Come home (plus rewrite)

by a touch of sparkles

The rewrite

Nine o’clock, my shift has started as always, every day but the weekends. It was nice that the boss was willing to shorten my hours to get the kids to school, except that was about seventeen years ago. I look in the mirror one last time, magenta skin, a little rosiness that had survived, light blue hair in a bun and the front hairs gripped down. It will all be ruined by the end of the day but I needed to look presentable. No one wants a riffy person with their life in their hands. I leave and check my phone one last time. No calls, thank god. One text though, just off Mags saying her and her sister are at school. I don’t like leaving my phone here as of late, for all I know it could ring or vibrate over and over. Then again they most likely have other, more important phone calls to make. I head out to the van, with the new guy who I can’t remember the name of, it’s a B or something. We check over all the supplies in cabinets, check the beds stuck in place, then make sure the vans topped up, all that jazz.

The first case comes in pretty quickly, a typical early shift. An elderly man’s fell down the stairs. Most likely late at night and has been lying on the floor waiting for his carer to find him in the morning. Based on the description it doesn’t appear too major, so the lights and siren weren’t put on. We arrive and we find the carer has managed to get him onto his chair, which meant he wasn’t to broken up. We check anyway, we ask if anything hurts. He has a little joke, I’m old, everything hurts. He’s definitely old, even his eyebrows were going grey. These are the best cases for the start of the day. These old people just want someone to talk to, so we sit with him and his carer, a cup of tea. He still pulls out dad jokes even when his kids have left. I would love to sit with him all day, but we had to go, at least he was smiling. The sky not so much, it was going quite the ugly shade of grey.

We sit in the van for maybe a minute before we get another call in, we get a dose of whiplash. Higher up the country the rain has hit, a car crash, driver through the window and straight into the tree. The sirens and lights are now one and we charge through the cars and trucks as the roads get slicker. We arrive and we see the car, completely totalled and the tree remained untouched. From what was left of the car I can see the back wing things, so its most likely a boy racer hedging their bets on a wet road. To the side we see a distressed man pacing, his non destroyed car pulled up. B says he’ll deal with him, apparently he’s good with people who are in that state. I examine what’s happened. What I can confirm is that drivers definitely dead. The bones of his neck are sticking out, he hit the tree head on at god knows what miles per hour. His mate was at least smart enough to where a seat belt, I peer in through the window to see his legs are most likely crushed, if I was to guess what was happening beneath the air bag. I know from experience the door isn’t going to open, but I try any way. Of course it doesn’t. B has calmed the man down, who’s know sitting in his car. He didn’t see it happen, but he heard the crash. I tell him we have to wait for the police who haven’t got here yet to get the door opened. B asks if we can just smash the window to get to them, but that would risk us slicing our arms and hands open, we need those. What we do is we shift the body of the bonnet and despite the fact he was an utter idiot we place him down respectably on the grass.

The police arrive, yank the door open then sort out the roadblock. We get to work with the passenger who is knocked out. The guys legs are a lost cause, after we manage to pull them out from the engine. We get him on the bed, then the oxygen. We do our best at cleaning the wounds of potential infections and strap him in. The police deal with his mates body, and were heading back to the hospital we started with. The same process that happened every day, back and forth, here and there, wherevers closest. We drop him of with the doctors and I assume he’s taken to surgery for those legs. He’ll be a few pounds lighter when he wakes up.

Rounds of bullets pound a wall that once made a building. They knew he was here, he was an easy target nearing eight foot. Black war braids were shaved off by a high bullet. A quick reload and a dash to the rest of the building that was still holding up. A bang and the world went whiter then the snow. Followed by black and dust and a tonne of bricks, wood and concrete. Air knocked out the lungs in a restricted ribcage. One dark, scratched hand sticks out, feeling for something liftable.

We grab a quick lunch at a nearby café, then were back in the van where we wait a little while before we get a call. Apparently a woman’s fainted and hit her head on the way down while home alone. She can’t be too bad if she’s managed to call the hospital. We head our way over. When we arrive she’s crawling around and slurring her words. She’s confused, although we manage to get the idea it was caused by a migraine and she fell in the kitchen which has a stone floor. I check her over for any blood in which she stumbles over her words, saying she can’t tell how long she was out for. Like those naps that just happen. I was going to take her in anyway, since the brain has a tendency to bash around even when its suspended. The nearest hospital is about half an hour away even at speed, so at least it wasn’t too bad of an emergency. We drop her off then we get another call.

Another stupid kid off course, you can never run out of them. I say that like I wasn’t one at one point. For whatever reason, a lads decided to jump down the centre of a school staircase and has busted his legs up, I guess todays a leg day. We set off again and when we arrive, we learn it’s not just any school, but a five story school. So this kids legs are ever fractured or sticking out of him, were told he’s not unconscious though, so it couldn’t have been from the top floor.

Were led through the corridors by a receptionist and we arrive at the staircase. The kids legs are not the worst case scenario, but they have started to bruise. Oddly enough he doesn’t look like a cool kid, something tells me it was peer pressure. I normally don’t like when teachers send away a patients friends, but maybe this case was for the better. We pull him onto a stretcher and strap his legs still, we can’t really tell what type of break were dealing with, if I was to guess it would be transverse on the leg and potentially an injury to the hip or knee. We’ve asked the kid some questions but he seems a bit stunned to answer.

Any attempts to shift the heavy rubble were proving futile. The movements seemed to only shift the rubble closer and tighter. The free hand had found nothing useful, not like it could do anything, the arm was trapped. The dust was filling his lungs and choking him of the already limited supply of oxygen. Almost everywhere hurt as numerous bones were crushed and split, his chest screaming out in the agony of broken ribs. One will puncture soon enough and then it will be over. There were certainly more comforting places to die, but at least the battlefield is honourable. Then something wet touch his hand and a gruff bark quickly followed. It could go two ways now, he was helped, or he was shot on site. He felt the rubble lift, and through dusty eyes he could make out blue hair, what was probably once white skin if it wasn’t for grime, and a uniform that told him he was not dead.

We get a few more not so major calls before the end of the day miraculously makes its way around. Except the heavens have opened and its chucking it down. We head back to the docking station and I grab my things. No calls, just another text off Mags saying that they are now with grandma. Reminding myself of the rules of driving when you’re not priority on the road for a second, I then head off to the little bungalow where they were.

I often try to ignore the fact the kids only have three grandparents, of which only one is biological. Something about it is sad, but I wouldn’t be sure how to describe it. I have the key to the bungalow yet I still knock, and as always Rabia opens. She looked so much like him, dark skin, darker hair, red eyes and a giant. Except one eye was torn away from the exact same war happening now. The stories of how they got out sticks with me and I wasn’t even there. A father dying on top of them, using his body as a shield from the exploding shrapnel of the family inn. They saved his body and got him a proper funeral when they escaped. That was thirty years ago now.

The kids are in the living room, although one is more an adult now. Mags is about to do her A levels, she’s doing well as far as I’m concerned, unless she’s hiding the not so good tests like we all do. But the December mocks went well enough. There was quite an age gap between her and Etéra, nine years, but very close to ten. The exact same war, departures left and right. Mags hasn’t seemed to have taken on her father’s hight, and we were yet to know what colour Etéra’s eyes were, still being baby green. Those eyes were not tainted by the understanding of her father’s absence, like everyone else’s. Including Opal, a literal bird. The white peacock was well over thirty years old yet he still appeared young. He was far to intelligent for what he was, he was staring out the window, looking up in the sky. Sometimes I wish I could talk to him and know what he’s thinking, they were very close to each other. Perhaps like other pets Opal can tell when his friend is near.

I went off and got showered and changed. I had long since given up the crystal republic cloths. Mom jeans and woolly jumpers were far better, and less insulting. Rabia has made tea and bought some biscuits, Etéra has huddled into me, and Opal has come over for the crumbs. I sit and wonder who would end up worse. Rabia’s already lost everyone, we are all she has left. I would lose my childhood friend turned husband. Two children would lose their dad. It pains me to imagine that one of Mags first memories is seeing her dad in a hospital bed, his abdomen freshly sewn up.

“In about three weeks his bones should be in a good enough state that he could sit on a plane, albeit uncomfortably. Although he’d probably rather be home and endure the plane, it’ll be a surprise, our phone lines are cut down.”

We sit for a bit before we head out to the car, Opal really wanted to come with us for odd reason. It was still lobing it down, if I wasn’t driving I would zone out and listen to the rain on the roof of the car. It was that relaxing noise that made us tired, except Etéra. Her permanent childhood sugar rush hadn’t come to a jarring halt yet, and she chattered away about school and the silly games shed play with her friends. I should really listen more to what she says, I know I got annoyed when my mom never listened. I might get a chance to with all of these road works.

I had to blink twice when I pulled up into the drive to see the lights on. I’m pretty sure I turned them off. One of the spots on our drive is taken, a car I haven’t seen before. Odd. We dart for the door to avoid the still heavy rain, the warmth of the house is all too welcoming. I drop my bags down by the radiator, but the thought of drying of is halted by Etéra, very happily, shouting dad.

I may have well of fell into the living room, and I see him for the first time in six months. Mags was helping him up of the armchair, he was covered in bandages from head to toe and he was on crutches. A small chunk of hair is missing. And yet he is here, alive and…maybe just breathing. On the sofa I see my dad, so he must have picked him up and bought him home, in what must be a new car.

Etéra has glued herself onto his non broken leg, although Mags is trying to pry her off. I restrain from running over to him, and I gently wrap my arms around him. Normally he would pick me up to be eye level, but in his state, he leaned over. Even now we keep anything more romantic then a cuddle away from the family, it’s always been a bit awkward. We stay in embrace for a while before he wobbles and I help him sit down again. I tell my dad to go and get Rabia and my mom, we’re having family take out for tea tonight.

This has happened so many times, the overwhelming joy has since been replaced with simple relief. How war can last for so long and reach no stalemate amazes me, but one day it will end.

Hopefully.