Disbelief

By The Flaming Dragonfly

This story contains graphic sexual violence and strong language. Reader discretion is strongly recommended.

I hate late calls, Johnny thought as he dashed for the squad. Just when the movie had been getting good, too. Chet had gotten them interested in one of his old monster movies, and the plot had been about to reach its climax when the klaxons sounded. An unknown type rescue. Johnny felt a twinge of anxiety when he heard the location. Several skirmishes between the largely unemployed population of the area and the police had occurred in recent weeks. It seemed that the heat of summer, combined with nothing to do, created a sense of antipathy among the residents.

Roy started the squad, and they pulled out, shivering a little in the cool air. The call took them into an old, run down section of the city, on streets that were lined with bars, cheap hotels, and hookers. Johnny searched for the particular bar they had been called to: Melvin's Place.

“There it is,” he said suddenly, pointing to a generic, concrete building with a flashing neon sign hanging haphazardly from one corner. Roy grunted in reply, parking the squad as close to the curb as he could manage. Several cars crowded the front of the bar, and groups of men hovered outside. The paramedics pulled their boxes of supplies from the compartments, then made their way through the men.

The bar assaulted their senses with the inevitable cigarette smoke and loud music. Somewhere they could hear a pair of voices raised in what seemed to be a rather boisterous argument, and nearly everyone in the bar paused to stare at the strangers.

Roy stepped to the counter and motioned for the bartender. “We got a call,” he said to the disinterested man. “Is someone sick or hurt?”

The man shrugged. “I don’ know what wrong wid ‘im, and I don’ care, but I ain’ havin’ no mess in here.”

“Who?” Roy asked.

The bartender pointed across the bar. “That fool over there. The one who puked all over hisself.”

Johnny and Roy looked and saw the man he was talking about. An obviously inebriated man had vomited and now sat on the floor propped up against the wall, his head thrown back. Roy glanced at Johnny, who made a face of resignation before leading the way to the fallen man.

Roy knelt down and tried to rouse the man. “Sir? Sir? Are you okay?”

“Wha—” The man slowly shook his head. “Wha d'you wan’?” he slurred.

“Sir, you've vomited. Do you feel sick?” Roy tried to keep the man's attention. “Sir, do you feel sick?”

“Get your hands off me!” the man said, struggling a little against Johnny's attempts to take his blood pressure. “I said...” He suddenly threw up, catching the dark-haired paramedic by surprise.

“Ah!” Johnny cried, tumbling backward. He grimaced as he surveyed the damage.

Roy tried to stifle a grin. “Okay, Johnny?”

His partner glared at him. “Just great,” he growled.

“Uh, sir, we need to check you out,” Roy tried.

“I’m fine,” the drunk replied as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Just leave me alone.”

Johnny stood up, holding his arms away from his body. “Sir, are you refusing treatment?”

The inebriated man glowered up at him. “Get outta my face,” he demanded, waving his hand. “Get away.”

A rumble seemed to traverse the bar, and the paramedics glanced around. The crowd of men had moved closer to them, not overtly threatening but giving warning signals just the same.

Roy climbed to his feet. “Let's just do the MICU and get out of here,” he suggested.

Johnny frowned. “Man, I gotta go wash up.”

“Well, make it quick,” Roy said strongly. “I’ll take the equipment out.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Roy picked up the biophone and drug box and started toward the door. The bartender called out to him.

“Where you goin’?” he demanded. “Take him wid you!”

Roy shook his head. “We can’t treat him without consent. He refuses treatment.”

The bartender glared at the paramedic. “Well, that jus’ great. Wastin’ my time with you white boys.”

Roy sighed, then continued to the door, fighting to make his way through the throng of people. The atmosphere in the bar was going decidedly downhill, with several patrons glowering at his back, and he fervently hoped his partner would hurry. He had a funny feeling about Johnny being alone in such a place.

<<<<<>>>>>

Johnny entered the men’s room, and after hesitating with a look of distaste on his face, leaned over the lone sink. He turned on the hot water faucet, waited a few minutes for the water to actually become warm, then gave up in disgust. He scrubbed the vomit from his arms and hands, grimacing as he realized that no soap was available. The final insult came when he reached for a paper towel and found none.

The squeak of the door told him that he was no longer alone in the bathroom. Vague uneasiness filled him, and he glanced into the broken mirror. Three men stood behind him, blocking the doorway.

“Hey, man, you got any money?” one man asked.

Johnny turned around, his dripping hands extended. “No, man, I don’t have any money. I’m a paramedic and—”

The second man stepped forward. Johnny immediately noticed a scar that deformed the man’s mouth, pulling one corner down into a constant frown. “Where yo money?” he demanded. “I know you got some.” He lifted a cue stick. “So where is it?”

“Hey, look, I’m telling you—” Johnny’s protest was cut short as the cue stick swung toward his head, and he was astounded by the crashing pain that resulted from the blow. He raised his hands to protect his head from further attack, reeling backward into the wall, but someone yanked him out and dug for his wallet.

“No…”

“Shut up,” someone snapped, and Johnny once again felt a crack against his head.

“Just—just take the wallet,” he croaked, peering at his attackers through squinting eyes. He shrank back as he saw the scarred man lift the cue stick once again. “Just take—”

His words were choked off by yet another blow across his head, and his knees began to buckle.

“Aw, man!” The man who had taken the wallet dropped it in disgust. “Five dollars! That all he has, man! Five dollars!”

The scarred man raised the cue stick and jabbed Johnny in the back. “Man, you wastin' my time! You fancy white boys comin' here where you don't belong, messin’ wid us, thinkin’ you better than us. You shouldn’t come out here, white boy!” He raised the cue stick and brought it down against John’s back, punctuating each strike with a shout.

Johnny tried to protect himself as the cue stick was pounded into his back, but everywhere he turned he felt the blows. He collapsed onto the floor, and immediately realized the mistake when a booted foot kicked him in the gut.

Another kick to his groin made the room spin, and tears squeezed from his tightly

closed eyes as he gasped through the pain. He attempted to curl up, but he felt himself being dragged, and the sudden increase in the noise level told him that he was out of the men's room and in the bar. Cigarette smoke gagged him and burned his eyes, and he knew that he was being punched, but he no longer felt pain. Hands grabbed at him, ripping his uniform into shreds, pinching his skin and gouging his flesh. Someone pushed him forward until his hips hit an obstacle and he doubled over. His face slammed down onto something hard...he finally recognized the felt surface of a pool table. A black ball rolled lazily toward him, bumping into his nose before gently retreating.

And then, as if in answer to his deepest fears, he felt fingers tugging at his belt, and his pants were wrenched to his ankles. No…no…this can’t be happening…not this…but then his boxers were yanked down as well, and hideous whoops and shouts bombarded his ears, and he screamed.

<<<<<>>>>>

Outside the bar, Roy became aware of a rising commotion inside. He turned from closing the compartment door and noticed that several of the men who had been milling about outside were now crowding in through the door. He craned his neck in an attempt to see inside, but the mass of men made it impossible for him to discern anything.

I don’t know what’s going on, he thought, but I sure hope Johnny had enough sense to stay out of it.

<<<<<>>>>>

Oh God…Roy…

Someone shoved him from behind, nearly lifting his feet from the floor. His arms were each pulled out to the side, held by hard hands that mocked his puny strength. And then, as disbelief flooded his breast, and as his mind and maybe even his mouth chanted over and over stop… please don’t do this…please don’t do this…stop…stop…stop…he knew, he knew that something unspeakable was about to happen.

<<<<<>>>>>

Roy stood as close to the entrance as he could get, straining to get through the throng. He could discern shouts coming from the back of the bar, and occasional words reached his ears…words that scared the hell out of him.

<<<<<>>>>>

Someone grabbed him from behind, crushing his testicles. He yelled and tried to rise, but a blow to the back of his head smashed his face back onto the table. He felt blood pool around his nose.

Words…laughter…savagery. “Ride ‘em, man…C’mon, do it…Lemme at that white ass…”

A movement behind him…unable to see…his arms pulled so tight he thought they would be torn from their sockets. Suddenly he felt a tearing sensation in his rectum that wrenched a scream from his very being. He choked, coughed, cried from the pain and from the absolute disbelief. Mauls of voices pounded into his hearing, obscene shouts, urging, cheering, timed to the savage thrusts that invaded his bowels. Somewhere he could hear a familiar voice…his own…crying, begging, cursing, pleading…

The movements stopped, and he felt his attacker pull away from him. But the reprieve only lasted a moment, and another body pressed against his buttocks, and he felt the horribly familiar pressure as he was once again violated. This time the pumping was faster and more violent, and he sobbed and screamed, feeling as though his innards were being ripped apart.

The attacker finished with a final thrust that brought such intense pain Johnny thought he would now die. Tears streaming down his cheeks, his every breath a heaving, rasping cry, he fell like a rag doll when released.

<<<<<>>>>>

“I need backup here, now! I don’t know…my partner’s in there, and there’s a mob…I don’t know what’s happening!”

Roy dropped the microphone, whirling in terror as a piercing scream reached his ears.

“Johnny!” He flung himself into the crowd, and even managed to make some headway into the bar, but then angry hands pushed at him, shoving him away from the nether world of the dark bar.

“Get outta here, man!” someone shouted, grabbing at his arm.

“Bring ‘im in!” another man taunted. “He wants to be part of the party!”

Roy backed away, torn by his desperation to get to his partner and the realization that the situation had spiraled completely out of control. He was almost glad that he couldn’t get back into the bar…he was afraid of falling to the same fate as his partner, and he felt his throat burn with shame at his own cowardice. He paced furiously around the squad, dividing his time between listening for a siren and drowning out the cries that he knew came from Johnny.

<<<<<>>>>>

He could not move. Every fiber of his body felt as though it was in spasms. Squinting through the darkness and the hazy smoke, he realized that he sat propped against someone’s legs, and then his hair was grabbed and his head was pulled back so that his mouth lolled open.

The buckle of an unfastened belt glinted through the darkness. Johnny slowly realized that he was watching someone masturbate inches from his face. He clamped his mouth shut.

“Do it, man…do it…do it…”

No…no…

He turned his head away…a fist smashed his chin…he whimpered through clenched teeth.

A kick to his gut made him gasp. For an instant he smelled hot, sweaty skin, heard the chant, saw the blackness closing in, and then he was thrust backward, gagging on the erect penis as it was pushed again and again into his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t react, couldn’t do anything but weep as the unbelievable act continued.

The ejaculation made him choke uncontrollably, spitting and retching, collapsing when they finally let him go.

“White boy can’t swallow a real cock…lemme try it…”

He felt hands pulling at him, and he knew that he couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t…

“No! No! Go away!”

They all shouted. They shouted at him and at each other and then they began to run, scrambling and stumbling over his body. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, his breaths raspy and labored, his body convulsing with tremors.

<<<<<>>>>>

The cavalry arrived. Roy jettisoned himself toward the engine, intercepting Cap before the latter had even opened the door. At the same time, Vince and another cop pulled up.

“Johnny’s in there! The mob…I don’t know what’s happening…hurry!”

Cap quickly took in the scene and instructed his men to make use of the hoses. Vince hurtled himself into the mass of men, barking orders to the firemen. High-pressure streams of water dispersed the crowd, allowing the police and firemen to safely enter the bar. Roy slipped in, carrying the biophone and trauma box.

Pandemonium reigned, but Roy used his slight familiarity with the bar to head toward the restroom. And there, curled on the floor next to the pool table, his pants pulled down to his ankles and his shirt ripped and stained with blood, lay his partner. As Roy got closer he could see more blood smeared across John’s buttocks, and the enormity of what had happened nearly stopped him cold.

I could have stopped this…I should have gotten back in…

“Johnny…my God.”

<<<<<>>>>>

He heard a voice. Calm and petrified at the same time…familiar…lifesaver…but too late…

His name called over and over…warm hands gently pushing him onto his back. He parted his eyelids. Roy. No…go away…

“It’s okay, Johnny. Just lie still. Everything’s okay now.”

Liar…

“It’s okay now.”

Johnny closed his eyes again, tears escaping from between his dark eyelashes. He heard Cap’s voice, and Vince’s. Roy’s quiet words directing, and Chet’s hushed responses. He felt a blanket covering his nakedness, and a squeezing sensation indicated that someone had placed the BP cuff around his arm.

“He’s cold.” Chet. Scared out of his wits.

“That and shock.” Roy. “One hundred over eighty.”

“Roy, the ambulance is here.” Cap.

“Okay. We’ll be through here in just a minute.” Johnny felt Roy’s hand rest on his belly, under the blanket. “Respirations twenty-four. Have you got Rampart?”

“Yeah.” Johnny could hear Chet speaking quietly, and he guessed that he had contacted the hospital. For me?

“IV. Ringers lactate. Oxygen. Roy, his mouth…oh, man.”

My mouth…He moved his tongue and immediately regretted it. Sticky semen coated his tongue and lips and he gagged all over again, retching and frantically wiping at his face to get rid of the filth, but hands pulled at him, preventing him from cleaning away the horrible reminder of the attack. He lurched over and vomited bile, then coughed so hard that he was sure his guts were being torn out. The coughing brought on more gagging, which in turn caused more retching, yet he could still feel the disgusting residue in his mouth. In a panic he struck out with his hands, feeling that he was being smothered.

Many hands…holding his arms and legs…he couldn’t move…

<<<<<>>>>>

Roy recognized the expression on Johnny’s face, although he had never seen it on his partner before. Sheer, unadulterated panic.

“Back off!” he ordered. “Everybody, back off!”

Cap, Vince, Chet, and Marco all reluctantly released their hold on Johnny. Roy alone knelt next to him.

“Johnny, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re safe. Do you understand me?”

Blank eyes lifted to his. Blank eyes that transformed into expressions of incredible hurt. Roy found that he couldn’t turn away.

Chet’s voice broke the trance. “Roy, Rampart wants to know our status.”

“Right.” Roy seemed to shake himself. “Johnny, we’re gonna start an IV on you, and then you’re on the way to the hospital. I’m gonna give you some oxygen, okay?”

He held up the mask as if waiting for John’s permission, but he received nothing. Johnny lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

Roy glanced up at the others, then started the IV. Chet quietly spoke into the biophone, and Cap sent Marco to guide the ambulance attendants.

Johnny flinched as the needle pierced his vein. Roy swallowed. “Sorry, Johnny.”

“Where…where…were you?”

“What?” Roy stared at his partner, his face suddenly white.

“Where were you?” Johnny’s words, whispered and yet as forceful as if he had shouted them, split Roy’s chest into two.

“Johnny…” Roy stopped, his mouth seeming to be caught between a sob and a frantic explanation. “I—I couldn’t get back in. The crowd—they were crazy. It was a mob. I called the police. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Johnny looked away, and Roy could see tremors race their way across his body.

“Johnny, please understand—”

“Roy.” Chet caught Roy’s eye and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Roy said to Johnny as much as to Chet. “I’m so sorry.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Drifting…far away. Roy and Cap and Chet had faded from him, which was good. He couldn’t look at them any longer…didn’t want to look at them any longer. The smoky air and the occasional shouts and the sharp retorts of authority still blasted into his consciousness, but even those reminders were being pushed away. He floated...slowly, carefully, landing on a firm cloud that enveloped his body and that gently rocked him. Cool breezes wafted over his face, but an irritating light flashed, and he closed his eyes to block the pain. No more pain…no more memories…it all needed to go away. They all needed to go away…

<<<<<>>>>>

Roy stood back as Johnny was lifted into the ambulance. He had tried to avoid thinking about what had happened to his friend in the bar, but the reality picked away at him, refusing to allow him peace.

I should have gotten to him. Look what I’ve done…

Cap had patted him on the shoulder as the gurney had been wheeled out of the bar, and Chet had mumbled something encouraging, but Roy knew that the nightmare of what had happened was just beginning.

He climbed into the ambulance and sat next to Johnny. He noticed that his partner’s eyes were closed, but he was sure that he was fully conscious.

“Just hold on, Johnny,” he said quietly.

He could see John’s eyes move under the lids, and the steady breathing became ragged. Suspicious moisture developed in the corner of each eye.

“Hold on.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Roy’s fingers once again slipped around his wrist. The fingers felt ice cold and stiff, like a corpse. The BP cuff tightened around his arm. A hand reached under the blanket, lying carefully on his belly, and he jerked, his eyes flying open.

Roy removed his hand and said something low, something that he couldn’t hear. Probably an apology.

He heard his partner talking on the biophone. The monotone of his voice didn’t allow him to hear the words. What’s he saying?

The ambulance slowed, then backed into the emergency entrance of Rampart, and with breathtaking shock Johnny remembered why he was on a stretcher. Suddenly the oxygen mask seemed to be suffocating him, sucking air instead of providing it, and he pulled it away from his face.

“Leave that on, Johnny.”

“Fuck you.” The words slipped out, and he watched Roy’s face transform from concern to hurt and shock. He turned his head away.

“Exam Three.” Dr. Early fell in beside the gurney. Johnny could feel the doctor’s gaze, but he didn’t meet his eyes.

He allowed them to move him to the exam table, but when Dixie went to lift the blanket, he grabbed the edge and pulled it to his chin. “No!”

“Okay, Johnny. You just keep it for now.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m just trying to help you, Johnny. I know you’ve been through a lot tonight.”

He lifted his head to see Roy. “Ask him what I’ve been through. He knows.”

The stricken expression on Roy’s face tore at him. He could hear whispers, then the door opened and someone left. He felt sure that Roy had left.

Dr. Early leaned over him. “All right, Johnny. Let’s take a look.”

“No.”

“No? Johnny, you need to trust us. We only want to help you. No one is going to hurt you. Now let’s move the blanket.”

Johnny held on even harder. “I—I don’t have—my clothes. They—ripped—uh, they were ripped.”

“That’s okay, Johnny. We’ll cover you with a sheet, and we’ll only uncover what we need to check, okay? Will you let us?”

They’re going to see…they’re going to know. “I can’t,” he said, his voice beginning to shake. “I can’t.” He turned away, and tears slipped down his cheek. “Is Roy gone?” he asked hoarsely.

“No,” Dixie supplied quickly. “He’s waiting in the hall.”

“Can—can you ask him to come in?”

“You bet.” Dixie squeezed his shoulder. A moment later he heard Roy’s tread in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny called out, unable to turn to face his friend.

“It’s okay.”

“All right, then, let’s get the sheet ready.” Dr. Early placed his hand on Johnny’s arm. “We need to do this, Johnny. I promise we’ll be gentle.”

The sheet was placed over the blanket, then the blanket was pulled away. Johnny focused on the ceiling as Dr. Early first shined a penlight into each of his eyes.

“Do you have a headache, Johnny?”

“Yeah.” Johnny flinched as Early’s hands probed his skull.

“You may have a concussion. You’ve got some nasty bumps.” The doctor finished his examination of Johnny’s head, including a look at his nose and mouth, both of which had been bleeding. “How about your ribs? Any tenderness?”

Johnny braced himself for Early’s palpitations of his ribcage. Several areas were sore, and he groaned.

“Looks like you might have some cracked ribs. We’ll get some x-rays. How about your arms and legs? Any pain?”

“No.” Johnny clasped his hands together in an attempt to keep them from trembling so violently.

“All right then.” Early paused, and Johnny squeezed his eyes shut to keep more tears from escaping. “We need to check down here, now.” He touched Johnny’s hip. “Okay?”

Roy cleared his throat. “Uh, Doc, do you want me to leave?”

“No, stay!” Johnny blurted. He met his partner’s eyes, embarrassed at his outburst but desperate for him to stay. “Please.”

Roy managed a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Johnny lay absolutely still except for the tremors that traveled up and down his body. He stared at the ceiling as he felt the sheet being moved, and he tried to block out the doctor’s quiet comments. So determined was he to remove himself from the situation that he violently started when Dixie leaned into his face.

“Johnny?”

“Wh—what?” he stammered.

Early answered. “Were you kicked or hit in your groin?”

“Er—yeah.” They hurt me…my God how they hurt me.

Early’s reassuring voice reached through his rapidly blinking eyes. “You’ve got some bruising and swelling, but I don’t think there’s any serious damage.”

The examination continued. He could feel Dr. Early’s gentle probing, and he was irresistibly drawn back to the attack and the brutality of the men. His shaking grew progressively worse, and he opened his eyes to see Roy move closer to him.

“It’s okay, Johnny,” his partner told him. “Almost done.”

“Johnny,” Dr. Early said, “I need you to roll on your side, okay?”

He shivered even harder. Not this. I can’t.

“Come on, Johnny,” Dixie coaxed, nudging his shoulder.

“No.” They hurt me…I can’t…

He found himself on his side. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten there, but then he felt someone touching him, and even though the hands that probed him were careful and non-threatening, panic overtook him. With a cry of raw fear, he scrambled off the table, wrapping the sheet tightly around him. The IV ripped from his vein, sending a stream of blood down his arm. He backed against the wall, facing three people who had been close friends for years but who now were as alien as the men who had attacked him in the bar.

“Stay away from me.”

He watched his friends watch him, all four of them wary and confused. It was Dr. Early who sized up the situation first.

“It’s okay, Johnny. I know this is very difficult for you, but we’re all here to help you.”

“I want to go home.” Despite his best intentions, his voice cracked.

Roy cautiously approached him. “I’ll take you, but you need to let Dr. Early finish the exam.”

“Take me home, Roy. You promised.” He pleaded with his eyes, his voice, his being. “Now.”

“You may have a concussion. You need x-rays. Just let Dr. Early finish, and then I’ll take you right home. Okay?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ kid!” Johnny shouted. “Just take me home!” He stumbled backward against the wall, knocking into several instruments, and the crash sounded like a thousand fireworks exploding in his head. He whirled, his hands covering his ears, the sheet still grasped in his fingers.

“Take me home,” he cried, losing his battle with his fragile emotions. “Roy, you promised!” He stumbled for the door, only stopping when Dixie literally threw her arms around him, and he stood against her, allowing her soothing words to penetrate his growing panic.

“Johnny, I know you’ve been through a horrible ordeal, but you’ve got to let us help you. We’re all your friends, you know that. We wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but you could have some serious injuries, and we want to help you. Will you let us?”

Johnny shook his head. “I can’t…I’m sorry, Dix, but I just can’t. I’ve gotta go home. Roy promised to take me home. I’ll be okay, but I’ve gotta go home.” As he spoke he wormed his way from Dixie’s grasp, once again backing away from his friends. “Just…just let me go, please. I’m okay now. Really. I’ll take some aspirin, and I’ll get some rest, I promise, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Johnny,” Dr. Early said, stepping up to Dixie, “I promise we’ll let you go home, but you need to let us take care of you first.” He extended his hand. “Won’t you let us help you?”

“I can’t,” he said, his eyes tearing. “Please understand. I can’t do it.”

Dixie tried again. “Johnny, you need to understand our viewpoint. We are obligated to protect our patients. We can’t just let you walk out of here like that. You’ve been injured, and we want to help you. That’s what we’re here for. And that’s doubly true for a friend. Just think how you feel when someone refuses treatment when you try to help them. You know that they need your help, but they won’t let you. Doesn’t that bother you? I know it does.”

Johnny shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said. “Just let me out of here. You can’t force me to stay.”

Dr. Early stepped a little closer. “Johnny, I don’t want to force you, but I will if need be. Now come on back to the table.”

John raised his hand. “Doc, I’m leaving. I want some clothes so that I can go. Please.”

Dixie placed her hands on her hips. “John Gage, I can’t believe that you’re fighting us like this. I know you’re upset, but—”

“You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling!” Johnny interrupted with a savagery that stopped the nurse cold. “How the hell would you know what I’m feeling? Any of you?”

“Johnny—”

“No!” Johnny stumbled to the door. “I’m leaving, and if you won’t give me something to wear I’ll just go like this! It doesn’t matter to me, but I’m leaving and that’s all there is to it.” He glared at the trio, daring them to try anything more to convince him to stay, his chest heaving with a mixture of emotions. Tears filled his eyes, and he furiously wiped his face with the sheet, but his resolve never wavered. He was leaving, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Johnny, listen to me.” Dixie had inched closer to the distraught paramedic, and he fixed anguished eyes on her. “Just come back to the bed and lie down and we’ll let you rest for awhile. We won’t bother you, I promise. Will you do that for me? Just lie down on the bed. We can get x-rays and finish up later. Please?”

He could feel his determination to leave begin to dissolve. Immense weariness had slipped into his limbs, replacing the tense fear. Just to lie down, to rest. To forget…

“Okay,” he whispered, dropping his hands a little as his muscles relaxed as one. “I’ll lie down.”

Early, Roy, and Dixie all sighed in relief, but Johnny never noticed as he took faltering steps back to the bed. Dixie helped get him situated and restarted his IV, while Dr. Early and Roy watched from the doorway. The nurse flashed a brief smile as she joined the men, and they slipped into the hall.

“Good work, Dix,” Early said. “I really thought he was going to leave.”

“Well, sometimes it takes a woman’s touch,” she replied, pleased.

Early turned to Roy. “We’ll keep an eye on him, Roy. I don’t believe he has a rectal perforation, but later I’ll have to do a more thorough exam. We’ll let him calm down for a bit.”

“Sounds good, doc,” Roy said, yawning.

Dixie raised her eyebrows. “You’d better get going,” she said. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Yawning again, Roy turned and made his way to the doors.

<<<<<>>>>>

“Hey, Roy.” Dwyer looked up from the table in the kitchen as he set his cup of coffee down.

Roy sat next to him, eyeing the coffee with surprise. “Dwyer, it’s two in the morning,” he observed.

“Yeah. Great time for coffee.” The replacement paramedic grinned, then turned somber. “I heard about Gage. It’s hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from a bad dream.”

Dwyer took a sip of coffee. “How…how bad…well, you know.”

“Bad. I don’t know all the details yet, but he’s really been traumatized.”

“Man. This job just gets more and more dangerous.”

“Yeah. And I felt so helpless. I mean, it was a mob scene. I couldn’t get near him. I know he blames me.”

Dwyer shook his head. “That’s too bad. I wonder—”

The klaxons sounded, and Dwyer’s sentence was left unfinished as the paramedics trotted to the squad.

<<<<<>>>>>

Johnny had thought that he would immediately fall asleep in the darkened room, but the pain that tore through his body whenever he moved kept him awake. He huddled into the covers, pulling them closer to his head. It wasn’t that he was cold. Rather, he felt vulnerable with his body uncovered.

A wave of fear flooded him. He was alone. Abandoned. Adrenaline rushed through his body, and despite the pain he sat up, scanning the exam room for any movement. Of course there was none, and he wearily lay back down, but his heart continued to pound in his chest. He knew that his eyes glistened with tears, but he ignored them until one slipped across the bridge of his nose.

No. I won’t cry. I can get through this. I will get through this.

But the wet spot on his pillow grew progressively larger, and the blood that had begun to seep from his body soaked through the blanket and sheets, creating an ever-increasing stain across the table.

He awoke with a start and looked around with no idea of where he was. His body seemed to be strangely numb, and his surroundings loomed like a nightmare.

He sat up, still not feeling any sensations, and after a moment slipped from the exam table. He could feel a wetness in the sheet that he pulled around his shoulders as he walked, and a sense of faraway discomfort poked at the edges of his consciousness, but he felt no alarm. He found himself before an automatic door, and as it opened he stumbled through, just making it to the outside wall before falling.

The impact brought back the sensations of his body with a vengeance. He gasped in pain, wondering what had happened to cause so much agony.

Lying across a pool table…his arms held on each side…

Shouting…chanting…and then the pain…the horrible violation…

“No…oh, no…” He lay on the pavement and wept.

For an eternity he cried, and suddenly he didn’t know why he was crying.

A gray, muted calm settled over him, providing a type of relief that almost took away the memories. Distant noises caught a bit of his attention, and he listened with mild interest to the sound of an engine.

Then he heard voices, at first difficult to hear and then much closer. As if from far away he saw his partner lean over him, and for the second time that interminable night he found himself experiencing Roy’s skills as a paramedic.

<<<<<>>>>>

On a gurney. He recognized the rolling sensation. People all around him. Roy. Dr. Early. Dixie. Dwyer.

Roy’s voice. “He was lying in the ambulance bay. I’m glad we didn’t hit him.”

Dixie patting his shoulder. “Johnny, what are we going to do with you?”

Back in the exam room. Something about bloody sheets…

Dr. Early’s soft voice, speaking to someone behind him. The clatter of instruments.

The sheet pulled away. Too weak to move…too ashamed to lie still...

Lying on his side, exposed with his knees pulled up. A new sheet covered his shoulders and his legs, but he could feel the cool air on his back and buttocks.

“Okay Johnny. We’re going to take a look. You may have a perforation. This is going to hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

No…no… “No.”

He involuntarily gasped as he felt Dr. Early’s hands, and his muscles tensed in a panic-driven spasm. He could see Dixie’s face close to his, and he knew that she was speaking to him, but he heard nothing but the cheering mob.

Once again he felt himself being horribly violated, felt the invasion of his body, his privacy, his dignity. He choked back a sob, swallowing convulsively in a vain attempt to keep from weeping, grasping Dixie’s hand in desperation as Dr. Early performed the necessary exam.

<<<<<>>>>>

Roy started to go to his friend but stopped, remembering the blame that Johnny had placed on him. He felt Dwyer’s hand on his arm, asking him to leave the room with him, but he shrugged it off. He watched as Johnny trembled so violently that Dixie could scarcely hold his hand. He saw the look that the doctor and nurse exchanged, and he knew that John had been badly hurt in the attack. He knew that the experiences of the night had irrevocably changed his partner and friend, lowering him into the depths of torture and embarrassment and shame, and the realization drove him to a level of rage that surprised and frightened him.

Those bastards…I’ll kill them. He saw Johnny squeeze Dixie’s hand so hard she winced, saw the tears of pain and utter humiliation, heard the muffled sobs that his friend tried so hard to hide. His own chest heaved as he attempted to control his emotions, knowing that Johnny needed him to be strong, but unsure if he could handle the raw hatred that coursed through his breast. I’ll kill them…

A knock on the door caused all five inhabitants of the exam room to jump, then Roy went to open the door. Vince stood outside.

“Hey, Roy. How’s he doing?”

Roy noticed the incident report the policeman was holding. “Not too great. Dr. Early’s still checking him out.”

“I n