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"He broke down then, and that's when I knew I was dying." Huck Finn
Joe
Pain was the first thing I noticed when I came to. The second was that I was in a bed. The third was Frank.
Unfortunately, the first one left little room for anything else to make much sense. I arched my back, realizing for the first time that there were several tubes in my arms and one down my throat. That scared me and that's when everything came flooding back.
I felt someone squeeze my hand. "It's okay, little buddy, you're okay now." I had to be Frank. He was the only one who called me little buddy. I'd told him once to knock it off, when I was twelve, so he started calling me Sunshine like everyone else. I told him I liked little buddy better.
But where was I? The last thing I remembered was…grass… Something had happened before that but I didn't really remember it. I couldn't speak past the tube and when I tried to open my mouth I ended up gagging. Why did I hurt so much? What had happened?
Something wet landed next to me and I forced my eyes to look at Frank. He kept moving around for some reason, and sometimes there were two of him, but he was definitely crying. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen my brother cry. It always scared me.
Frank bit his lip and another tear landed next to me on the bed. Another, voice said, quietly, "You're in the hospital." It was Chet. I tried to move my head to see him but that hurt too. I was really tired.
I tried to show with my face that I didn't know what they were talking about. Why was I in a hospital? I honestly didn't know what happened…the last thing I remembered was Frank yelling at me because we were going to be late. Did we get in a car crash? And why wasn't Frank hurt?
I could feel Chet and Frank looking at each other even though I didn't see them. Then another new voice said, quietly, "You were shot, Joe, but you're going to be alright."
Tony. Somehow, Tony being here made everything better. Tony was always calm, even more so than Frank. I sometimes suspected he was part Vulcan. But I wasn't all that surprised at being shot. I'd been shot before, though only in the leg. We must have been after some bad guys this morning.
Partly from pain and partly from exhaustion, I wanted to go to sleep…but…Frank…was he okay? I had to know. I tried to turn towards him, the tube tugging on me as I did.
Frank squeezed my hand, another drop landing next to me. "I'm fine, Joe. Go to sleep." Then he did something he hasn't done since we were kids. He kissed my head. That's when I knew I was dying, Frank just wasn't telling me.
I was too tired now. As long as Frank was okay, I was too, even if I was dying.
Mrs. Hardy
"Laura, where did you say you were from again?" I sighed, wiping my forehead with my hand. People said Chicago was windy, yet here we were in mid-October with a mini heat-wave of seventy-five degrees. I turned to the wrinkled face of Mrs. Ross, a nice, mother-hen type person of around sixty-five years.
"I'm from New York." I said, patiently, even though it was literally the eighth time I've told her. She frowned, which was odd because the last seven times she'd go on about her early life in the City, even though I had tried to explain to her that I lived in upstate New York.
"You better come here, honey." She started leading me away from the booth and the other women. I was startled, but followed her into a small conference room. "Does the word 'Bayport' mean anything to you?" she asked, her lined face serious. I nodding, wondering what was going on in my home town that had her so worried.
She flipped on the TV. It was the news. I stared at it, looking at the high school -- the school I had gone to, and Frank and Joe were now at -- behind police tape. Words got through to me at intervals…shots fired…over sixty people in the hospital…fifteen already dead…fourteen missing…
What had happened?
It wasn't until I felt Mrs. Ross's hand on my shoulder that I realized I was shaking. I wanted more than anything to look away from the television, and yet…
Frank. Joe. Were they okay? I looked around for a phone, though I probably wouldn't have found one even if it was right in front of my nose.
I started crying. Really crying. Behind me, I heard Mrs. Ross phone the airline. I collapsed into a chair, tears coming down too fast for someone about to be forty-four years old.
Mrs. Ross squeezed my shoulder. "Shh…we'll get you on the next plane home." I must have cried for five minutes before I got up enough energy and willpower to pick up the phone.
I started dialing Frank's cell phone, half-dreading him picking up. If he did pick up, he might tell me that Joe was dead. If he didn't….
The phone went straight to voice mail and I hung up. I was in no state to leave a message. In a panic now, I punched in the numbers for Joe's phone. Same thing.
Trying to think, I next tried Mrs. Morton, one of my good friends and the mother of Chet. She picked up on the first ring. "Laura?" she nearly screamed as I started talking. "I haven't heard from your boys, but Chet called not too long ago." I could hear her breathing hard. I tried to imagine what it felt like already losing one child and thinking you were losing another. "He said he was staying with Frank at the hospital. I don't know about Joe, but I think Frank got out without a scratch."
I thanked her, hanging up. That was one boy accounted for. But what about Joe…? I turned to Mrs. Ross and she said, quickly, "I'll drive you too the airport."
Watching her go, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. My poor boys….and what of Fenton? For the first time, my thought strayed towards my husband. He would hear about this after everything was done…this case was an important one, or else I would call him. Case or no case, he would want to know about his sons right away. But I could put him in more danger…by calling at the exact wrong moment, I could blow his cover.
Numbly, I followed Mrs. Ross, looking as composed as I would ever get. I could go home and find my boys dead, or one without the other….
I couldn't take that. I started crying again.
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