(no subject)

17.
“Escalation”

Pappy headed straight for the county hospital, since that was where they would have to take the boy. He pushed the Nash to the boundaries of what the heap could do.

Why the hell would somebody shoot Tooley? That was like taking an axe to Winnie the Pooh. There was no more harmless man on the face of the planet.

By the tone of Freemont’s voice this was not a nick or scratch, but a wound to be worried about.

He wondered what the boy could have been doing at the time, but to have asked would have slowed the trip to the hospital, and any information could wait.

This was usually the day of the week when the Deputy checked out by the pond and some of the open space. He basically did some pick up of litter and the like.

He didn’t have to do that, that wasn't what he was hired for, he had been told. He did it because it “was the right thing for a public servant to do.” Damn that good kid.

The county hospital was a fairly sad affair, as hospitals go. Only 3 stories tall and with no major facility for operations, its “emergency room” was given over to the occasional farm implement accident. They had only one ambulance and it only ran about half the time. Tooley once said that was what police cars were for.

One of the first things he was going to have to do was inform the State Troopers. Once a police officer was attacked, they came into the picture. But, then Sebastian had probably done that already. He never missed a chance to go up to the State level. Who knows when that might get a little media coverage.

He was suddenly just a little angry when he realized that Tooley hadn’t even been brought in to the “News Conference” when he was the official police presence in the town. They even had some kind of blank faced official there, but not the town Deputy. He realized that he and everybody up there would have winced if someone had tried to ask the boy a question, but still, it was his job. He deserved at least that amount of respect.

He then realized he was probably getting mad about these things because they gave him someone he could focus some blame on.

It was one of those moments when you felt compelled to shake your fist at the heavens. But he knew better. The real anger was for whoever would do this cowardly, inhuman act.

Oh, god.

He realized that when they called Mehitabel to get to him, they must have told her. Bel doted on the boy as if he were her own.

He knew that he did also, it just wasn't his way to show that kind of feeling. He didn't know why, that was just the way things were. Always had been.

He didn’t pray often, or well. But at this moment he prayed that the boy would be alright.

That was when the windshield of the Nash cracked as a bullet went through it and passed within an inch of his face. It went out the back windshield and he somehow kept the car on the road.

On his right, about 2 minutes away, was the hospital.

In the rear view mirror he looked back, but saw nothing.

This wasn't an accidnet. Not some rouge deer hunter with a blind spot for Nash Ramblers. This came to close to be anything but a plan. Someone knew he would be coming to the hospital.

Someone had been waiting for him. And Pappy would take even money that it was whoever shot Tooley.

He jumped as another shot pinged on the rear bumper.

He turned down the off ramp and flew like a ruptured duck into the parking lot. He looked up the hill, but saw nothing.

His hands were shaking in a way even the extreme cold of an Iowa winter couldn't induce. With all alacrity he hustled himself into the hospital. This was when he noticed that someone had stolen his kneecaps and substituted tapioca for them.

Inside, he turned like a scarecrow wobbling in a windstorm and looked out the window. That was when he realized he couldn’t catch his breath.

If just to get them to stop trembling he ran his fingers though his hair. That was when he found that that hand covered with blood.

Mehitabel screamed, and instead of smiling to assure her of his well being, he sank to his knees.

At that point he lost consciousness.

 

© 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

(no subject)

18.
“Blood Makes It Real”

He wondered what that awful smell was. Had Mehitabel spilled something and just gone wild with the cleaning stuff?

And it was too cold. He had told her a million times he wasn’t crazy about that air conditioner and would like to save it for only the uncomfortably hot days. When you used it in more temperate climate the room got so cold it was like a punishment.

He was just sure that hell was not all fire and brimstone, but constant inescapable cold.

Why was this room so bright? Even with his eyes closed this place was blinding white.

“Oh damn,” He thought, “I’m in the hospital.”

Cracking one eye open he claimed the prize for top detective, in this room anyway. There was another bed, and in it, he thought, was Tooley. He couldn’t tell for certain as there was some kind of plastic something over the head part of the other bed in the room and it prevented his seeing the face of his room make. But the arms were Tooley’s, being strong and hairy, from the knuckles to the shoulder.

Now he needed to figure out why he was here.

He reached up and felt a bandage on the right side of his face. It was small and not very painful, so he assured himself it wasn’t to much of a threat to his life.

Glass shard! Even the newest safety glass could cut you if it was propelled by a bullet. But regular glass would have probably done some worse damage to him. But, the head bleeds a lot. He knew that because he once knew a wrestler who told him they often cut their foreheads in matches because the great amounts of blood would ratchet up the audience’s involvement. Blood always said it was real, and that’s when the blood lust started in the seats.

None of this seemed worthy of a stay in a hospital room. Something else must have happened. He remembered not being able to catch his breath, but that was about all he recalled.

He would have to wait for a nurse or a doctor to fill him in on the details.

But, for now, he thought he might take a little nap.

 

© 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

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