I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. In defense of Mr. Wonka, I have, in fact, received both a set of knives and a butane torch for my birthday a few years ago – and love both! Very trusting, my hubby… – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 68
Muffled voices wobbled painfully through Charlie's head. He was lying uncomfortably on something and someone was feeling his neck. His nose burned with the smell of smoke and some sort of sharp chemical smell…like cat pee or something similarly unpleasant.
Mr. Wonka doesn't allow pets, Charlie thought, confused.
Someone was calling his name from far away.
"Aw...Mum! Let me sleep in a few more minutes…," he mumbled thickly.
Why was it so hard to wake up? He was normally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as soon as his eyes were open in the morning.
Why would I have a bushy tail?
Ah…his eyes weren't open. There was the problem.
With great effort, he managed to open his eyes.
Reggie was crouched next to him. He realized at that point he was lying on the stairwell and made a move to sit upright. The man gently held him down, 'Don't move Charlie – help is on the way."
Reggie sounded as if he was trying to speak through layers of thick cotton wool.
"Did I fall down the stairs?" Charlie asked, glad not to have to move. He ached all over and his throat felt rough. He also smelled smoke.
"No. Just lie back," Reggie said, trying to smile through pinched lips.
"Where's Willy?" Charlie asked, a memory trying to bat through his confusion.
Spencer appeared in his field of view, holding a cordless phone to one ear, "They're on the way. Where's Willy?"
Reggie leaned over to say something to Spencer in a low voice, but Charlie couldn't hear through the high-pitched ringing and cotton wool that muffled his hearing.
Spencer nodded and gave Charlie a bright smile that was all too similar to his mentors when nervous, "Right then, I'm staying with you for right now Charlie while Reggie goes and takes care of Willy. We're waiting for the EMTs to come check you out."
Reggie grabbed what looked like a small gym bag and stepped over Charlie's prone form on the staircase to climb the short flight of stairs to the rooftop.
Charlie dared to angle his head to watch his progress. Reggie was grim faced as he approached the steel door. Pushing against it, the door creaked and groaned but refused to open. Leaning back, Reggie kicked the door open with a squeal of protesting metal about a third of the way and another heavy kick opened it the rest of the way letting in a bright band of sunlight and a thick cloud of black smoke.
"Willy?" he heard Reggie call from outside.
Charlie turned toward Spencer anxious, "What happened? What's burning? Where's Willy?"
Spencer took Charlie's hand carefully and patted it soothingly, "Just relax and try not to move. I'll tell you when after you take a deep breath and calm down."
Charlie gritted his teeth in frustration and fear, but forced himself to take the deep breath, feeling a deep ache in his chest as he did so.
"We're not sure what happened. We heard the door open, you two were talking and then there was an explosion. We think that you got thrown down the stairs by the blast. Reggie's looking for Willy now," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Charlie gasped and tried to push himself up, "Willy!"
"Lay back – you might have a snapped neck or back. Wait until they look you over…" Spencer protested.
Charlie ignored him and managed to roll over and start to scramble up the stairs. His shoulder protested the movement and he almost threw up, but got upright to stagger up the stairs.
Spencer wrapped an arm around his waist, "Here, settle down. You'll hurt yourself worse."
The gentle man helped Charlie up the stairs, and they both coughed as they passed through the smoke. Sirens wailed in the distance steadily growing closer and a variety of car alarms surrounding them set up an aural cacophony.
An amazing amount of tiny fragments of glass were scattered around the rooftop and the smoke was coming from a twisted chunk of blackened metal about the size of big dog laying against the blackened brick of the building edge. Several other chunks of metal were scattered around a blackened hole in the roof. They crept closer and could actually look down into the apartment below. No one shouted at them in protest or agony so Charlie supposed no one was home.
Charlie's hearing was coming back, and he could hear the excited shouts of people below and the sirens grew clearer.
There was a groan from behind them and Charlie heard Reggie say, "Don't move you daft man, or you'll risk opening an artery."
Charlie whirled.
Next to the stair house on the roof, he could see Reggie's back poking out and Willy's boots, lying prone, protruding beyond them.
Charlie felt tears well up as his body went cold. He couldn't catch his breath and he realized he was panting and making small noises of distress.
Willy was hurt.
Spencer helped him over to where Reggie was working on his mentor.
Willy's wide violet eyes were open, but blank. Small cuts across the right side of his face added vivid splashes of color to the ghastly white skin. Bloody clumps of his hair clung to the side of his head and face. A small trail of blood from both his ears trailed backward to disappear into the dark auburn hair.
Reggie was focusing his attention on Willy's torso. There Charlie could see blood soaking through the thick material of the coat, making a mockery of the rich color by darkening patches of the vital fluid. Reggie had torn the jacket sleeve free to work on putting pressure on free-bleeding open wound.
"Willy?" Charlie pleaded, looking to the man for some sort of response. He wanted…no, needed…Willy to sit up in his usual chipper manner and make some comment about 'fine-tuning' the Wonkavator. Willy needed to magically banish the horror of this situation to the status of a mere nightmare to wake up from and laugh over while sharing a cup of hot chocolate.
But Willy didn't move, beyond a slow blink.
"Stay with me you bastard," Reggie growled, pressing a large wad of gauze into the wound and pressing his weight onto the wound.
Willy groaned again and managed to whisper, "Language…"
Charlie sagged in relief at his mentor's voice and tears started to stream down his face.
They heard multiple footsteps clattering up the staircase as the rescue crew arrived. Two EMTs guided a stretcher holding a large tackle box of medical equipment over to them.
"There was an explosion. They were heading back down the stairs when it happened. Charlie was behind the door and the blast knocked the door shut and him down the stairs. Mr. Wonka caught the worst of his injuries along his shoulder and back. One bleeder on the shoulder – I applied sterile gauze and pressure but haven't had the chance to check him out fully," Reggie reported, shifting to let one of the EMTs take over holding pressure on the wound on Willy's shoulder.
"You're kidding? Willy Wonka? Boy, this just gets better and better…" the man muttered, lifting the bandage briefly to inspect the wound.
Another team arrived and swarmed around Charlie, shining a light into his eyes, poking and prodding painfully and listening to his chest with a stethoscope all while asking questions. He must have lost track of things for a while because the next thing he realized, he was strapped into a stretcher being carried down the stairs and out the front door with an IV plugged into one arm without him even feeling it.
A large crowd had gathered behind police barricades and the flashing lights from all the police, fire and emergency vehicles were giving Charlie a headache. The crowd was oddly quiet, except for quiet respectful mummer as they watched Charlie get wheeled into the ambulance.
During the entire progress, Spencer had never let go of his hand.
"Where are you taking him?" he asked to the driver.
"St. Mary's – they've got a good trauma unit. Don't worry, we'll take good care of him," the man assured him.
"Charlie. They're taking you to St. Mary's. I'm going to call your parents and let them know what happened so they can meet you there," Spencer said, letting go of his hand and patting it reassuringly.
"What about Willy?" the teenager asked his dark eyes wide and dazed.
"I'll find out and have your parents pass it on. Worry about yourself for now. I need you to focus on getting better so you can trip the light fantastic with your lovely Miss Meggan. D'you hear?" Spencer said firmly, giving Charlie a tight grin.
The EMT injected something into the IV port as the doors shut, "Here, this will help you relax for now."
Charlie knew no more.
--
"Keep working!" Veronica called to her team moving around her kitchen with hard won choreography. Sandra and Michelle bumped into each other, nearly dropping the frozen tray of whipped mousse.
Veronica rolled her eyes but kept quiet as yelling at them wouldn't help anything.
Neville hummed under his breath as he worked, pureeing raspberries for his dessert in time with the music. Sandra grinned at him as she recognized the song and added a beat as she kneaded – slamming the dough in time and hummed along, both now bopping their heads in time with the tune.
Veronica felt her smile grow as she worked on her design on paper. It was a catchy song with a shameless beat.
Michelle, straight-edge and proper Michelle…she broke out into the first verse with a strong alto as she viciously pounded out the blocks of chocolate she needed for melting down. Veronica was pleasantly surprised, who knew the heart of a rebel lurked under all that Old Navy clothing?
She joined in on the chorus, and made a startling observation. No one was crashing into anyone else, no one was getting into someone else's supply and when they did have to move past one another, it was more along the lines of a dance move than an awkward shuffle.
The phone rang and she grabbed it without a second thought, "Hello?"
"Veronica?" came Reggie's worried voice.
"Yes? What's the matter you sound upset?" Veronica asked, plugging her other ear to hear her brother better.
"Something's happened," Reggie said hesitantly and she felt her heart freeze in her chest.
"Are you and Spencer alright?" she asked, leaning against the wall to support her weak knees.
"Yeah, we're fine – but Willy and Charlie were here for a visit. They were on their way out when there was an explosion on the roof …"
Veronica dropped the phone with a cry, sliding down the floor, both hands clenched over her mouth as involuntary tears started down her cheeks.
It was as if the world had paused around her – the questioning looks of her team, the setting sun outside the window, the sweet smells of cooking all impressing themselves on her mind as the single worst moment of her life.
Sick horror and disbelief rocketed through her and she felt like she was going to throw up, pass out or both as the thought of losing Willy hit her hard.
Sandra rushed over in concern, "Veronica?"
Shaking her head, Veronica scrabbled for the phone with shaking hands.
"How bad are they hurt?" she croaked, terrified that he'd tell her the worst.
"I don't know. Charlie's parents are on their way and I wanted to let you know so we can pick you up on the way. We'll be there in 10 minutes."
"I'll be ready. Thanks Reggie," she said numbly and hung up.
"Oh God!" she whimpered, curling into a ball of utter misery and sobbing. Willy was hurt! Charlie – that sweet innocent kid was hurt too! How could this have happened?
"What's going on?" asked Sandra's no-nonsense tones.
"Willy and Charlie were hurt in some sort of explosion at my brother's building. They're picking me up on the way to the hospital in a couple of minutes," Veronica managed between sobs.
"Oh dear! Right, well you get your bag and coat. Neville? Be a dear and start getting things shut down. Michelle, could you lob that roll of dough into the freezer for me. We need to get out of here so Veronica can concentrate on her young man," the older woman calmly ordered her colleagues, keeping an eye on the shattered woman.
"What if he's….if he…" Veronica whispered, eyes locked on some terrible inner vision. There was no way she could keep going if Willy was gone forever – she wouldn't want to.
"Stop that right now. No use worrying about what might be when you're not even sure what's going on," Sandra said, clasping the younger woman's hands in her own and meeting her shocked eyes.
"Don't worry about things here. Just let us know what's going on when you get more information. You need to be with your man right now," Sandra said in a low tone, pitched to her ears alone, stroked Veronica's engagement ring with a knowing finger, "No matter what happens."
Veronica nodded, and shakily pushed herself to her feet, "Thank you."
Neville handed her the keys, "We'll lock up on the way out. Good luck kiddo."
Veronica grabbed her beat up wool coat and rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs.
A flurry of flashes and press met her at the door, pressing in with new frenzy as if sensing her new weakness, "Ms. Carmichael? What happened? Is it true that Willy Wonka has been hospitalized? Was it a Wonkavator mishap?"
She slipped on her dark sunglasses, mitigating the flashes and saw Spencer's car pulling up behind the crowd with Reggie at the wheel. She moved forward and pushed passed individual reporters, even as they tried to follow her, "Ms. Carmichael? Is there any truth to the rumor that you and Mr. Wonka are engaged?"
She pulled open the back door and dove inside, holding up her hand against the renewed flashes, "Go already!" she shouted, fighting against one beefy man to close the door.
The car moved off and Spencer turned in his seat to look at her, "Right, this is what we know. They were up on the roof when something exploded. Charlie got flung down the stairs and got pretty banged up. Willy caught part of the blast up on the roof – although it looked like the stair housing protected him from most of the shrapnel."
Veronica whimpered again, gnawing on one clenched fist as the news hit her.
"Willy was starting to come around by the time they carted him off to the hospital – not making much sense, but still better than he was at first."
She nodded only slightly reassured and was silent on the rest of the ride to the hospital
--
The hospital room was dim and cold. The beeping of the heart monitor and thunk hiss of a ventilator were the only indicators that there was a living being present.
Willy's dark hair was still matted with dried blood, but a few small bandages covered his face and neck. Dark eyelashes shadowed marble pale cheeks and his usually pink lips were bloodless – his oddly pale pallor making him look as if he really were dead. There was a tube coming out of his mouth and held in position by tape on his lower jaw.
Veronica pressed her hand to the window, as if to touch him and feel his heat to tell her that he was alive.
"He's going into surgery in a couple of hours to repair the damage. Minor for the most part, nothing life-threatening – however there was some damage to his right Infraspinatus muscle and we're concerned that there might be some nerve damage to his right arm. He's having some difficulty with fine motor skills on that side," Dr. Mettu, chief of surgery explained gently to her. "We intubated him because his he was also initially having some problems breathing. We'll wean him off that after surgery – no use yanking it out, only to have to do it again for anesthesia."
His soft brown eyes and dark features reminded her of the Oompa Loompas and she made a mental not to let them know what was going on as well.
"May I see him?" she asked quietly.
"Yes. For a few moments. He might be disorientated, we've been giving him the good stuff for pain and to control his blood pressure," he said, opening the door and letting her inside the small ICU room.
Tentatively, she approached the bed. He looked so unlike himself – so still and worn in the plain white hospital gown. The florescent lighting did nothing but emphasis his awful color.
Gently, she took his hand, avoiding the one with the IV, into her own, "Willy?"
He slowly opened his eyes, staring at her blankly for a moment before recognition dawned.
She tried to smile but it hurt too much, "I'm here. How're you doing?"
Willy tried to smile at her, but it was a mere grimace, not reaching his eyes and he pointed at the tube coming out of his mouth with some urgency.
"It's helping you breathe," she explained, looking to the Indian doctor for confirmation.
Dr. Mettu asked, "How is your pain level, Mr. Wonka?"
Willy tried to shrug, but was forced to freeze with a gasp at the aborted movement.
Dr. Mettu grabbed the dry-erase board off the wall and set it on the bed by Willy's left hand, "I'm not sure if you're a rightie or a leftie, but here, try writing on this to communicate."
Willy scribbled on the board and Veronica read, Works for now. Veronica was pleased to note his handwriting was slanted in the opposite direction it usually was, but quite legible. Apparently he was ambidextrous.
He wrote, Pain isn't too bad as long as I don't move, breath, think, or anything else. The drugs don't really take the pain away, they just make me not care as much.
"If you two are alright for the moment, I'll leave you alone. Mr. Wonka, your nurse will check your vital signs in a few minutes, let her know if you need anything else," the Indian doctor said, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
How's Charlie? Willy wrote as soon as he heard the click. His eyes were glassy and his hand shook with the effort.
"Dislocated shoulder, a concussion and a few bumps and bruises. He told us how you shoved him in the stairwell first. You saved his life," Veronica said softly, pulling a hair out away from his eyes.
Her calm façade was slipping and her face crumpled, "I was afraid I lost you."
Willy's concerned eyes only made her tears come faster and she wiped them away angrily – furious with herself for being weak when he needed her the most. Willy's hand caught her own and he tried to bring it to his lips to kiss, but the tube got in the way. His eyes rolled in frustration and that familiar gesture was enough to make her smile weakly.
Grabbing an edge of the sheet, he wiped the board clean and started out with a new message, Nah. I'm the proverbial bad penny – I'll always turn up
Hesqueezed her hand, relaying his affection with his glassy violet eyes.
"What do you think happened?" she asked, going for the million-dollar question.
Willy closed his eyes, scrunching his brows in effort, then wrote There was something….something not right with the Wonkavator. It was out of place in the shadows of the late afternoon…I think it was a pipe bomb.
"A bomb?" Veronica asked, not believing her eyes – she stared at him incredulous.
I think so – I'm not an bomb expert though. I do know it wasn't the Wonkavator, I am an expert on that. Most of the damage could have come from a ruptured fuel line, but nothing of the magnitude that I saw, Willy wrote, opening his eyes to watch her face. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets with bruised flesh underneath. He was shaking from the effort and she knew his energy was running low.
"I believe you. We'll just have to see what the investigators find. There was hardly anything of the Wonkavator left according to Reggie," she said soothingly, not wanting to agitate him in his current state.
For the first time, Willy's mouth quirked around the tube, Yeah well, that's why I use tempered glass – it breaks cleanly instead of shatters he scribbled.
Could you let Mic-Ka know what is going on? I know they're worried, Willy wrote
"Of course," she whispered holding his hand tightly.
I love you, you know, he wrote with a sigh adding a few hearts and flowers around the words.
"I love you too," she said, stroking his undamaged cheek fondly, smiling down at him.
Exhausted, Willy's eyes drifting shut for a moment.
She looked down at their clenched hands for a moment, sitting in silence and rallying her determination to tell him what she'd been thinking of while in the waiting room. The smile slid off her face as she spoke.
"I'm calling off the competition, Willy."
His eyes flashed to hers, and he shook his head vigorously.
"You've been hurt, so have Charlie, Reggie and Spencer – not to mention what happened to me…"
No! Willy wrote in huge letters, circling the word several times for emphasis.
"It's too dangerous – we've all now been hurt and the damage is escalating. I can't press forward with this knowing that the next step is going to get one of us killed," she insisted, trying to make him see reason.
He sighed and she felt guilt for pressing him on the issue when he was in such pain.
You can't give up now. If you do – Slugworth and Victor win.
"I don't care anymore – what good is winning if the price we pay is your life?" she cried.
The price of you quitting is being haunted for the rest of yours. My safety is something I willingly risk for you and I know the rest of us feel the same way. We're not being stupid about this, but we know the risk is there. It's not your choice to protect us by quitting – we're going to be at risk anyway. However, It is your decision whether or not to compete, but considering what we're willing to do for you, the least you could risk would be failure.
Stung at the rebuke, she glared at him, "That's not fair."
Willy sighed again and rolled his eyes, hand shaking from the effort now making his words tough to read, Neither is what happened, that's life.
Truth was that she felt awesomely overwhelmed with the knowledge that the men in her life had willing placed their lives on the line for her without her even realizing it. It made her actions in the past seem that much more immature and selfish. Knowing it now gave her decision that much more gravity and she realized that backing out was not just about her anymore, or about trying to keep everyone safe. It was about defeating an enemy that threatened them all. A real team effort.
"Fine. I won't quit, but I'm beginning to see your reasoning about hiding out in the factory," she grumbled.
It was Willy's turn to smile at her, he wrote for a moment and turned the board toward Veronica. I was wrong about hiding. It doesn't make problems go away, it just gives them time to grow and get stronger. Getting me out was the best thing you've ever done for me and I am grateful – although not right at the moment. Could you scratch my right knee? It itches!
Despite her turmoil, a short laugh was startled out of her and she leaned over and wormed her hand under the sheets to dig her nails into the indicated area. His blissful expression was mildly gratifying.
The door opened and they were surprised to see a familiar face. The nurse that had been tending Reggie and Spencer at Charing Cross entered the room wordlessly, with clipboard tucked neatly under one arm to survey the machines and IV.
"Good evening Mr. Wonka, busy night I see. Your surgery has been moved up and you'll be going in a few moments. Ms. Carmichael, you'd best make your goodbyes." She said coolly, not bothering to meet their eyes. She made her notations on the board and left the room without another word.
"Okay – there's incentive to heal quickly like I've never seen," Veronica said turning to Willy.
His face was scared, either from the prospect of surgery or the nurse, it was hard to tell.
"Don't worry – you'll be fine. I'll be here when you wake up and nothing 'Nurse Ratchett' can say or do will stop me," she said fiercely, standing and kissing his cheek.
The nurse came back in, this time with a man dressed in head to toe green scrubs, much like Willy had been at Charing Cross, "Mr. Wonka? I'm Tim your anesthesiologist. I'll be taking care of you during the procedure. Are you ready to go?"
The man's face was friendly and professional, but Veronica got the idea that Willy was still uneasy, but he nodded and the nurse and the man raised the sides of his bed and unlocked it preparing to wheel Willy out the door.
She kissed his cheek again and whispered in his ear, "I love you – for better or worse, remember? Let's make this the worst we have to deal with? Okay?"
He nodded and gave her hand one more squeeze and meaningful violet gaze before he was wheeled out.
She was left alone in the dim room, now seeming so much larger without the bed or the large personality of the Chocolatier.
Veronica mentally slapped herself awake and left the room to call the factory and everyone else with an update.