Disbelief
(Edited Version)
Some time ago I wrote this story,
Disbelief. I received considerable feedback, and while the majority was
positive, a small faction was critical of my portrayal of the rape scene. I also
was accused of being racist in my portrayal of the antagonists. Despite the
criticism, I have chosen to keep the original version posted. I stand by my
work, and although I have produced this slightly edited version for those
readers who enjoyed the story but were uncomfortable with some of the graphic
sexual content, I continue to defend the original version. I welcome all
feedback, and I hope that those readers who wish to avoid R rated stories will
consider this offering.
Warning: this version still contains
strong language and references to sexual violence.
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.
<<<<<>>>>>
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.
<<<<<>>>>>
“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.
<<<<<>>>>>
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.”
Johnny suddenly felt sick. 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.
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 need to talk to him as soon as
possible—get a report.”
“Right. It’ll be a few minutes.”
“No problem. Hope he’s okay.”
“Yeah.” Roy nodded as he closed the door.
Johnny’s panicked cry brought him rushing
to his side.
“Roy! Roy! Where are you?”
“Right here, Johnny.” Roy leaned into
Johnny’s face. “I’m right here. See?”
He watched as the younger man struggled to
focus on his face. “Where were you?” John cried. “I couldn’t see you!”
Roy gestured toward the door. “I was just
talking to Vince,” he explained.
“But I couldn’t see you!” Johnny repeated.
He released Dixie’s hand and reached for Roy’s.
“Stay here!” he pleaded.
“I will,” Roy replied, taking hold of
John’s hand. “I won’t leave again.”
Johnny suddenly jumped. “No!” he exclaimed
hoarsely. “No, stop!” He attempted to twist around, reaching behind him to swing
his arm at Dr. Early. “Stop!”
Roy grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled it
toward him. “Lie still, Johnny,” he said urgently.
But Johnny began to struggle in earnest.
“Get away from me! I won’t let you do it again!” He thrashed uncontrollably,
obviously in the throes of a horrific flashback, and as Dr. Early and Roy and
Dwyer worked to restrain their friend, Dixie ran for assistance.
<<<<<>>>>>
Hands…holding him…invading him…it was
happening all over again…
He fought for his life, but nothing he did
seemed to matter. Just like before.
“Let me go! No! Don’t do it again!
Please!”
More people…more hands holding him. He
screamed…cried…begged.
Someone fell away…he struck out again,
feeling an arm waver under his blow. He kicked, heard a cry. He twisted, freed
one arm, then another.
But just as quickly he felt his limbs
being restrained once again, pulling him into the vulnerable position that had
brought on such panic. Exposed…open…violated. He couldn’t move…couldn’t escape.
Too many hands holding him.
Helpless. And then he felt the invasion.
“No!” he shrieked, fighting against the
hands. “No! Not again!”
<<<<<>>>>>
Roy held on tighter. He could feel his
friend’s muscles tense into rock-hard density born of a terror that overwhelmed
reason. He could hear Dr. Early’s terse commands to the nurses, and over it all
Johnny’s cries as he was wrenched through the assault all over again.
At last it was over. Dr. Early withdrew
the probe and pulled the sheet over Johnny’s body once again. He vaguely heard
the doctor comment that there was no perforation, just lacerations and bruising,
and for an insane moment he felt like breaking into hysterical laughter. Sure,
Doc. Just lacerations and bruising. Johnny’s one hell of a lucky guy.
For his part, John seemed to have
withdrawn into a trance of silence and immobility. He didn’t object or help when
he was moved onto his back, and he didn’t acknowledge Dixie when she smoothed
his hair.
He never moved when the x-ray machine was
brought in, and when Roy followed Dr. Early back into the room he immediately
noticed that the patient had not changed position. Johnny didn’t respond when
Roy told him that Cap had gotten a replacement for him as well and that he was
going to spend the night at Rampart, nor did he reply to any questions. He just
stared at the ceiling with unblinking eyes.
At last Johnny slept. Roy watched him for a minute to make sure, then he tiptoed from the room.
A glance at his watch told him that it was
hard on four in the morning, and he knew that he should be exhausted, but the
adrenaline rush that had sustained him from the bar to the hospital continued.
The anger also continued.
Vince had left an hour ago, after
receiving Early’s report. Johnny’s statement would have to wait until later in
the morning, when he would hopefully be able to communicate with some clarity.
The report had sickened Roy. Based on the
physical evidence, it was apparent that Johnny had been the victim of a series
of brutal attacks. Roy didn’t like to imagine what Johnny had gone through, but
he found that he couldn’t completely block out the images. He had seen much in
his years as a paramedic, but the fact that his friend had experienced a sexual
assault made him want to throw up.
It also made him want to drive back to the
bar and…
And what? What could he do? Fall victim to
the same kind of attack? What possible good would that do for Johnny?
I don’t know what to do or how I should
feel. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him in the morning.
And what do I say when he asks me where
I was? Maybe if I had tried harder…maybe if I had gotten the fire extinguisher,
maybe I could’ve gotten back in. Maybe if I’d just tried something…anything…
Roy DeSoto wrenched himself from the wall
and made his way to the men’s room, where he leaned over the commode and threw up.
<<<<<>>>>>
The busy morning routine awakened Johnny.
He opened his eyes and was immediately aware of a pounding headache. The next
thing he realized was that he was lying in a hospital bed and that any movement
caused excruciating pain. Especially…back there.
God help me. It’s true. It really
happened. He felt the tears but this time did nothing to stop them. The
enormity of what had happened to him crushed any resolve he still possessed, and
he gave in to absolute wretchedness.
<<<<<>>>>>
Roy sat up. Johnny lay with his back to
him and obviously didn’t realize that he was in the room with him, or else he
would surely have tried to hide the sobs. Oh Johnny. What have they done to
you? What have I done to you?
He shifted in his chair, faced with the
dilemma of letting his friend know he was present without embarrassing him. A
sudden knock at the door solved his problem. Johnny rolled over, wiping his face
with the sheet. His face froze in shock when he saw Roy.
The door opened and Vince poked his head
in. “Hey, Roy,” he greeted, nodding. “I was hoping to speak to John. Is he
awake?”
Roy gestured toward Johnny, who was trying
to unobtrusively dry his face before Vince came in.
The policeman entered hesitantly. “John,
I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve got to get a statement. I’ve already spoken to
Dr. Early and Roy, and you’re the last one.”
“So—” Johnny had to pause to clear his
throat. “So what do you want to know?”
Vince opened his pad. “Well, I know that
you went into the men’s room at Melvin’s Place while Roy took the equipment
outside. What I need to know is what exactly happened after that.”
Johnny briefly met Roy’s eyes before
looking down at his hands. “I was jumped,” he said shortly.
“How many men?” Vince asked, writing.
“I don’t know. Two at first. Three.”
“Okay. And I know that you ended up in the
bar itself. Did they take you out of the men’s room?”
“Yeah.” Johnny had begun twisting the
sheet in his hands.
“Then what happened?”
“They jumped me.”
Vince glanced up at him. “The same men? Or
more?”
Johnny twisted faster. “More,” he said in
a low voice.
“And they beat you?”
“Yeah.”
“And…?”
Johnny did not answer. He dropped the
sheet, only to pick it up again.
Vince stepped closer. “John, I’ve already
spoken to Dr. Early,” he said softly. “But I need you to tell me what happened.
I need your statement.”
“No,” Johnny whispered.
“I know that it’s difficult,” Vince
pressed, “but you can’t let them get away with what they did to you. You need to
give a statement.”
“I told you. They…beat me.”
Vince took a deep breath. “How many men
sexually assaulted you, John? Two? Three?”
Johnny blinked hard. “None.”
“Was it more than one?”
“I—it was—I wasn’t—”
Vince lowered his report. “John, I know it
happened. Now I want to catch them and put them away for what they did to you.”
Johnny wiped his face with the sheet.
“I—can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Don’t let them get away
with this, John. Now how many men sexually assaulted you?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Was it more than one?”
“Uh…” Johnny valiantly forced his panic
down. “Uh…yeah.”
“What about the oral penetration? How
many?”
The tears slipped. Johnny sniffed and
wiped his eyes. “Just one,” he finally said in a tiny voice.
Vince looked up from his writing. “Did he
also penetrate you anally?”
Johnny’s eyes brimmed with new tears. “I
don’t know,” he said through a sob, bringing the sheet to his face.
“Okay. Were you restrained during the
attack?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
Johnny shuddered. “Uh…my arms. They…held
me. On the pool table.”
“So they bent you over the pool table and
assaulted you from behind?”
John could only nod this time.
“Did you get a look at any of your
attackers?”
The nod turned into a vehement shake.
“No!”
Vince eyed him closely. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“What about the guys who first attacked
you in the men’s room? Did you get a look at them?”
The men’s faces appeared in Johnny’s mind.
Angry. Uncontrollable. Sadistic. “No.”
“Were they black or white?”
“Uh…black.”
“Did they say anything indicating why they
were attacking you?”
“No.”
Vince again looked at him. “Do you
remember anything that they said?”
Ride ‘em, man. C’mon, do it. Lemme at
that white ass.
“No.”
“Okay.” Vince wrote some more. “How long
did the attack last?”
An eternity. “I…don’t know.”
“Uh, Vince,” Roy broke in tentatively.
“I’d say it was about fifteen minutes before we were able to get to him.”
Vince nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Roy.”
Johnny glared at Roy. Fifteen minutes!
Fifteen minutes of hell! Fifteen minutes of sheer torture, abandoned by his
friends and left to fend for himself. “Fifteen minutes,” he muttered.
“What’s that, John?” Vince asked.
“Nothing.” He stared at his hands until the policeman finally nodded and closed his report.
“Okay, that’s everything. I’ll be in
touch. Take care, man.”
Roy hesitated by the door, anxious to get
out of the room. “Well, I’m gonna take off, Johnny. Uh, I’ll take you home when
Dr. Early releases you, so don’t worry about that.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Johnny told his hands.
“Yeah, well, okay.” Roy wavered in the
doorway. “Y’know, you’re welcome to stay with me for awhile, until you get back
on your feet.”
“No. Thanks.”
Roy moved through the doorway. “Okay. Uh,
can I get you something? A magazine or something?”
Johnny swallowed hard. “No. I’m fine.”
“Okay. Uh, I’ll see you later.” Roy
finally made his escape, and fled down the hall of Rampart.
<<<<<>>>>>
Johnny was released from the hospital two
days later, and as promised Roy arrived to take him home. The pair had spoken
little during the two days, although Roy had made several attempts to draw John
into conversation during his visits. The dark-haired paramedic only responded to
direct questions, and did not initiate discussions. As Roy waited for Johnny to
get dressed, Dixie called him aside.
“Roy, I know you’ll watch out for Johnny,
but I just wanted you to know that he’s really having a hard time.”
“I know, Dix, believe me.”
The nurse took Roy’s arm. “You know that
he blames you for what happened.” she stated.
Roy sighed. “Yeah, I know. And part of me
doesn’t blame him. Maybe if I’d tried harder to get back to him or something.”
“Well, I don’t think you need to feel
guilty, Roy. But just be aware of how he’s feeling.”
“I am.” Roy tried to smile, failed, and
went back to wait for his friend.
<<<<<>>>>>
“Why don’t you stay at my house for a few
days?” Roy asked again as they settled in his car. “I asked Joanne about it, and
she’s fine—”
“No.”
Roy sighed, having become accustomed to
his friend’s cursory method of answering questions lately. “Well, I’ll check up
on you until you come back to work.”
“Whatever.”
Roy pulled out of the hospital parking
lot. “Make sure you take the stool softeners they gave you. And keep ice on—”
“I know what to do,” Johnny broke in.
“I know you do, Johnny. I’m just concerned
about you.”
“Too little too late,” the younger man
mumbled.
The words shot through Roy’s breast like
an arrow. “Johnny, I’m sor—”
“Save it.”
Roy started to speak, but stopped, feeling
hopelessly inadequate. He’s right. I’m a poor excuse for a friend. I failed
him.
<<<<<>>>>>
He paced his apartment, too restless to
sit, too nauseous to eat. He had nearly literally pushed Roy out the door when
the latter tried to stay. He just wanted to be left alone.
The pain finally forced him to stop. The
disgusting, mortifying, unbelievable pain…
He needed to use the bathroom, but the
knowledge of the pain he would endure kept him from going for a long time. When
he couldn’t wait any longer, he nearly passed out on the toilet.
Breathing heavily, he raised himself and
took off his remaining clothes. He felt filthy, and decided to take a shower,
one of a series that he had taken since the attack. He was careful to avoid
looking in the mirror, not wanting to see the bruises and welts that marred his
body.
The water pelted his back with more force
than the hospital shower had, and he sucked in his breath. He squeezed into the
far end of the bathtub, but everywhere the water hit he felt as though he were
being stung…
Attacked…
Unbidden, unwanted, the memories returned,
as persistent and biting as the drops of water that struck him. The humiliation,
the fear, the sickening stench of sweaty bodies. The loss of control, all
autonomy completely taken from him. The taboo, the shame of being violated so
violently, so disgustingly. Pulled over a pool table, exposed for all to see,
open for all to take.
The question…the wondering…where were
they?
No…he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t.
Remembering hurt too much.
He carefully moved into the water,
cringing at the discomfort. The hot water burned his skin, and as he bent over
to adjust the temperature he felt the stitches pull. The painful tug pushed him
over the fragile limit he had set for himself, and he furiously flung the shower
curtain aside and stumbled from the tub.
“Damn them!” he shouted, hurling his
washcloth against the mirror. “I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all!” He grabbed
the bar of soap from the sink and threw it with all his strength into the wall,
but even that act of violence was not enough to satisfy his overwhelming anger.
He leaned over to pick up the soap, but the stitches once again pulled, this
time drawing tears that were not entirely due to pain, and he fell against the
wall, his face crumpled in sobs.
<<<<<>>>>>
Roy stood outside Johnny’s apartment door,
not at all sure that he wanted to knock. He had come over twice since taking his
partner home, and both times he had felt distinctly unwelcome.
But he had to keep trying. He had to do
the right thing. Especially after failing so miserably before.
He knocked on the door. “Johnny? It’s me.
Roy.” He had taken to identifying himself so that John would not have to go
through the formality of asking who it was.
“Just a minute!”
Roy waited, listening with curiosity to
the rapid footsteps inside the apartment. “Johnny? You okay?”
“Yeah…just gimme a minute.”
Roy shifted position. He was tired, and
wanted nothing more than to go home and relax, but he’d promised Johnny that he
would come over today. He couldn’t break his promise.
Finally the door opened, and Roy smiled at
his friend. “Hey…thought you weren’t gonna let me in!”
“Uh, yeah. Well, I was—busy, that’s all.”
Johnny backed away from the door, and as Roy stepped into the apartment he could
tell that John’s bustling about had been a quick attempt to clean up some of the
mess. A glance into the kitchen told the story—dishes piled in and around the
sink, take-out boxes sitting on the counter and table, empty cans everywhere.
And in the living room, clothes that had been hurriedly tossed onto one chair,
with several socks and pairs of underwear stuffed under the couch.
Johnny blushed as he watched Roy look
around. “I…need to clean up…been kinda lazy.”
“Hey, I’m not here to inspect your
apartment,” Roy assured him. “So how’s it going? Just about ready to get back to
work, aren’t you?”
Johnny nodded. “Yeah. Next Monday.”
Roy looked closely at his friend and
decided that the last place he needed to be was back at work.
“Do you think you’ll be up to it?” he
asked delicately.
Johnny gave him a quick glance that made
Roy realize that no matter what he said, John was going to take it the wrong
way. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Roy fiddled with his hands. “Well,
I just wanted to check—uh, what I mean is, I wanted to see—”
“Roy, you don’t have to bother. Really.
I’m fine. I know you’ve got to be tired.” The unspoken request hung in the air.
Go home.
Roy backed toward the door. “Okay,” he
repeated. “Well, I’ll see you later. I’ll call…”
“Sure. Later.” Johnny turned and walked
into the kitchen, and Roy saw himself out of the apartment.
<<<<<>>>>>
Johnny stood before his locker, his hands
poised over the buttons of his uniform. He had not had his uniform on since…
No. Don’t think about that. Don’t
remember—
“Hey, Gage! You’re back.” Chet’s cheery
voice broke into John’s thoughts. “Glad to see my favorite pigeon!” Johnny
turned to see Chet’s raised hand moving to pat his shoulder, and he violently
shied away.
“Don’t!” he cried involuntarily, drawing
back into his locker. He could see Chet’s shocked _expression, and the flush of
embarrassment covered his own face as he realized how he must look. With forced
nonchalance he finished buttoning his shirt without another word as Chet moved
to his own locker and began changing.
The uneasy silence finally broke with the
voices of Marco and Mike as they came into the locker room. Both averted their
eyes when they saw John, although both mumbled a greeting.
“Johnny! Good to have you back!” Roy’s
voice nearly squeaked as he joined his fellow workers in the locker room.
Johnny threw a quick smile of greeting
over his shoulder before closing his locker and leaving the room. The only word
he had spoken had been his panicked response to Chet’s gesture.
<<<<<>>>>>
Hank Stanley glanced at his team, studying
each member to see their reactions to John’s return to work. He could see
varying degrees of discomfort and uncertainty, and in Roy’s case guilt, but
Johnny’s face remained impassive. What’s going on in his head?
“John, it’s good to have you back,” he
said, nodding at the dark-haired paramedic.
Johnny smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Cap.”
Hank briskly assigned duties, then
dismissed the men. “Uh, John, see you in my office?”
“Sure, Cap.” Johnny followed the older man
into the office, where Hank leaned back against the desk.
“I meant what I said,” Hank began. “It is
good to have you back. But I want you to be sure that you’re ready, though.
We’ve got plenty of time. No rush.”
“I’m ready. I want to work.”
Hank studied him, sensing hesitancy in the
paramedic’s manner. “My door’s always open, you know.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Cap.”
“I…I know that you’ve been to see the
department counselor.”
Johnny’s face betrayed a flash of anger.
“I’ve seen him,” he replied crisply.
“Well…that’s good.” Hank wondered at the
anger. “Just wanted to make sure that everything’s okay.”
“It’s fine, Cap. Really.”
“Uh…” What do you say at a time like
this? “Well, let’s get to work.”
<<<<<>>>>>
Johnny slowly made his way through the
bay. He briefly wondered where everyone was, until the murmur of voices from the
kitchen caught his ear. He started to push open the door, but the words he heard
made him stop cold.
“Every time I look at him I see what they
did to him. I don’t even want to talk to him. I know that’s terrible, but…”
“I know what you mean. I feel the same
way. I mean, I keep wondering why he didn’t…fight back or something.”
“He must’ve fought back, but still…you
can’t help but wonder. Why did they do that to him? Why not just beat him up?”
“Yeah, I’ve wondered about that, too.”
And then Roy’s voice: “I don’t know why
they picked him to attack, but I don’t think we need to wonder about it. It
wasn’t his fault—”
He jumped through the door. “You’re damn
right it wasn’t my fault!” he exclaimed at the startled men. “I was abandoned in
there! No one came to help me until it was too late! If someone would’ve come
back in for me, I wouldn’t have gone through—” His voice choked, and he wheeled
and fled the kitchen, leaving his friends gape-mouthed.
<<<<<>>>>>
He lay on his bunk, figuring that Roy
would come to him within minutes.
Fine. Let him come. It didn’t change
anything. He’d been abandoned.
“Johnny?”
Right on cue. “Save it, Roy.”
“We were wrong. Back there. We shouldn’t
have been talking about you.”
Johnny sat up and faced Roy. “Y’know, that
doesn’t even matter. Nothing does. It happened and it’s over, and I know what
kind of guys I work with.”
“Johnny, they don’t know what to say.” Roy
gestured helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. We’re just so sorry.”
“Just remember this,” Johnny interjected.
“You were safe outside. Remember? I was the one caught up in that mob. I was the
one who was dragged over to that pool table…” His voice broke as he spoke the
nightmare, reliving the horror before his friend. “Just leave me alone,” he
demanded, turning his back on Roy. “I’ve got nothing more to say.” He sat
motionless until he heard Roy’s footsteps leaving the bay. It was only then that
he wiped away the moisture that had appeared on his cheeks.
<<<<<>>>>>
Roy wandered about the station for several
minutes before gathering up the courage to go to Hank. He found the captain in
his office.
“Cap? Can I talk to you?”
Hank looked up from the pile of papers he
had been rummaging through. “You bet. I’d love an excuse to get away from this
mess. What’s up?”
Roy tried to unobtrusively close the door.
“I was wanting to ask you about…well…” He stopped and sighed. “It’s Johnny,” he
continued. “I’m not sure how he really is.”
Hank leaned back in his chair. “I’m not
sure either,” he admitted. “But confidentially, I’ve got a report from the
department counselor that says he’s ready to return to work. Hopefully we’ll
have a quiet day—”
His words were cut off by the klaxons,
summoning the station to a structure fire. Roy met Johnny as his partner rushed
to the squad, welcoming the adrenaline that surged through his body, temporarily
removing the fear that had taken over.
<<<<<>>>>>
The fire whipped out of control, searing
its angry heat throughout the elderly building with orange fury. The firemen
donned protective gear, and the paramedics prepared to search for any people
caught in the three-story structure.
Roy gestured toward Johnny. “I’ve got this
floor,” he shouted through his mask. “You go upstairs.”
He left without waiting for a response,
pushing his way through the thickening smoke. Johnny watched his back, unable to
move, his feet melded to the floor. Fear coursed through his innards; raw,
primal terror the likes of which he had not felt since that attack. Abandoned
once again, left to fend for himself. As quickly as the thoughts moved into
consciousness he tried to dismiss them, but irrationality kept him rooted,
paralyzed by his doubts.
I can’t trust him. He’ll leave me up
there. They all will. No…they won’t. But can I be sure? Roy…don’t leave me here.
Come back.
A sudden wave of intense heat burst over him, literally pushing him backward. Muffled shouts reached him through the roar of the fire, and he knew that the building was being abandoned.
Abandoned…
He took a step, confused and disoriented.
Which way? He had last seen Roy heading down the hall, but flames now filled the
narrow passageway. Turning around, he spied the stairway that he and Roy had
come up. The urge to flee drew him to the top of the stairs, but uncertainty
about Roy stopped him. Horrible indecision seized him, and he stood unmoving.
“Johnny!”
He started and nearly cried out in
surprise as Roy grabbed his arm while calling his name. Even through the
swirling smoke and the masks that both wore, Johnny could see the anger in his
partner’s face. Neither said a word as they carefully made their way down the
steps, avoiding the fallen pieces of ceiling that littered the floor. A moment
later they emerged into the welcome sunshine of the afternoon, where they could
see the various firefighters working to contain the fire.
Roy ripped off his mask and turned to
Johnny. “What the hell were you doing in there?” he demanded. “You were supposed
to go upstairs. I looked all over for you, only to find you in the same place I
left you!”
Johnny also removed his mask, careful to
avoid Roy’s angry eyes.
Roy continued, his voice calmer but still
tinged with annoyance and concern. “Johnny, you know as well as I do that when
we’re in a burning building we’ve got to be able to know what the other is going
to do. Our lives depend on it. I’ve got to be able to trust you.”
Johnny flinched as if stung. He raised his
eyes to his partner’s and slowly shook his head.
“You’ve got to be able to trust me?” he
repeated. “Don’t talk to me about trust, Roy. You don’t have a leg to stand on
where trust is concerned. So just save your breath.”
Roy’s face reddened. “That’s not fair! I’m
talking about the fire, not the bar! Stop taking me back to that!”
“I don’t have any choice!” Johnny shot
back. “I can’t get away from it!”
“Gentlemen!”
Both paramedics jumped as Hank appeared
from behind the squad. The captain glared at his men, his hands poised on his
hips. “What’s the problem here?” he asked, looked from Johnny to Roy.
“There’s no problem,” Roy replied quietly.
“It was my fault.” He left Johnny alone with Hank.
The taller man looked down on Johnny.
“Well?”
Johnny shrugged. “What do you want me to
say? I don’t know.”
Hank sighed heavily. “I’m going to talk to
both of you back at the station, so I’d suggest that you come up with something
to say by the time we get back. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
<<<<<>>>>>
John and Roy arrived at Hank’s office at
the same time, and it was Johnny who pointedly stood back to allow Roy to go
inside first. They each took a seat and waited in silence for their captain to
join them. Neither looked at the other, but the tension that filled the room
bore an almost palpable air.
Hank strode in after a minute or two, and
after closing the door, took his seat behind the desk. With a hard look at both
men, he sat back in his chair and clapped his hands together.
“All right, men. Let’s get to it. What
happened back at the fire today?”
For the first time the paramedics glanced
at each other, then Roy spoke.
“It was a miscommunication. That’s all.”
Hank’s eyebrows raised. “I think it was
more than a miscommunication,” he said. “You were both pretty hot back there. I
want to know why.”
Roy shifted in his seat. “Well…I
overreacted, but…well, I need to know where he’s gonna be. I can’t be searching
a burning building for someone who isn’t there.”
Hank turned to Johnny. “What’s your take
on this, Gage?”
Johnny never looked up from his hands.
“Nothing,” he murmured.
“Nothing? John, I want an answer, and I
want it now.”
The younger man fiddled with his fingers.
“It’s just what he said. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. End of story.”
“I thought he was searching upstairs,” Roy
put in. “I went looking for him when we got the call to evacuate. He wasn’t
upstairs. He never went up. I found him where I had left him. I just got a
little hot…I shouldn’t have.”
Hank digested Roy’s words for a moment,
his fingertips pressed together as he thought. Johnny fidgeted even more,
shuffling his feet and clasping and unclasping his hands in his lap. Roy sat
still, watching his partner out of the corner of his eye.
“Okay,” Hank finally began. “Roy, unless
you have something to add, you can go. John, please stay.”
Roy nodded and, after pausing next to
Johnny, left, closing the door behind him.
Hank leaned forward. “This has to do with
the bar attack, doesn’t it?” he said bluntly.
Johnny shrugged.
“You froze. Why?”
“He left me,” Johnny said, his voice so
low Hank could hardly hear him. “If I had gone upstairs, you all would have left
me.”
Hank shook his head. “John, you know
that’s not true. None of us would leave you.”
Johnny met his eyes. “But you did,” he
said accusingly. “How do I know you won’t leave me again?”
“John…” Hank stopped, stumped. “I—don’t
know how to convince you, John. Trust is something that we have to earn, and I
suppose you feel betrayed. But we need to be able to trust you, too. Especially
in a situation like a fire. Can you understand that?”
“I know my job,” Johnny replied testily.
“I know you do. But I’m not sure you’re
ready to be back. You went through a very traumatic event, and I think that
you’ve got some issues that you still need to work through. I want you to go
back to the department counselor, spend some more time with him.” He got to his
feet and approached Johnny. “Don’t take this the wrong way, John. I sympathize
with you, but I’ve got to watch out for all my men. I can’t have you freezing in
a crisis situation. It’s not safe for anybody, including you.” He reached over
to pat Johnny on the shoulder, and was startled when the seated man shied away
from his touch. He pulled back, worried and confused. John was acting just like…
“Uh, I’ll call in a replacement,” he said
quickly, pushing the troubling thoughts back as he returned to his desk.
Johnny stood up and left without a word,
but he managed to close the door with just a touch more force than was
necessary.
<<<<<>>>>>
That night Johnny drove seemingly
aimlessly, but when he pulled into the convenience store he knew that he had
planned on coming here all along.
Inside the store he once again wandered as though not sure what he wanted, but he quickly found himself standing in front of the cold beer display.
He picked up a six-pack of Budweiser and
carried it to the checkout.
“Is that all?” the checkout girl asked
pleasantly.
“Yeah…no.” Johnny scanned the packs of
cigarettes. “A pack of Marlboros, too.” He picked up a book of matches.
I don’t smoke.
He paid for his purchases and carried them
to his Land Rover. He set the beer on the floor so that the seat wouldn’t get
wet, then he stared at the pack of cigarettes.
He peeled the wrapper off and pulled out a
cigarette. Years before he had experimented with smoking, but his interest in
rescue work had convinced him to put them away.
He placed the cigarette between his lips
and lit it, taking shallow puffs at first, then deeper ones. The tip glowed
brightly in the dark vehicle, and he rolled down the window to allow the smoke
to escape.
Dirty. Filthy. Bad.
He drove home, grabbed the six-pack, and
trotted up to his apartment.
The descent into drunkenness tortured him. Every beer that he drank triggered new waves of guilt and confusion. I don’t want to drink this. Why am I doing this? What is wrong with me?
And yet he continued to drink.
Dirty. Filthy. Ugly.
Bad.
Morning found him collapsed on his couch,
six empty beer bottles scattered on the coffee table and on the floor.
<<<<<>>>>>
He called the department headquarters late
in the day, waiting for his hangover to lessen enough for him to move from the
couch. The call did little to help his mood; he found that an appointment with a
new counselor had already been made for him.
Loss of control. He recognized his anger,
savored it, allowed it to grow. They had taken his power away, his autonomy. He
couldn’t even make his own damned appointment.
At least they hadn’t sent him back to the
first counselor. Actually, he had been amazed that he had been recommended to go
back to work, because he doubted he had said more than a dozen words per
session. The shrink just gabbed on and on, talking about previous patients he
had counseled and the various problems they had encountered. John had merely sat
in the deep chair, pretending to listen. Pretending to care.
The only thing the counselor had said that
had made any headway with him had been the mention of a nurse who had been
raped. Apparently she had fallen into a deep depression, started drinking
heavily, and had finally attempted suicide before facing her demons in the
psychologist’s office. Although Johnny couldn’t understand why the shrink had
mentioned a rape victim, he found himself strangely moved by her story.
He flopped down in his chair and pulled
out a cigarette. His rumbling stomach told him that he probably needed to eat,
but his lingering headache and nausea kept him seated. Inhaling deeply, he laid
his head back and closed his eyes.
The faces flashed into the darkness. He
jerked, dropping the cigarette in his lap, then yelping when he felt the heat
reach through his jeans. He staggered to his feet, clutching the cigarette in
one hand while trying to pinch the fabric away from his flesh.
The faces…
He shook his head as though he could
physically force the vision to disappear, but stubbornly it remained, taunting
him. He bent to the task at hand, unfastening his jeans and sliding them off. A
tiny hole marred the pant leg, and a faint red spot marked his thigh. With a
muffled curse he tossed the jeans onto the back of the couch and stood staring
at them, furious.
A knock at the door barely registered with
him, and he automatically went to the door and opened it.
Roy stood in the hall.
Johnny nearly dropped the cigarette once
again. “Uh—uh—Roy!” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”
His partner nearly hid his surprise at
John’s appearance. Nearly. “Uh, well, I was just coming over to see you.” He
tried to ignore Johnny’s lack of pants. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Johnny suddenly became very aware of how
he looked. “I—uh—burned my leg,” he explained, gesturing toward his thigh. “Had
to get my pants off to check it out.”
Roy stepped in and closed the door. “How
did you burn your leg?” he inquired, glancing at John’s thigh.
“Uh—well—y’see—” Johnny lamely held up the
cigarette. “I dropped it,” he admitted.
“You’re smoking,” Roy observed dryly. “I’m
surprised.”
“Oh, I don’t smoke. I just…this is just…”
Johnny stammered into silence. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “It doesn’t
make any sense. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
Roy went to the couch and sat down. “You
want to talk about it?” he offered.
Johnny stood motionless for a long moment.
“Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
Johnny finally sat across from Roy. “I mean, I went to the shrink, and I tried
to go back to work, but nothing is working.”
“Well, I think that it’s understandable
that you’d have some problems after what happened. It’s going to take time to
get over it.”
Johnny got back to his feet. “No…I want to
get over this. But I feel so…” He looked down at Roy, wondering if he should say
more.
“How do you feel?” Roy supplied.
“I feel…dirty.” Johnny held up the
cigarette. “I mean, this isn’t me. I’m disgusted with myself.”
“Maybe you need to go through this to feel
better.”
Johnny angrily stubbed the cigarette into
an ashtray. “Roy, how is this going to help me? Slowly killing myself…yeah,
that’s a great idea.”
“Well…” Roy struggled with his next words.
“I know that you’ve been suspended. And I know that you’re going to see a new
counselor. Maybe…once you talk to him, you’ll feel better.”
Johnny managed a smile. “Sure. That’ll
work.” He forced a yawn. “Roy, I’m beat. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
Roy’s _expression told John that he didn’t
buy a single word he had said, but his always agreeable partner played along.
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Uh, maybe you could put the cigarettes
away for the night.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” Johnny tossed the pack
onto the TV. “’Night.”
He watched his friend reluctantly leave, and the first thing he did after the door closed was light another cigarette on the way to get a beer.