Chapter Seven
24/06/2019. 22:30 hours. St Mary's Hospital, California.
The stretcher crashed through the emergency room doors, sending JJ sprawling. She managed to catch herself on the rail before she landed heavily on top of Spencer. They were rapidly swarmed by a doctor and several nurses who ran after the stretcher.
"This is Dr Spencer Reid. He has been held captive at San Quentin and dosed with sodium thiopental with intent to execute via lethal injection. Four milligrams has been injected intravenously before agents intercepted. Dr Reid went into respiratory arrest and was intubated on scene. One milligram of epinephrine given as severely bradycardic at thirty two. Dr Reid has facial injuries consistent with a beating, and bruising to his left knee and his abdomen from blunt force trauma. He also has bruising to his neck from suspected strangulation." A tense silence befell the swarm of health professionals as the stretcher came to a stop. A nurse flicked the switch on the ventilator and unfurled the tubing. The nurse rested her hand gently on the back of JJ's to encourage her to release the bag. JJ let go, not realising how much her hand cramped.
JJ clambered down from the stretcher to allow the staff to work. The bag was disconnected and the ventilator tubing was clipped in place to continue with the mechanical breaths. The starched sheet that he lay on was used to slide him across onto a gurney. Spencer's shirt was cut away, revealing more bruising to his upper arms, and a hospital gown was draped over his chest. Another nurse cut away Spencer's trousers and unbuckled his belt, whilst a third removed his converse shoes and mismatched socks. A fourth nurse peeled back his eyelids and shone the light from their pen torch into his eyes. JJ turned her face away as the remains of his clothing was removed in order to offer her best friend some dignity. She cringed as a nurse pushed a silicone catheter into Spencer's urethra, though she was more horrified by the blood that had dried to his inner thighs and genitals. The gown was pulled down over his thighs, followed by a scratchy blue blanket over his legs. The cannula that the EMTs had inserted into the back of his right hand was connected to a bag of saline hanging on a metal stand beside the gurney. JJ gazed up with red-ringed eyes at the older man in dark green scrubs.
"How long will he be like this?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Sodium thiopental has a half life of anywhere between five and a half hours and twenty six hours. Given the dose he received, it's likely to be closer to the latter. We'll take him for a CT scan to rule out any internal injuries, then move him to the ICU so we can closely monitor his heart and his breathing. Once we have passed the twenty six hour mark, we'd expect to see signs of him waking and trying to breathe on his own. Are there any allergies and medical history I need to know about?" JJ swallowed hard and averted her attention back to the doctor, not realising that she had been staring numbly at Spencer.
"Oh, uh... He has a severe allergy to beta lactams. He has weakened lungs from exposure to an experimental strain of anthrax and suffers from seizures after a traumatic brain injury last year. Also, he's strictly against narcotics." The doctor's mouth formed a grim line. "Doctor? Spence was raped whilst he was in there. My unit chief will be here any minute now and she holds power of attorney for his health and welfare."
"Good. As Dr Reid is unconscious, I'll need to seek consent from her to run a rape kit. We'll get you once Dr Reid is settled in ICU." JJ nodded stiffly. She glanced over her shoulder at the clicking sound of a bedrail being pulled up. Her best friend appeared lost beneath tangles of wires and tubes as the machinery was placed either side of his legs. JJ folded her arms over her waist as though trying to hold herself together and chewed her bottom lip as she watched the staff guide the gurney past her towards the double doors leading to radiology.
JJ numbly returned to the waiting area in time for the rest of the team to bustle through the doors, desperate for some semblance of hope. She lifted her eyes to see Emily heading directly for her, dark eyes wide and chest heaving. Emily guided the trembling blonde down into one of the hard plastic seats, hands resting on JJ's forearms.
"Any word?" asked Emily, a rare desperation in her voice. JJ shook her head, tears creeping out of her eyes. She quickly brushed them away with the side of her hand.
"They've taken him for a scan and then moving him to ICU so they can monitor him. There's no drug to reverse the sodium thiopental so they have to monitor his heart and breathing until he metabolises the medication. It could take up to twenty-six hours for the drug to leave his system. They need consent to complete a rape kit." Emily sighed. She knew it was inevitable that one would be needed to collect evidence and make an air-tight case. Not only did they have three inmates that would need further convicting for assault and rape, but also an uncertain number of correctional officers who would also need to be brought to justice for kidnapping, false imprisonment, and any other charge they could make stick. Their main UnSub, Warden Lee Michaels, was dead and it was unclear just how many officers were involved, and how they could be identified. They could only hope that Officer Melanie Carter would be able to help them. In that moment, Emily hated the director for blackmailing her into forcing Spencer to do the interview. She feared the impact the ordeal would have on their young genius, and whether or not he would be able to claw his way back this time.
24/06/2019. 23: 24 hours. St Mary's Hospital, California.
The wait for someone to inform the team that Spencer had been moved to ICU was long and stifling. Luke had already circled the waiting room several times like a caged animal. Emily had chewed two fingernails down to the skin. Tara had somehow managed to get lost in some drama in a women's magazine. Matt was seated next to Tara, flipping his cell phone between his parted knees. JJ gave an exasperated sigh as she returned to the waiting room, hastily shoving her cell phone into her jeans pocket.
"Garcia's taking the next flight out here," said JJ, slumping down into the chair next to Emily. A middle-aged, Asian nurse approached the group with a clip board in her hands. Her sleek black hair reached her chin, flecks of silver shining in the bright lights above her. The bags under her eyes suggested she had been working incessantly for hours.
"Family of Dr Reid?" All eyes turned to the nurse who smiled sweetly, yet tiredly back at them.
"That's us," responded Emily.
"Dr Reid is now in the ICU and he's comfortable. We ran the kit as requested, but it'll be a few hours before the results of his swabs and his bloodwork comes back. The doctor repaired some internal tears from the assault and stitched the wounds on his wrists. He has been started on some prophylactic antibiotics to cover for any STIs. I'll take you up to your friend now." No one could find any words. They could only drag themselves sluggishly along behind the nurse.
The walk to the ICU felt as slow as the wait did. Each step echoed around the still and silent corridor. The overhead lights blinked on as the group proceeded through the corridor. They approached a set of wooden double doors that had been painted blue. A sign was plastered to the glass pane in the door advising them that cell phones had to be turned off. The team took a moment, each of them pulling out their phones and switching them off. The nurse held the clipboard to her chest and punched a code into the small panel to the left of the doors. The left side door clicked with release, allowing the group to shuffle into the eerie ward. One usually expected the buzz of staff conversing with one another and the general noise associated with a busy ward. The intensive care unit was deathly silent. The nurse's station was positioned in the centre of the large circular ward with a view of each room. A TV monitor on the wall between two rooms showed each patient on the ward along with their room number, doctor, named nurse, and observation status. Spencer was in room four and was on thirty-minute observations.
The nurse led them to a room with a large glass window that was half frosted. Black lettering on the window to the left of the door indicated that they were outside of ICU Four. Emily glanced through the glass at the fragile form in the bed. The nurse pushed open the glass door to allow the team into the room. Once inside, no one was able to move, each of them entirely absorbed in Spencer's appearance. Purple bruising had formed across both of his closed eyes, blackened areas stretching across his lower eyelids from the inner corners. The entire left side of his jaw was mottled in shades of black and purple, across his chin and up to a nearly stitched cut through the side of his bottom lip. A bandage had been taped over the bridge of his swollen and bruised nose. Butterfly strips held together a small cut above his right eyebrow. The deep purple hand prints on his neck were a stark contrast to his deathly pale skin. Bandages had been tightly wrapped around his wrists which lay limply at his sides on top of the blanket. A red and white hospital wristband circled his left wrist, resting gently on the bandage. The ventilator hissed in time with each breath it forced into Spencer's lungs. The hospital gown had been pulled up slightly to partially cover his shoulders. His rich brown curls splayed across the pillow beneath his head. The EKG beeped slowly, yet steadily in time with Spencer's heart beat. A small pouch of yellow-coloured fluid hung on the drop stand next to the saline. A machine controlled the flow of medication entering the young man's system. A second cannula had been inserted into the crook of his left elbow leading to another bag and pump.
Emily narrowed her eyes as she read the labels on the bags. A wave of relief washed over her as she realised that none of them were narcotics. He was hooked up to saline for rehydration, the antibiotics for possible sexually transmitted infection, and non-narcotic pain relief. In a split second, they were all instantly transported back to the hospital room one year previously when the young doctor tread the line between life and death from a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He had had to spend almost a week on the ventilator and receiving blood transfusions. Emily suddenly felt guilty. She had scolded him afterwards at the orders of the director, threatening his job and with psychiatric care. The pair did not speak for days afterwards, and it was reminiscent of the cold shoulder Spencer gave her when she returned from her faked death. His anger then had been palpable. This time it was suffocating. She often found Spencer taking himself to the firing range. At one point she had found him in the gym throwing punch after punch against a training dummy. It was a fury never seen before in the man and it was soon obvious how much prison and the accident had changed him. It was clear that he had always held that anger inside and kept a lid on it, but the beast inside had been awoken, and it was a very angry beast.
Emily slumped into the blue plastic chair beside the bed and gathered Spencer's hand into her own. His long, slender fingers felt icy cold against her warm skin. He no longer looked like the simmering vat of rage that they had to contend with a year ago. He looked small, fragile... Scared. Like a little boy who was lost and afraid. He had been forced into a position he should never have been put into. Hell, he should never have been incarcerated to begin with, let alone sent back into a prison with PTSD to the degree he had. Emily gazed softly at the unconscious man's face, the way his long eyelashes brushed against his pale cheeks. The high, sharp cheekbones. The angular jaw.
"You want me to speak to Cruz for you?" came David's voice, cutting through the silence. Emily glanced over her shoulder and nodded. She needed to be with Spencer.
"Thanks, Dave. The rest of you should head to a hotel for the night. Only one of us can stay with Reid. I need to be here. Garcia will be here in the morning. I'll call if anything changes. I promise." JJ opened her mouth as if to argue, but quickly closed it at the desperate plea etched into Emily's weary features. Dave clapped a firm hand on Emily's shoulder in reassurance before turning and leaving the room. The rest of the group followed, wishing Emily and Spencer a good night, and squeezing Spencer's leg as a reminder to themselves that he was alive.