I wish that we could give you more for the pain, but since you denied the narcotics, there's not a lot that I can give you. You'll have to tough it out with the weak stuff." Carter nodded slowly, a bit disappointed. He knew that it was for the best.
"How long am I in here for?"
"A couple of days," she said. Carter groaned.
"Days? I can't be in here for days! I have a shift tomorrow!" Susan gave him a laughing smile. "What?"
"It is tomorrow, Carter," she snorted. Carter frowned.
"What time is it?"
"About 4:30 in the morning," she said, taking her penlight and stepping closer to his bedside. She checked his pupils quickly and shut off the light. "Your eyes look good."
"Good. So did you find anything else wrong?"
"Not really," said Susan, shaking her head. "You're going to have a pretty big bruise on your head where you were hit, and there are a couple of lacerations on your forehead and such from when you fell. That's all that we found, though." Carter nodded his head in response to this.
"Okay," he said. He tried to sit up a little, but he felt blood rushing to his head, and the throbbing pain, which he had forgotten about for a little while, returned. Susan helped to steady him, and he laid back down.
"Hold on, you have to take it easy for a while. No sudden, drastic movements or you'll get thrown off balance." She took a hard look at him, and pulled up a chair by the bedside, sitting down. "The temporal bone is so thin, it's a good thing hat it didn't shatter at that impact. You were lucky, Carter."
"I know," he said, looking around the room, anywhere but at his friend. He had heard those words before, while in a hospital. "So where am I, exactly?"
"You're up in medicine, you'll be fine, off the monitors, hopefully, by noon. After that, it's all about observation. You should be okay, though, I wouldn't worry too much." Carter nodded. It was good news, overall.
"How did I get here?" Susan exhaled quickly.
"That's a different story," she said.
"I'd like to hear it."
"Okay, okay," she continued. "A couple of teenage girls found you. One of them said she recognized you from the hospital. They called the police and the medics, and you were brought here. It was kind of scary, having to work on you. Gallant was pretty nervous, he didn't want to screw anything up. The girls stuck around with you until the ambulance came, the police made them give their names, and they were free to go." She looked at Carter. "That's the story. Anything else you want to know?" Carter shook his head.
"Nope, that's all." He said. He looked up at her. "Thanks, Susan."
"No problem. It is my job, after all."
"When are you off?"
"Off at six, I'll probably come back and check up on you before I go home, though." Carter shook his head.
"You don't have to do that."
"But I want to. You'll probably be asleep anyway." Carter gave a shallow laugh.
"I hope so, anything to get rid of this killer headache." Susan laughed.
"Alright, I'm leaving. Sleep well, Carter." She stood up and she turned to leave, throwing him a small smile before she turned and walked out of the room.
Carter watched her walk out the door, as much as he could from a hospital bed. With nothing to take his mind off of it, the throbbing pain in his head returned. He lifted his arm and gingerly touched his left temple. A sudden, fiery pain shot through his skull, making him want to cry out in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, immediately withdrawing his hand and letting it fall to his side.
Wishing that the lights in the room were dimmer, he fell into an uncomfortable sleep.
********************************************************
So that's all for chapter 11!
Sorry to all of my readers for the delay on this chapter. I have been away for the last two weeks, not getting home until 8:30 at night, then it's homework and bed, the same thing all over again the next day. Why, do you ask? I am really involved with my school's drama club, and I recently played Celia in the Shakespeare play As You Like It.
Anyway, here's the chapter.
Coming in Chapter 12...we are on the brink of a revelation (it's coming, I promise!)
Toodles,
Snapdragon