Average Joe (Work in Progress)

ONE
-A Matter of Convenience-


For me, this day should have been one of those perfect days that every man dreams about. I woke a minute before the alarm clock began screaming at me and I turned it off without looking, just as most everybody does that has an alarm clock that has sat in the exact same spot over the last ten gazillion years. I rose and stretched; a perfect stretch, the kind that pulls your muscles and pops your joints to the point of almost hurting, but in actuality feels more like ecstasy than pain. And as of this moment, I haven’t seen a demon is over a week...but this secret will be revealed a little later. Please bear with me.

April was already up, toweling her hair dry as she leaned in front of the bathroom mirror. Despite my unruly hair and a case of horrific morning breath, she greeted me with a kiss and a smile. I smiled back as I turned on the shower, adding more steam to the already cloudy bathroom.

The hot water soothed and refreshed me as it always did and I watched the figure of my wife dress through the heavy distortion of the shower door. Seven long, fun years, I thought as I watched my wife. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Except maybe children. If only we could have children, that might push things a little closer to perfection. I closed my eyes and let the steaming water wash the drowsiness from my face and the thought of children from my mind.

April having children wasn’t the problem. We’ve been approved for adoption already, so we could add another member to our little family at any time, but we were extremely patient, and were not rushing into anything too fast. Nursing took the majority of April’s time and she wasn’t quite ready to give it up yet. Yes, she was being a little selfish, but she loved her job too much right now, and it was still a new and exciting career adventure.

I turned of the water and stepped out of the shower. I could hear April in the kitchen. She was moving pots around as she got breakfast started. I shaved the weekend stubble off my chin and cheeks, then brushed my teeth, ridding my mouth of that monstrous morning breath. There was plenty of time before I had to report for work, so I dressed slowly, enjoying the sounds of the morning. Early traffic had already begun to gather for the race to whatever job might lay ahead for the poor souls who had to navigate the highways, and a siren echoed on the streets as an ambulance sped toward an emergency of some kind. I’d always enjoyed the sounds of the city.

I pulled on my boots and buckled my belt and holster around my waist as April called me into the kitchen for breakfast. The hallway leading from our bedroom to the kitchen of our small home was already filled with the overpowering smell of frying bacon. April was a streak of teal nursing scrubs before me as she sped back and forth between the eggs and setting the table. I grabbed a carton of orange juice and poured us each a glass as we sat down to eat.

“Pick you up some pizza on the way home tonight?” she asked, taking a bite of eggs as she watched me add catsup to mine. She hated the look of eggs with catsup, and hated it even more as I scooped them into my mouth. “You know, if you’d seen the things I’ve seen in the ER, you’d think twice about shoveling that mess into your mouth.”

“Brains, brains, I need my brains,” I chanted, mouth full of the metaphoric mess.

“You’re sick,” she said, faking her disgust.

I laughed and eventually April joined in, but only halfheartedly. I knew my morning meal reminded her all too much of a motorcycle accident victim she’d helped to treat a few weeks before. The cyclist hadn’t been wearing a helmet and his skull looked not unlike the mass of goo in my plate. She pushed her plate away, only half finished.

“So. Why pizza tonight? Where are you going to be?”

“They made the mistake of scheduling Denise and Mary off on the same shift, so the night crew is short handed. I have the pleasure of working a double shift to cover for them.”

I know my wife too well to know that she had been forced into the extra work. Knowing her, she offered her services.

Smiling slyly, I said, “I wish you would have told me last night and I wouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

She rose from her seat and crossed to my side of the table. I scooted back and she sat down on my lap and put her arms around my neck and gently kissed me on the lips. She had the distinct taste of peppermint mouthwash.

“But I enjoyed it so much.” She bit me on the ear and I tickled her ribs, making her jump up out of my lap, screaming and laughing at the same time. I kept poking her in the stomach and goosing her rib cage as she back peddled out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Stop it, stop it!” she yelled, tears of laughter glistening in the corners of her eyes making her fresh mascara streak down her cheeks. I flung her onto the couch and lay on top of her, pinning her arms behind her.

“Don’t you dare,” she said.

“But it’s so much fun torturing you.” I kissed her neck, making goose bumps rise all over her body. We were finally able to stop giggling and lay there together, wrapped around each other, basking in the security of each other’s arms.

“I’ve really got to get going,” she said, pushing me off of her and rubbing her hip where my holster had dug into her side. She tried to get up but I held onto her hand and pulled her back down where I could kiss her again.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, too, Joe. Now, we’ve both got to get to work.” She pulled up off the couch and retreated down the hallway to the bedroom to re-apply her makeup.
From the other end of the house, she asked, “Do you want me to drop you off at the bank?”

“That’s fine. I’ll catch the bus home tonight.”

I went to the bureau by the front door, unlocked the top drawer and pulled out my Glock 9mm. To this day, I have never had to pull my gun on anything more threatening then paper targets, but that, as I would soon find out, would change before the day was over.

-------


I slammed the door to April’s blue Accord and waved good-bye in answer to her blowing me a kiss. She pulled back into traffic and quickly became just another vehicle in a sea of cars. I turned and looked up at the high rise building and wondered for the hundredth time how man could have made such a behemoth. It stood over ninety stories and I wondered for the briefest second why I had never ventured beyond the ground floor and the basements. Was it because I was afraid of heights? Yes, you might say that. I looked beyond the building at the clouds as they passed swiftly over the building and I felt a slight wave of nausea creep over me. The way the clouds moved over the glass surface of the building magnified the dizziness. Why do I subject myself to this every morning? It’s not like standing here looking up will help with my fear of going up there and looking down. In fact, the view from here makes it less likely that I’ll ever venture beyond the ground.

Shaking my head, I headed on into the building. The front door opened into a huge entryway with a fountain behind the main desk.

“I’m sure glad you made it,” said Chris Miller, rising with a stretch and a yawn from behind the desk. “I would have given you another five minutes before I actually fell asleep.”

I doubted that. Once the sun came up, the lobby was always a beehive full of people buzzing this way and that. Miller would not have had the time to sit and doze. He fiddled with the lock to the safe and stowed his gun away inside. Unlike me, Chris wasn’t licensed to carry his weapon in public, only on the job, and he couldn’t step outside the building with it.

When I applied and won this job, I’d decided I would go all the way. Thus, I owned my gun and was licensed to carry it almost anywhere, either in its holster on my hip or in the shoulder harness where I could keep it hidden under my arm. I even had a private investigators license but didn’t bother to practice. I’ve forgotten almost everything I had leaned in police academy, and have no desire to pursue that venue either. I really liked the no-hurry-take-it-easy-just-give-directions job of being a security officer. Watch surveillance cameras. Make sure no bad elements decide to wonder in off the street and disturb the peace and tranquility of the building. If they aren’t wearing suits and dresses or are a part of the maintenance then they don’t belong here.

Those were my instructions when I took the job.

Most days were just filled with endless “hello’s” and “how-do-you-do’s”, and that was just fine and dandy with me. For fifteen dollars an hour, I couldn’t ask for any better and do so little. I consider myself somewhat lazy and was just lucky enough to stumble on a lazy man’s job.

“Anything exciting happen last night?” I already knew the answer even before Miller could state it.

Miller covered another yawn with his hand, “Just a couple of kids taking a leak on the bushes.” He gestured to the small courtyard out the front where a few trees and bushes grew. “Now it’s time for me to go hit the hay.”

Miller punched in his security code in the small computer built into the desk and logged out of the system and thereby also clocking out for the day.

I came around the back of the desk and logged my security password into the system as soon as Miller was out of the way. “See ya in twelve,” I called to Millers back as he walked out the front of the building.

The only bad thing about this job was the twelve-hour shifts. I had two twenty minute breaks and a forty-five minute lunch break which allowed me just enough time to hit the convenience store a block down or the diner a block farther. The shifts were from ten to ten. I always thought that they were odd hours, but at least I could sleep in every morning when the rest of the world had to start working at eight. And getting off at ten didn’t bother me much either since I was a night owl.

The day went on smooth as ever. My first break came at two and Ralph came down from the upper floors to relieve me.

Ralph was an odd sort of fellow. His coke-bottle glasses magnified his piercing blue eyes to the extent of almost being bug-like. He was a young guy, about twenty-one or so, and quiet. I had long since given up trying to start a conversation with him. In fact, I didn’t even know the kid’s last name.

I watched him disembark from the elevator and stroll unhurriedly to the security desk.

“And how are we today?” I asked as I logged out of the computer and Ralph logged in. I didn’t realize how much my words bled sarcasm.

“Fine.” Short, simple and anything but sweet. Unfriendly, blunt, and to the point too.

“Need anything while I’m out?”

And what is the answer ladies and gentlemen?

“No.”

Correct answer! It didn’t matter how many time’s I asked, he never needed anything.

I left, snickering under my breath as I stepped out into the sunny day.

--------


The convenience store was like most every other convenience store across the country. You’ve got your drinks cooling on the back wall, the beer on the left as you enter, and shelves stretching through the center with all the candy and chips a child could ever dream of. The counter was by the door on the right and like most in the city, was completely enclosed by bulletproof glass. A hole in the glass allowed the clerk to make change. I always thought it was funny that the bulletproof glass makers would include a gaping hole big enough to put a bazooka through…it’s a concept I never could quite understand.

“Hey, Joe.” Amy Jellum was behind the counter, waving.

“What’s up, Amy?” She had a nursing book in her lap. She was a student who was working to pay her way through her schooling and I didn’t see how she did it. Most nursing students didn’t have the time to study much less work, but Amy pulled it off where very few others could. One factor in her favor that put her above the rest was her near photographic memory. Amy had come to my wife in the past for tutoring but soon found out that she really didn’t need it. In fact, April used Amy to keep up her own studies as she furthered her nursing career. The two of them had become best of friends despite their age difference.

“Just studying,” she answered, sweeping a lock of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

I walked to the back and grabbed a cold Coke and a bottle of water to take back to work. Amy jumped off her stool and stretched, speaking as she did it, “You going to come by this way after work?”

I counted out my change and slid it through the hole in the glass. I can. “Whatcha need?”

“Billy’s got me working two shifts tonight and I was hoping you’d walk me to the bus stop. I hate working nights here. All the creeps seem to come downtown and hand in the alley out back.”

“Double shift, huh?”

“Yeah. Sucks.”

“There’s a lot of that going on today. April has to work and extra shift too. But sure, I’ll come by.” I would get off at ten. Amy wouldn’t get off till eleven. That meant another hour to waste before I could go home. She’d probably want me to see her all the way home too, which would turn into an extra forty-five minutes of bus travel.

“Would you mind seeing me home, too?”

My intuition astounds me. Either that or she was good at reading my mind.

“Sure.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Actually, I did mind, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I’m glad I have an understanding wife. All it would take is the wrong person to see me escorting a young woman home to get the neighbor hood in an adulterous uproar.

“No, I don’t mind at all.” I showed her my best smile. “See you a little after ten.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

I left and the remainder of shift at work, like every day before, flew by and before I knew it, Chris was walking back in, stretching, yawning, and looking just as tired as he looked when he’d left that morning.

“Anything exciting happen while I was away?”

“Ralph and I had a stimulating conversation over lunch.” I smirked, falling into the routine of the daily joke between Chris and I.

“No! How many words?”

I held up three fingers and suppressed my need to laugh.

“Dang, Joe. I can’t get anything but grunts and uh-huh’s out of him. How’d you do it?”

“Charm and personality, Chris. Charm and personality. I think he’s beginning to actually like me.”

The elevator door beeped and the door slid open and out walked out none other then Ralphy-boy…the perfect punch line for a near perfect joke. Chris and I could contain our laughter no longer and both of us nearly hit the floor as we cut loose our hysterics. Ralph never even glanced our way. I don’t think he even knew that we were laughing at him, which is just as well.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of my eyes so I could see to log out of the computer system.

I was still laughing as I walked out into the night. I wouldn’t be laughing for long.

-------


I mentioned very early on that it had been over a week since I had seen a demon. This is where I try to convince my skeptical readers that, yes, I do indeed see demons. It’s really not an uncommon occurrence; of course, most people don’t actually see demons but sense them. Religious leaders are at the top of the list. Another individual, two thousand years ago, could also see demons. I’m certainly not comparing myself to Him, I’m just stating that we have something in common. Besides, I can see them, but He could cast them out; which is something that I can’t even come close to doing.

I can’t see all demons either; just some of them. Unfortunately, it’s the worst of the demons that I can see. It’s those spiritual tormentors that are about to unleash hell’s fury that draw my vision. Or curse. At this point in my life I had yet to determine if I were cursed or not, and it would take the love and compassion of a local Baptist preacher to put me on the correct path of determining what my ability indeed was…but once again, I’m getting ahead of myself.

I pulled the door to the convenience store open and the whole world suddenly went into slow motion. The screeching hiss of the doors hydraulic arm seemed to last forever as the door shut behind me. The obvious temperature change from outside to inside tickled across my face and forearms, raising goose bumps across my skin. A chill crept up my spine as my eye finally seemed to catch the drastic gravity of the situation before me.

A man stood at the window in from of Amy’s enclosed booth. He was tall with long, with a long, oily black trench coat that stood motionless around him. His, just as oily, just as black, hung down from under a ladies stocking which distorted his facial features.

A charcoal grey, leathery creature with red eyes and teeth like a shark clung to the man’s back. Its head was pressed next to the man’s ear, whispering in a guttural language that could have only come from the very pits of Hell. This…was a demon.

The man was yelling something at Amy, but I couldn’t make out his words because all I could hear was the demon. The demon noticed my entrance first and shrieked as one of its claws plunged into the man’s scull. The other arm reached down in front of the man and seemed to grab onto the sawed off shotgun that was inserted into the hole of the bullet proof glass. It was aimed directly at Amy’s head. Of course, the demon couldn’t physically manipulate either the man or the gun, but through the deep set emotional bonds between specter and man, the demon could more or less control him much like a marionette pulls the strings of a puppet. An influence of hate here, a taste of power there; the demon could pile impulse upon subconscious impulse into the man’s psyche. The impulse the demon was using now was for the man to look to his right.

The man turned to look at me for the first time, and even through the stocking covering the man’s face, I could see the obvious fear and panic that sprung there like a sudden rushing flood. He must realize that he was under control, that his actions were not exactly his own, but even if he did, there was no way for him to stop what his subconscious had already set into motion. He belonged completely to the demon, and anything short of death would release the bond that joined them.

The gunman was yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear the words, only the screaming demon and the insistent, pounding cadence of my heart. The man yelled again as he pointed his free hand at the ground in front of me.

I didn’t move, but still stood speechless in the doorway as it crept shut against my back. I couldn’t believe that so much had happened in just a few short seconds. The moment the door touched my back, it seemed to jolt me out of my revere. A snap, like a firecracker, seemed to go off in my head and everything was suddenly, frighteningly clear…I was about to die.

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? GET ON THE FLOOR! NOW!” The gunman pulled the gun from the hole in the bullet proof glass and began to turn its business end in my direction.

“Okay, man. Okay,” I said, finding my voice as I realized what had to be done. In a split second and in one fluid motion, I dropped to one knee, and brought my hand up against my holster. As my hand rose up against the safety strap, it issued just enough pressure to undo the snap, and as my palm passed the pistols grip, I closed my hand around it and pulled it up, out and in front of me. I did it with lightning sped, just like out of a western shoot out. If I hadn’t been so scared, I would have been proud of my efforts. But the effort of drawing my pistol without error or mistake wasn’t quite enough.

I still had to pull the trigger.

The gunman froze; his arm stretched out halfway between Amy and me, with the gun aimed at neither of us.

“Okay,” I said again. “Drop the shotgun.” My voice sounded normal and under the circumstances, I couldn’t understand why. I brought up my left hand and gripped the bottom of the pistol to steady it. I had to use all my concentration to keep the gun aimed at the man’s head and not the demon that screamed and shouted behind him. Obviously, guns have no effect on demonic entities.

The man stood still, frozen in place, and I could only imagine the mental pictures that the demon was inputting into the gunman’s subconscious.
Of course, more questions were going though my mind as well. The first of which was how much a mess my 9mm hollow points would make if I actually had to shoot the young man.

The demon continued to scream its silent screams and I watched those horrific messages finally break through the gunman’s brief hesitation. The young man’s intentions flashed across his face just as clearly as if they’d been written on paper in front of me. Things were, unfortunately, about to get messy.

“No…Don’t do…” My voice trailed off. It was too late. The gunman’s face contorted to rage under the stocking and his mouth opened in a horrendous scream that seemed to echo the silent scream of the demon attached to him. He brought the shotgun around to shoot me. And then, for the second time that night, the world seemed to all but stop.

The shotgun swung toward me, slowly, like watching the slow motion action of a John Woo movie. My finger twitched on the trigger and I suddenly felt like I had to use every ounce of my physical and mental energy to pull the trigger. My arm cramped from the effort of holding the gun up, like I had been holding it in the same position for hours instead of minutes.

Somebody’s car alarm sounded outside, and thunder clapped twice in the distance.
But it wasn’t thunder, was it? And the car alarm? It wasn’t a car alarm either, but the convenience store’s burglar alarm.

Why was I now on my back?

Amy crouched over me, tears streaming down her face as she spoke to me. “Hold on, Joe. Just hold on.”

She kept repeating the words like a mantra or a skipping record as everything I could see began to spin and swirl. The only think that was not blurred and out of focus was the image of my Glock and the flare of brief fire that leapt from its muzzle.

Over and over again, the scene played in my mind until unconsciousness overtook me. What I saw was the sudden shock that flashed across the gunman’s face as the back of his head erupted and sprayed blood, brain, and bone across the booth and shelves of dry goods behind him. It was a sight that would replay over and over in my mind over the course of the remainder of my life.

What had I just done?

Better yet, why was I on the floor and why did the room continue to spin around me?
After a long day of work, it was no wonder I was tired. But was it wrong of me to sleep at a time like this; and while I was lying on the floor of a convenience store? Was I being selfish by allowing myself the luxury of sleep in the midst of a crisis such as this? Crisis? What crisis? I felt justified of earning the right to be selfish and like the moist and relaxing waters of a hot bath, unconsciousness wrapped around me and I sunk down into the deep blackness of sleep.

------


As I lay unconscious on the floor of the convenience store, justifying in my mind my earned right to be selfish as sleep, Amy Jellum looked down on me with rising panic (of course I am unconscious at this point, but with police reports, video surveillance from the store and talking with Amy herself, I was able to piece together all the events that happened). She was studying nursing but had only really just begun and she didn’t know how to help me. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

She new what to do…she had to stop the bleeding! She looked at my ruined shoulder and did the only thing she knew to do at that moment. She removed her T-shirt, wrapped it tightly around my upper arm and shoulder, and then pressed both her hands against my wounds.

Police sirens echoed outside, coming closer. Help was on the way as she watched her shirt soak with my blood.

I remember moaning under the pressure of her hands. I briefly opened my eyes and focused on Amy.

“Hi, Amy. What are you doing here?” My voice was weak and far away.

“You’re going to be just fine, Joe. Just hand in there, all right? Joe? Joe!” My eyes had closed again and I’m sure that Amy felt, for an instant, that I was dead.
She felt for a pulse.

I barely had one.

Patrol cars finally slid to a halt outside. Amy’s head spun to the door as a police officer jerked it open. Two more officers entered behind the first, each of them with guns drawn.

One of the officers asked Amy if she could turn off the alarm as the first officer knelt to take over tending to my wounds. She rose and shut off the blaring alarm. It didn’t register with her until the following day that she was not the one who had tripped the alarm.

-------


April Beck strolled through the hallway of the emergency room, trying to look busy on an otherwise slow evening. She was one of five nurses assigned to the critical trauma team, and so far, there had been nothing too serious had come in. She was on her way now to the nurse’s lounge to rest. Her body was finally feeling the effects of the double shift and she had to get at least an hour or so of rest if she was going to make it through the worst part of the night.

The nurse’s lounge was empty and she used the dimmer switch to reduce the light in the room. She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes. The time was 9:45 at night and April would receive almost two hours of much needed sleep before she would be awakened.

She was roused from her sleep to a beehive of activity. There was an emergency going on out in the hall and she glanced at her beeper, wondering why she hadn’t been paged. She sat up on the couch, shaking her head to clear the sleep. Stepping into the hall she found herself surrounded by mass craziness. Other nurses and nurse aids rushed back and forth on some errand or other. April smiled and greeted a couple she knew but they kept moving, ignoring her attempts at conversation.

What’s going on here?

She hurried down the hall toward the emergency rooms, bypassing the nurse’s station.

“April! April, stop!” Clarise rushed her bulk around the nursing station and caught up with the younger woman before she could go through the double doors and into the emergency room.

Clarise was a large woman, black as the night and about the friendliest woman either April or I could ever remember meeting.

April stopped and turned to see what Clarise wanted. She was greeted by a large set of white teeth behind the most awful false smile April had ever seen.

“What’s going on around here?” April asked her. “Why wasn’t I paged?”

Clarise’s smile faded as she realized that she wouldn’t be able to fool April with false security. Her eyes filled with tears or worry for April. She looked up into April’s large green eyes and took a deep breath to prepare herself in delivering the bad news.

But April was no longer paying any attention to Clarise. She had her eyes locked on something behind Clarise. Clarise turned to look. Amy was there, walking dazedly down the hall.

Amy had ridden with me in the ambulance and she was still stained with my blood.

April rushed to her and took her in her arms, hugged her and asked her if she was all right.

“April, I’m all right. I’m not hurt.”

But she was crying profusely, the tears smeared her mascara down her cheeks like long black skid marks. Amy had been loaned one of the police officers jackets, but it hung open so April could see that her bra, skin, and jeans were flaking with my dried, crusty blood.

“It’s Joe, April. He’s been hurt bad.”

“Oh no. No!” April wheeled around and flew toward the swinging doors into the ER, but Clarise was there to cut her off.

“I can’t let you go in there, baby.”

April tried to jerk away from Clarise’s grip, but it was no use. The big woman was strong and she held on tight.

“April, listen to me. April!” she shouted and April finally looked away from the ER and settled her gaze on Clarise. “There’s nothing to do but get your self in the way. You’re not being professional right now because it’s personal. Now, just stay out of the way and let Dr. Waters save your husband’s life.”

“No! Let me see him! Now!” She struggled again against Clarise’s grip. “Let go of me!”

Together, Amy and Clarise pulled April back toward the nurse’s lounge. They put my wife back on the couch that she’d just awakened from and Clarise sat next to her and held her tight as she told Amy to step into the adjacent bathroom and get cleaned up.

“There are some spare scrubs in the bureau in the corner. Put them on and trash those,” Clarise said, pointing at Amy’s blood-stained jeans and bra.

April seemed to be over her initial shock and display of hysterics and was now silently crying. She held her head in her hands and her tears seeped through her fingers.

Amy came out of the bathroom and threw her clothes into the wastebasket. She crossed to the bureau, donned a pair of teal nursing scrub, and sat down on the other side of April.

Clarise, with some difficulty, knelt down in front of April and grabbed her hands. “April, honey? I’m going to go see if I can find anything out for you, ok? Now you just stay here and I’ll be right back, all right?”

Clarise retreated from the room and it seemed to April that she had been gone for a long, long time. She was gone for more than an hour, but it seemed more like the entire morning was through and the sun should have been waking to the east. April thought that she was gone for so long that it was time for you to clock out, go home, and forget that anything bad was happening.

Amy took advantage of the silence to tell April the condensed version of the events that had transpired at the convenience store.

April looked up at the clock. It was only one-thirty in the morning. It wasn’t time to go home yet and there was no way she could ever forget the questions that rolled through her mind like gamblers dice. Was Joe dead? Dying? What exactly had happened? Oh, God, am I going to spend the rest of my life without him?

April and Amy sat in silence. April was silent from an unknown grief: Amy’s silence was spurned from shock. They held onto each other as if the world would soon end.

The door opened and both women looked up expectantly. Clarise glided through the door on graceful feet that you wouldn’t expect from a large woman. She smiled as she sat back down with Amy and April.

“Everything’s going to be all right, honey. Joe’s doing just fine.”

April was on her feet. “Can I see him?”

“Not just yet. Dr. Waters is still sewing him up. He’ll be out of surgery within the next hour then you can see him for a few minutes.” She turned her focus on Amy then. “The police were looking for you. They said you were supposed to give them a statement or something?”

Amy jumped up. “Oh, no. I completely forgot. They probably thing I’ve skipped town.” In a flash, she was out the door and into the hall.

Clarise looked April over and saw that the younger woman was somewhat back to her normal self. “I’ve got some charts that need to be run upstairs. Are you up to doing it?”

April looked up at Clarise; here eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. She would be more than happy to have something to do, anything to keep from worrying about me. She followed Clarise to the nurse’s station, got the charts, and busied herself for the next hour.

-------


After waking from surgery, I sat looking out at the glowing, early morning light of the city and wondered where April was. The door opened just as this thought crossed my mind and my beautiful wife walked in. Dr. Waters was close on her heels.

She stopped a couple of feet away from the edge of the bed and I saw her breath catch in her throat. At that moment, I thought she had never looked more beautiful and I’m sure that she thought that I had never looked more like a wounded puppy. She smiled at me and took my left hand, rubbing it gently with both of hers. Fresh tears strolled leisurely down her face, but she was smiling. That was a good thing.

My shoulder was tightly wrapped with bandages and gauze and a small strip of gauze was also taped to the side of my neck. The shoulder wound was beginning to seep blood again and I had this unnerving itch that couldn’t be relieved because of the cast on my arm.

“Can I take care of this?” April asked, pointing out the red stained bandages. Dr. Waters nodded and moved to the bed to help.

“Just a warning though, April. It looks pretty bad.”

She nodded as if she knew.

The two of them maneuvered me onto my left side and April began to unwrap the binding that covered my shoulder. It was worse than she had thought it would be. My shoulder was completely mangled and patched with stitches. Most of the bruised skin had been stretched tight over the holes that the shogun had blown away. Several of the contusions were seeping blood out from in between the stitches and April carefully wiped the blood away.

I clenched my teeth. Even with a nice steady flow of morphine mainlined into a vein in my arm; it really, really hurt. Even her lightest touches sent shrapnel’s of pain down my arm and into my back.

As she worked, she quizzed the doctor, “How extensive is the damage?”

Dr. Waters took a pen from his pocket and began pointing at various points along my shoulder as he spoke. “Most of his collar bone is shattered and there is extensive damage to the joint and muscles. I had to mesh most of the bone fragments together to heal. Lots of skin lacerations as you can tell…he’s probably got a million stitches. There is a majority of cuts and lacerations up and down his back and legs when he fell through the door. He’s pretty beat up. The arm and shoulder is going to take some extra therapy, but I don’t see why he can’t recover about ninety percent mobility. His shoulder will definitely let him know when the weather starts to change.”

Dr. Waters laughed at his lame attempt at humor as if it were the best joke he’d ever heard.

I didn’t like him and April (through past discussions with her) only liked his professionalism, not his personality. Like many doctors, Dr. Waters was a hard man to get along with, especially for a nurse.

“What about this?” April asked, brushing her fingers lightly over the bandage on my neck.

“That,” the doctor said, pausing for effect, “is the proof that if that gun would have swung around any farther, our Joe here wouldn’t have needed all that surgery last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, that is a scratch from one of the 12 gauge pellets that fired from that boys modified shotgun. Joe here caught the left most portion of the spread. Another inch and that pellet, and probably several more, would have done more damage than could be repaired. Your husband is a very lucky man.”