Roger didn't know how long it was before he woke up. All he did know was that he had a throbbing head and was very confused. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Shards of glass were strewn everywhere, across the road, across his car, across him, across the tractor-trailer, all of them catching the headlights of cars passing cautiously.
Roger realized he was sitting upside-down and the blood was rushing to his head. He swooned, but had enough sense to realize he had flipped sideways several times into the ditch. Roger slowly moved his limbs to assess any damage, and his right leg seared with pain when he moved it. He guessed it was broken. Roger tasted blood and noticed it running down from his head.
Head wounds did always bleed more, Roger thought numbly.
He realized he couldn't get out of his car, even if his leg wasn't broken. He knew the door wouldn't open; it was so smashed in that he couldn't discern where the door began and the car's body ended. His arms and face were bleeding.
You really screwed up this time, Davis, he thought to himself. He trembled, every nerve in his body quivering with fear, shock, and guilt. Like a sharp punch to the gut, it seared through his stomach and chest. Roger vaguely heard voices saying to call for help and a few minutes later, Roger heard sirens and saw flashing lights. Somehow, the emergency team pried the door off the tractor-trailer and Roger's car and they pulled him out carefully. But it still hurt. Roger yelled in pain from his leg and then he lost consciousness and knew no more.
Mark jumped when he heard the phone ring, but he didn't get to it in time, so the answering machine picked it up.
"Speeeeeeak!" He heard his and Roger's familiar obnoxious voices. It made him smile and then heard the message and his face fell.
"This is the Officer Anthony Flynn, NYPD, calling. I'm sorry to say that a Roger Davis has been involved in a serious car accident and is in critical condition at Bellevue Medical Center."
Mark quickly picked up the phone. "Officer?" he asked.
"Is this Mark Cohen?"
"Yes," said Mark.
"Records show you are next of kin."
"Not exactly," said Mark, "I'm his roommate, but we're like brothers." Mark started to panic. "Is he OK, Officer? Is he hurt?"
"Yes and no, Mr. Cohen; I'm very sorry to have to give you this terrible news. Doctors say he's alive, but in really bad shape. He was alone at the scene, and although he was found conscious, they had to revive him twice."
Officer Flynn paused for a moment before continuing. "Mr. Cohen," he said slowly, "the way this is going, I think you should prepare yourself. I'm very sorry that I had to be the one to give you this news. I send my regards, and I'll call you back when we have any updates at all."
"Thank you, Officer."
Mark hung up the phone and sank to the floor, reality starting to sink in. His best friend was just in a car crash. His best friend could possibly be dying. And the last thing he had said to him was that he had thought Roger had been too brutal in being honest with Mimi…
Mark, still sitting on the floor, picked up the phone with shaking hands and dialed Maureen and Joanne's place. Maureen picked up.
"Maureen, is Joanne there with you?" Mark asked hurriedly.
"Yeah, she is, why? Hang on; let me put you on speaker."
Mark waited until Maureen gave him the go-ahead and then he started talking. "I'm glad I got both of you, because there's something serious you need to know. The police just called me. Roger's been in a wreck. He's at Bellevue."
There was silence on the other end, and Mark knew Joanne and Maureen were shocked. "They found him on East Highway 139. A tractor-trailer had crashed and rolled into his lane. The officer told me that he's in critical condition. We need to get a hold of Collins and Angel and find Mimi, in case he doesn't make it." There was more silence. "Are you two going to be all right?"
Maureen and Joanne's voices came back, sounding very choked up. "Yes, we'll be over to the loft in a few minutes," said Joanne. "How can you be so calm about this, Mark?" Mark smiled and let out his breath a little; he didn't have an answer to that one. "Try to reach Collins and Angel, and we'll be over soon."
"OK. Could you pick them up? You're the only one with a car now." As Mark realized what he had just said, he groaned and bit his lip. "Ah, man, I'm sorry, Joanne, that was completely tactless of me."
"Don't worry about it. Of course we can."
"OK, thanks, bye."
Mark hung up and dialed Angel's place. "Angel," he said, "is Collins there? Yes? There's something you both need to know… It's Roger. He was in an accident earlier. It's not looking good. He's at Bellevue in critical condition. You need to get over to the loft ASAP, so we can go there and be with him. Someone needs to find Mimi, too. If Roger doesn't make it, and she finds out that nobody told her about the wreck, she'll be beyond pissed off. Mo and Jo will be there to pick you up."
Mark hung up and sat and waited for Collins' phone call to announce that he, Angel, and the girls were here. About ten minutes later, he heard it and met them downstairs.
"We couldn't find Mimi…" Joanne said nervously. "There wasn't really any time to search for her…"
Mark got a worried look on his face. "We'll search for her again later. Let's go," he said.
They quickly got into Joanne's car and went to Bellevue. Upon arriving, Maureen rushed up to the admittance desk and asked for Roger Davis.
"Roger— Davis," she panted, slamming her hands onto the desk. "We need— to see— Roger Davis."
"Pookie," Joanne said, going over to Maureen, "calm down. Come on, just sit down. Mark will handle this."
Maureen opened her mouth, closed it again, and then sighed and slowly went to go sit down next to Joanne. Mark went up to the admittance desk and started talking to the secretary.
"Sorry," he muttered. The secretary nodded understandingly. "Can we at least see Roger Davis' doctor? Is he available?"
"Yes," said the secretary, "one moment, I'll page him for you." The secretary picked up her phone and quickly paged the doctor over the PA system. "He'll be here in a few minutes."
"Thank you," said Mark, and he went to sit down with the others Bohemians.
A doctor came out and called Roger's name. "Roger Davis?" Mark and the other Bohemians stood up and went over to the doctor. "Come with me, please. I'm Doctor Jesse Thomas. Are you his kin?"
"Yes," Mark answered, not having to repeat his earlier conversation with Officer Flynn.
The doctor nodded and quickly began to speak. "They admitted Roger to the ER and found a pulse right away. It was weak and barely registering, but there is still a chance he will pull through with some major consequences."
"Is he OK?" Maureen asked, never breaking from Joanne's arms wrapped around her in a securing hug.
Mark nearly fainted when Doctor Thomas nodded his head and spoke. "Mr. Davis is going to make it."
Tears wasted no time falling from Maureen and Joanne's eyes. They couldn't have been happier, although they knew that, if Mimi was here, she'd beat that by a long shot. However, the doctor wasn't finished. "But with what consequences?" Collins asked, after a pause and a short flinch.
The doctor's face fell to a hundred percent sympathetic. Maureen and Joanne's happiness was short-lived.
"Just think of it this way. Roger had a one in about one hundred thousand chance in surviving, and he lived."
The doctor beckoned for them to follow him and they did. He led them down a long white hall to his office, where they all either sat in chairs or stood. "I brought you in here so you would be more comfortable with hearing the news," he said.
"Do you do this every time you tell a family member that your patient is dying?" Mark asked, as he watched Maureen and Joanne fumbling with tissues from their pockets.
"Mr. Davis isn't dying," he repeated, putting his eyeglasses on and looking at the front page on his clipboard.
"Well, he's not living, either," said Maureen, "or he would be out here with us right now, laughing and having a good time."
"Mo," Mark said, desperately wanting to find out about Roger's condition, "just let him talk… please..."
Doctor Thomas mentally thanked Mark and continued. "Mr. Davis is very much alive… However, he has developed some permanent injuries. Whiplash has caused him to slip the disks in his neck. He will be complaining of stiff necks for a while, but there will be medication provided for helping him through it. He was very lucky not to have broken it."
Mark made a convulsing movement, but no words escaped him. "I know this is hard for you, Mr. Cohen, but if there's anything I hate, it's walking around the truth. I'm sorry for being blunt with his condition, but the sooner I finish, the sooner you can see him."
"Go on," Mark said, after sighing deeply again.
"He had to have his spleen removed, because it had ruptured, plus there are slight fractures in his arms. His jaw is fractured and his nose is broken, and there are other slight fractures and bruises in various places that will heal on their own, without surgery. He is also suffering from a concussion. He has yet to regain consciousness.
"I have to say, non-medically-induced comas are a very tricky thing. Mr. Davis is very much alive, but the longer he resides in a coma, the less of a chance he has for survival. We're also afraid that, once he does exit his coma, he won't know who he is, where he is, or who any of you are."
Collins and Angel just continued to stare blankly at the carpet below them and let the tears drain down their cheeks. Joanne and Maureen didn't bother to cover their faces, either. Joanne never even made a sound. Unlike Maureen, she was holding her emotions inside, except for a few sniffles here and there. Mark felt like he would never be happy again.
"Is that it?" Mark asked, hoping the worst was over. Doctor Thomas nodded. He shook Mark's hand, giving his sympathies, before ushering them to Roger's room down the hall.
It was the walk of doom, or so it felt. Joanne and Maureen clung to each other for moral support, Angel and Collins as well. Mark had been in the hospital before, but not for very long, and never like this. He felt distinctly alone today, without Roger by his side. It made those other times seem like nothing.
Roger's room was all the way to the end of the busy hallway. Doctors and nurses of all kinds rushed in and out of the other rooms, but not Roger's. They'd done all they could for Roger, and now the rest was up to him.
Walking in the door, they saw the sight they expected. It was difficult to tell it was Roger that lay in the bed. His face was partially covered by a gauze pad, and it couldn't be seen under the blanket, but they knew that his body was way worse.
Doctor Thomas left the five of them alone in the room, telling them to take their time, and he shut the door behind himself. It didn't have to be vocally confirmed that not one of them was going to leave until Roger regained consciousness. They would go search for Mimi once Roger woke up; that way, they would know that Roger was OK, and Mimi wouldn't have to see him like this.
Mark was the first to pull up a chair and sit beside Roger, after letting this entire tribulation sink into her mind. Angel was second, while Collins just continued to stand where he was, trying to be strong for them all.
"If Roger can't remember anything, like the doctors said, he knows someone's here," Mark said, "just not whom. I imagine he's going to be very confused when he wakes up."
"Hopefully, he doesn't throw a fit and put his life on the line," Collins said softly.
"Speaking of line," said Joanne, "his life bar hasn't changed since we arrived, has it?" She glanced over at Roger's life monitor.
"No, it's been a steady beep," said Collins. "He's at the halfway point where he could go either way. If there were a major change, the doctors would be in here pronto. Since we haven't seen one yet, besides Thomas, he must be doing OK."
Mark didn't know what to say.
Over the next couple of hours, Roger didn't change a bit. He still lay in the same position, with all the necessary equipment hooked up to him, to read his condition. It was now almost day two and the doctor had said to expect complications in his condition if the coma was still in effect after 24 hours. Since Roger's accident had taken place a little after midnight the night before, Mark— as well as the others— had approximately 12 hours to not give up hope. After that, he didn't know what they'd do.
There's more to come, I promise. I'll be going back and forth between Roger's Next Step and Untitled— now named Crash, because I couldn't think of anything else, and I have to thank OnEtHoUsAnDsWeEtKiSsEs for it— when I get in a rut for one or the other. Thanks for reading and keep the reviews coming. They make me happy.
Until next time, lots of love,
Renthead07