1Before There Was Darkness
Part Eight
"Bus is on the way, Jim. Should be here any time now. How are you doing?"
"Not so good…" No point in lying. He wasn't buying that he was fine; why should anyone else believe it? He felt like he'd been hit by a speeding freight train. His first attempt to get himself upright had been met with an extreme case of dizziness; his head spun, the walls spun, everything else around him caught up in a crazy gyration. He closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but there was no escaping; it was like riding one of those whirling carnival attractions, complete with the nausea, but definitely lacking the fun.
Although he had protested rather loudly at Dan's initial suggestion that he call for an ambulance, he had finally shoved his stubbornness away in his back pocket and acquiesced. This was one time he thought his partner was absolutely right. There was no way he was going to make it back down the remaining 50 something stairs and out to the car.
"I guess it's true what they say. The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Dan was barely 5 foot 7 and a slight build; Jim, at an inch and a bit over 6 feet with a sturdy, athletic build, seemed to tower over him.
"Was that supposed to be funny?" he managed.
"No, I was just going for a little levity. Sorry, Dunbar."
He tried to lift his arm to wave it off. The pain from that one small movement caught his breath short. "Oh, shit," he thought to himself, "My damn arm's broken."
"Hey," he asked, trying to get his mind off his current predicament, "did you get a good look at the guy?" It was obvious to him, anyway, having just been steam-rolled, that the guy was big and solid. He hadn't seen much, black pants, dark blue hooded sweatshirt, white running shoes, Reebok or Nike, he thought.
"No way. He flew past me and was out the door before I hit the second landing. For a big guy he could move. By the time I got out on the street, he was long gone. I radioed for the ambulance, some back-up and came back here."
"Good, that's good." He could hear a faint siren in the distance. As it drew nearer he recognized that it was the ambulance. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, "What a nightmare this day has turned into, huh?"
It was the last place he ever expected to be; lying on some uncomfortably hard hospital gurney, a flimsy hospital gown and even thinner sheet doing a pretty poor job of maintaining his dignity. He had been poked, prodded and x-rayed. He was cold and tired and sore and growing more and more impatient as the minutes dragged on.
His arm was definitely broken; a hairline fracture of some bone on the inside of his forearm; he'd forgotten what they called it; didn't matter really. What did matter was that he was going to be down and out for a few weeks, assigned to a desk job.
He shifted slightly, trying to find a position that didn't put so much pressure on his black and blue pressure points. Ouch! Shit, that hurt - lay still Dunbar.
"Detective Dunbar? I'm Dr. Gordon." An older man, white haired, bespectacled and very experienced looking, poked his head around the corner and pulled the curtain back. "How are you holding up?" he asked, planting himself on the stool and rolling it over to the bed.
"I just want to go home." What a comforting thought that was; home, where he could get into his sweats, crawl into his own bed, and sleep.
"Not just yet, I'm afraid." Shining his little pen light in Jim's eyes, he uh hmm'd again. "Look to the left for me, good, down, um hm, up, good. Okay." Making some notes on the chart, he turned to Jim, "I'd like to run a CT Scan, then we'll send you up to take care of that wrist and give you a room for the night."
"Is that really necessary?" He couldn't hide the displeasure in his voice.
"According to your partner, you took a pretty good fall and you admit losing consciousness for a while. Just to be on the safe side, I would rather we keep you under watch for the next few hours."
"If you're telling me I have no choice in the matter, fine." He was too tired to fight. It wasn't like he had anything to go home to anyway.
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The snow that had been threatening to fall for days was coming down in big, lazy flakes, dusting everything in the city with a coat of fluffy white. Jim stood at the window, watching it fall; he was bored. Cabin fever had already set in and he wasn't cleared to go back to light duty for another week. In the two days since he'd been discharged, he'd already gone through his entire CD collection for the second time and watched as much lame television as he thought he could handle. What the hell am I supposed do now?
The ring of the telephone interrupted his thoughts and he shuffled gingerly over to the side table. Walking was a chore; every fiber of his being screamed in protest. He couldn't remember ever being this sore or this bruised or feeling quite this defeated.
"Hello?"
'Jimmy? It's Walter."
'Hey, Walter." There was a little perk in his voice.
"How you doing, kid? Cabin fever set in yet?" Walter already knew the answer to that one. There was no way Jim would adjust well to sitting around.
"You know it."
"Well, do you think you're up for going out for a bit? I'm taking Dottie out to dinner tonight at Madison Bistro. If you felt up to it, we'd like you to join us."
"Sounds great. I am going a little stir crazy here."
"Thought you might be. How about 7:30? We'll pick you up."
"Good, that's good. See you then."
Somehow, as awkward as it was with one good hand, his left hand at that, he managed to get himself showered and shaved and was dressed and waiting when Walter buzzed to let him know they were waiting.
The restaurant was unusually packed for a weeknight, only a couple of empty tables to be seen. The Maitre'D sat them at a small round table in the corner. Jim staked his claim on the chair at the far side of the table, against the wall; safer that way. Dottie helped him shake out of his dark brown leather jacket and pulled the wool scarf from around his neck.
"Still pretty sore, Jim?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice.
"I'm okay, really. It's not too bad."
He sat down slowly, steadying himself on the arm of the chair, and eased his aching body into the seat. "Is this place always this crowded, Walter?"
"Don't know really. It's the first time we've been here. Friend of my recommended it. Said the food was really good."
"You okay to have a drink, Jim? You're not taking anything are you?" Dottie asked.
"No, I'd like a Heineken, please." Once they'd ordered dinner, Jim sat back and took in the ambience of the place. It was warm and inviting, exposed brick, rich, dark wood and splashes of bright color in the art work that lined the walls. Square pillar candles sat on mirrored tiles in the center of each table, casting a soft flickering glow. If the food was as good as the atmosphere, it would explain the popularity the place seemed to enjoy.
Perusing the patrons, he was drawn to her immediately; two tables over and directly in his line of vision; small features, big blue eyes, perfect, petite nose, long dark hair that cascaded around her shoulders in soft waves. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
She must have felt his stare, he didn't realize he was, because she shifted her gaze to him and smiled. With that, he was smitten.