Chapter Thirteen

Six Weeks after the Accident

The helicopter whirred and cut through the bright California morning. It had been a long trip…from Phoenix to Los Angeles. He was tired. Despite his improving health, he still experienced fatigued easily. He tried to make himself more comfortable on the gurney…to no avail.

He still wasn't sure how he was alive…why he was alive…The truth was, he didn't remember a whole lot of anything. He remembered he was thinking about Jordan…and when he looked up, all he saw was red brake lights. He had practically stood up on his brakes, trying to get his Honda Civic to stop before it rear ended the car in front of him, but he couldn't. His air bag had deployed. He had gotten out of his car… smelled gasoline and knew what that might mean… He had tried run to the cars nearest the tanker to see if he could get anyone out. The next thing he heard was an explosion that had nearly rendered him deaf. After that, he remembered nothing….until he woke up in the burn unit of Phoenix Memorial Hospital three weeks later. And even then they hadn't been too certain he was going to make it.

Like most burn victims, his prognosis was minute by minute…sometimes second by second. He went into cardiac arrest four times, and each time he was brought back. He wasn't quite sure why the powers that be were calling him back…back to reality…back to life. The doctors in the burn unit worked with him…and finally got him stabilized. When he somewhat regained consciousness, they asked him his name…his vocal chords had been so damaged by the heat and smoke he couldn't reply. He was so badly burned, they couldn't get a print and his condition was too risky to push making an ID, and the fire had burned nearly all his clothing off…including the wallet that held his drivers license and police identification. "Let's get him to the LA burn unit and see what they can do for him…we'll give the good news to his family later," the head of the Phoenix hospital said.

And he still couldn't talk… he knew who he was…but couldn't make it known. The burns covered more than sixty percent of his body, most of them being third degree. He had met the blast nearly head on. He had no idea what he now looked like underneath the bandages…he really didn't want to know.

What he did want to know…needed to know…was did Jordan know he was alive? Did she care? The pain overcame him one more time….and unconsciousness took him.

Was it days or weeks later he opened his eyes…he wasn't sure. What he was certain about was that there was a pretty, blonde nurse by his side checking his vitals. "You're awake," she said. She buzzed for the doctor, while still talking with him. "You've been out for a while. We didn't know if we were going to lose you or not. Good to have you back with us."

The doctor came into his room then. He looked over the chart that the nurse had filled in, then looked under the bandages on his legs and chest. "Hmmmm. You're a very lucky man, sir. Most folks wouldn't have survived this…and you nearly didn't…several times. But I think you're going to make it now. You'll live. And lucky for you, you're here….we've got one of the best burn units in the world. You're probably going to have to learn to walk and do most other things all over again, but in the end, you'll never know you were this badly burnt. No one will. We also have one of the best reconstructive units in the world, too. By the time we're done, no one will know this happened to you…I promise.

But it's going to take time…maybe up to a year. And you're going to have to work hard. Harder than you've ever worked before at anything. Can you do this, son?"

Woody nodded.

"Is there anyone we need to contact for you? I'm afraid that you may have been put on the list of deceased from this accident. If there's family we need to contact, let us know…it will make their day."

Woody thought for a minute. His mom and dad were dead. Cal didn't need this right now...Jordan? He swallowed hard. She had said it was over, even if her last kiss had told him something entirely different. She had probably already been contacted and told he was dead…especially if they found his car burnt up…It had been nearly two months now after the accident…he still had so much to do. If she found out, he knew she wouldn't think twice about hopping a plane and coming to him…staying with him until he got better.

For what? To proceed with the divorce? He wasn't sure. But he did know he didn't want to disrupt her life again. She was in Phoenix and doing well.

He shook his head no.

The drugs were endless. It seemed they were always looking for a place to hook up another IV. The antibiotics they gave him to ward off infection made him nauseous. The pain killers they gave him made him sleepy. The constant changing of the bandages wore on his ultra-sensitive nerve endings.

But slowly, he made progress…each day got a little better. Finally, one morning, nearly three months after the accident, the doctor asked him if he could tell them who he was. Hesitantly, with a voice that was gruffer than he had ever known himself to have, he managed to get out, "W…w…Woody Hoyt."

The doctor scanned the list of DOA's from the accident. "Mr. Hoyt…you're listed on the roster of victims from this accident. Isn't there anyone we need to contact to let them know you're not dead?"

Woody thought for a minute….and nodded. "Y…y….y….yeah. Peter Brannigan."

"Where's Mr. Brannigan at?'

"LAPD – Sunny D."

The doctor gave him a quizzical look, and nodded to the nurse, who picked up the phone and requested an outside line. "What do you want me to tell Mr. Brannigan?" the doctor asked.

"Tell him…..I need to see him…Now."