//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: The Hospital // Story: Bailing Out // by PhillyCh3zSt3ak //------------------------------// Chapter 11: Road to Recovery Blackhawk in route to Desert Sands Memorial I held Spitfire’s hand, even though she was still unconscious. A medic set up a saline solution bag to start flowing into her veins. The ride lasted less than ten minutes as we settled down on the roof of the hospital on its helipad. Luckily the Flight for Life chopper was already gone elsewhere. I unclipped my P90 from its strap and handed it over to the medic. “Make sure that gets put away!” I yell over the roar of the engine rotors. Hospital staff came through the double doors leading to the elevator with a stretcher. I picked up Spitfire like I did before and met them halfway across the pad and placed her on the stretcher. They immediately asked me what happened. “She has two broken legs, one compound and the other a clean break, she has deep cuts on her arms that have been salted, and her lower torso has been burned,” I explain. They gave me a weird look before continuing to push the gurney into the elevator, me tailing them by a few feet. They don’t give me a second look at my Glock due to me wearing SWAT body armor. The elevator descends to the ER level and the nurses and orderlies around the cart were yelling, telling people to move out of the way. We finally reach the double doors leading to the ER, but a nurse holds me back from going inside. “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to wait here,” she said putting a hand to my body armored chest. “Hospital staff only. You can wait over there,” she said pointing to some seats. I stared at her for a few moments before turning away in a huff and sat down. A few other people in the room looked at me funny, mainly because of the blood on my arms and sleeves. Well and the body armor isn’t helping any either. Or the gun. While seated I lean forward and place my elbows on my thighs with my hands folded. With my thumbs extended I place each thumb between the area where my eye socket crease up and the bridge of my nose is and sigh. “Mr.?” a young voice came from next to me. I looked next to me and saw a young girl of maybe five or six with a splint on her arm. “Are you a policeman?” I paused for a moment. “Yeah I am, sort of.” “Sort of?” she asked. “How can you be ‘sort of’ a policeman?” “Ok, fine. You got me,” I say holding my hands up. “I’m not a policeman. BUT I was a guest of the police to help hunt down a very bad man.” “A bad man?” she asked with innocence in her eyes. “You know that bad man they’ve been talking about on the news for a while?” I asked and she thought for a moment before nodding. “With my help that bad man won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” “How did-?” she started to ask. I knew what she was going to ask next: ‘how will he not hurt anyone anymore?’ “Say how did you break your arm?” I ask redirecting the question. “Well I was riding my bicycle when-” *** Well that took a good half hour for that little girl to tell her tale of breaking her arm before one of the nurses came by and told her family it was her turn to get looked at. As I went back to my old position of sitting down I started thinking. Thinking of what I told that lab tech, that I never told my parents that I got married. I pull out my phone and unlock it. I stare at my wallpaper for a long time, though only a minute or two passes. Should I tell them? They do in a sense have a right to know. I hold down the “home” button until it prompts me for a voice command. “Call mom and dad,” I say to the microphone. It makes a little *beep* catching my command. The dialing tone started to sound. It went on for a few seconds before someone picked up. “Hello? Who is this?” a female voice said. “Mom,” I reply. “Andrew, what’s going on? Why are you calling so early?” “Mom. We need to talk.” “What is it, is it something serious?” I sigh, “In a sense, yes. Remember when I moved to Vegas two months ago?” “Yes, you said it was because the job you took was there.” “Well that’s part of it, but most I can’t tell you about.” “What do you mean you can’t tell me about it?” “Mom look up ‘nondisclosure agreement’ online when you get the chance, it’ll explain without explaining anything what I’m doing.” I took a deep breath, “Mom for the last two months I’ve…” I paused trying to muster up the strength to tell her. “You’ve been what, sweetie? What’s wrong? Is it something serious?” she asked with genuine concern in her voice. “Serious, yes. But nothing is wrong, well sort of. You see I’m… m-m-m-m-married,” I finished before cringing for what was about to come next. And 3…2…1… “WHAT!?!” Yep, there it is. “Why did you tell me you were getting married? Or dating?” Ok… I expected her to be a little more… angry. “Mom, you are taking this... well, rather well.” “Well of course! My baby boy finally got himself a woman. So who’s the lucky lady?” she asked excitedly. “Well I-” I trailed off. “Doctor Jackson to the OR. Doctor Jackson to the OR, thank you," the female voice said over the intercom. “Andrew, are you in the hospital? You’re all right, right?” she started panicking. “Yes mom, I’m fine,” I reply trying to reassure her. And to keep her from having a heart attack. I stand up and walk towards the entrance of the ER lobby and I stop right before exiting the ward. “The reason I’m calling is because my wife is in the ER right now, and to be honest, I’m worried.” “Honey, what happened?” she asked. I told her everything, well minus the parts I’m not allowed to say. Well and the part where I lit the killer bastard on fire before emptying an entire fifty round magazine of 5.7x28mm rounds into his body before double tapping his head with your standard nine mil round. Ok I left in the part where I killed him, just not the how. “Dear, that’s just… terrible. I don’t know what to say,” she said still in shock from what I told her. “I know,” I reply leaning against the frame of a door. “I just don’t know what to do.” I ran my hand through my hair as I sigh. “Well the thing to do right now is wait and see. The doctors will do their job right, you just need to be there for her. Just like your dad was for me when you and your sister were born.” “Ok that last part was a little too much in the information department mom, but I get what you’re saying.” “What’s her name, by the way?” “Samantha, but I either call her Sam or Spitfire.” “Why Spitfire?” “Well mom that’s a long story for another time, I’ll call or text you when she wakes up. Maybe you’ll be able to talk to her,” I say with a somewhat sunny disposition. “Ok sweetie, just be patient and keep your chin up. It’ll all work out. I love you.” “I love you too, mom,” I say before I hang up and stare at my phone’s home screen again. I open the photo viewing app and I look at an image of us in front of the replica of the Space Needle downtown from a few weeks ago that we got some passerby to take for us. We took two photos that day, one was a more serious image. You know the type, nice looking that you send to family. And then we took a funny image, the kind you send to friends. She was fake leaning against one side while I was doing the same to the other side. It brought a smile to my face as I looked at them. I locked my phone and put it back in my pocket. I walk over to the nurses station and get the attention of one of the younger female nurses, “Excuse me, is there a place where I can wash up? I sort have my wife’s blood on me,” I ask. “Umm sure?” she replied confused. “Hey did I hear you say you killed the Vegas Strip Slasher on the phone just now?” “Yeah?” I replied with a raised eyebrow. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Ow, tinnitus,” I said sarcastically clearing one of my ears. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Here I’ll take you to the locker rooms, you can use them,” she said taking my hand and pulling me towards one of the locker rooms. We went through several corridors and were at least on the other side of the hospital by now. We went down another flight of stairs before ending up at the locker rooms. “Alright so the left one is the men’s locker room. When you’re done just head down that hallway and take a left, it’ll take you straight to the main lobby.” “Thanks,” I said as she walked away, “I guess,” I finished as she quickly turned around the corner. I opened the door and walked inside. There was no one that I could hear as I walked inside, my steel-toed boots making light footfalls as I passed the lockers and went straight for the showers. What? I haven’t showered since I left for work yesterday. I undo the Velcro of the SWAT vest and set it aside. I finish undressing and leave my gun holster hanging over the shower stall wall. What? I don’t want some random stealing my gun now do I? I turn on the water and let it go scalding hot first before adding some cold water to the mix. I walk under it and just sit there just letting the water coat me from head to toe. The blood on my arms melt away as the water touches it and it runs right down the shower drain. I must have just stood there for an hour because the hot water started to run luke-warm. I turned it off and stepped out. I saw a dry towel sticking out of a locker and temporarily stole it to dry off. After I was confident that I was dry I put the towel back. The person who owns it probably won’t get off of their shift anyway for another few hours anyway, so it should be fine. I redress, except for putting on the body armor, but I did carry it on my person. I walk back out to the lobby and find the directory which pointed the way back to the ER. As I walked the dimmed hallway back to the waiting room my mind started flashing back to my conversation with mom. ‘Wait and see what happens.’ What does that even mean? I know that Spits will have a shit-ton of physical therapy in her future, mainly because of the broken legs. She’d have to get used to numerous scars on her arms from the knife used on her and then possibly have issues with phantom pains. Then there’s the burn, if the docs do their job right there shouldn’t be any notable marks signifying a skin graft, but she’ll know it’s there. Oh psychological trauma, you can go fuck yourself. Preferably with a sharp and rusty iron spit up your ass. What? Too personal? No matter. I’ll probably have to take her in to the base’s shrink to see what damage that fucker did. Hopefully he’s rotting in hell right now. I’ll probably have to be checked out for filling that guy full of lead, literally, after lighting him on fire. Oh joy, a psych evaluation. I walk back in to the waiting room only to have anyone who could stand look straight at me and started applauding me. “Umm, what’s this about?” I ask to no one in particular. “Well you took down a serial killer, silly,” the same nurse from before answered. “Umm ok?” I said strolling into the waiting room’s main area. “Everyone if I could have you attention!” I said loud enough to be heard over the clapping and slowly they stopped. “Listen I’m honored that you want to treat me as such,” the started cheering again. “BUT,” I said loud enough again to make them stop, “I am just a man doing his job and would it would be considerate of you guys to think it as such. Thank you,” I finished. I walk back over to the nurses’ station and get the attention of one of them, “Excuse me, what is the condition of Mrs. Samantha Briggs?” “I’m sorry, who?” the nurse asked. “The woman I came in with. You know: broken legs, burned stomach area, cut up arms. That ring a bell?” I say a little frustrated. “Oh yes, her. One moment,” she said looking down. “I’m sorry, we had her listed as a ‘Jane Doe.’ One second and I’ll make a change to her charts,” she said typing away at her keyboard. “Alright there we go, all fixed. Do you have insurance?” “Call this number,” I say handing her Hernandez’s office number. “He’ll give you the information you need.” She took the piece of paper, “Anyway back to the topic at hand, my wife?” “Oh yes. She should be out of surgery in the next quarter hour for her leg. The casts should be setting soon. We’re scheduling a skin graft later today for the burns. Her chart says that they’ve got a doctor being flown in to perform the procedure,” she pressed a few keys on the computer, “It’s being performed tomorrow morning.” “Thanks, just let me know when she has an assigned room,” I said before walking back to a seat. This is going to be a long fifteen minutes. *** Fifteen minutes later I saw Spitfire being carted from the ER and a nurse approached me. “Mr. Briggs?” he said to the room. And I stood up and approached him. “Your wife’s room has been arranged. This way please.” He led me to her room. Inside was Spitfire konked out on whatever cocktail of pain killers they’ve got her on. I look and see that her legs were in casts now and her arms had been stitched up. I look around the room and see a man asleep in a full body cast. “Damn man, it looks like you tried to play human Frogger and lost,” I muttered. I looked back at Spitfire and saw that there was still gauze around her torso with what looks like burn salve on them. I pull up a chair beside the bed and take her hand, like I did a few months ago back in Area 51. I grip it gently and she reacted by grabbing me back, however I dismissed it as a muscle reaction. I slouched back in the chair, which by the way was quite comfortable. I guess the hospital directors thought that it would be a good idea for the loved ones of the admitted to be comfortable while visiting. My eyes started to flutter shut as the lack of sleep from the last twenty-four hours started to catch up with me. Eventually I surrendered and fell asleep. *** I woke up when I ray of light hit me coming in through the window. As I looked around the room as my eyes came back into focus, I saw that Spitfire’s bed was gone. I walked back in the hall and saw a person in scrubs. An intern perhaps? “Hey buddy!” I shouted to him. “Come here for a second.” He came over, “Hey do you know what happened to my wife?” I pointed to the empty place that Spitfire’s bed was. The intern walked over and looked at the chart on the door, “Looks like she just went into surgery not too long ago for a…” he looked down at some of the fine print, “skin graft.” “How long will it take?” I ask. “It looks like it’ll take three hours until it’s done.” Great, another three hours of waiting. *** Three hours later I walked back inside the hospital after running over to the bar across the street, not to drink but to get a bite to eat, and who am I kidding I may have had a shot or two. Plus the game was on TV so why not? I need something to help keep my sanity right now. I mean the woman I love is in surgery right now and I needed to stop thinking about the bad things that could happen while on the table. For the record, I’m not drunk at all. As I enter her room there’s Spitfire on her bed again looking relaxed, and well, tranquil. Well she’s out like a light. I take my seat back at her side and turn on the TV. I started flipping through the channels until I found a college basketball game playing, I put it on mute and watched it silently. “Hey,” I looked over and saw Colonel Hernandez standing in the doorway. I stood up to salute him, but he was way ahead of me, “At ease.” I sat back down, “How’s she doing?” he asked. “Better,” I sigh. “I talked to one of the doctors earlier, he said that ‘Sam’ would make a full recovery. Though physical therapy is going to be a bitch once those casts come off. For the next month or so for the clean break she’s going to be confined to a wheelchair.” I sat there for a moment before a thought crossed my mind, “Shouldn’t you already know this? More importantly how are you keeping her ‘assets,’” I put in air quotes, “under wraps?” *** Meanwhile in another universe The spy took a sip of his margarita as he read the story in front of him, “Phrasing.” *** “I knew about it, I thought I should hear it from you. And as for you second question I made all persons involved sign a nondisclosure agreement,” he replied. He walked closer and took a look at the damage himself. “You know, we do have some experimental treatments back at base that we could do.” I thought for a good long while, “I’ll think about it. More importantly I think that she should make the final decision since it’s her body.” “Andrew, I think that’s a good idea.” That first part caught me by surprise, he never used my first name like this before. “Getting a little familiar now, are we?” “Well this isn’t a formal meeting.” “So just a checkup then,” I sigh. “So who’s winning?” he said dragging my attention elsewhere. I cross one of my legs, “I think ASU’s winning.” “Hey what’s wrong with your leg?” he said pointing at my crossed leg. I looked down and saw a small blood stain on the leg of my pants. I pulled my pant leg up and saw an inch long cut and only a hairsbreadth wide and maybe an eighth of an inch deep. There was a small scabbing of blood along the cut, but no blood was flowing, but when I looked at the pant leg there was quite a lot of blood on it, not enough to cause blood loss, but enough for someone to notice. I shrugged at it, “Huh, must’ve happened during the last breach we did. I bum-rushed the Slasher back at the factory. He must’ve knocked a scalpel loose when I tackled him and it fell down and cut me. What’s done is done. Plus the bastard got what was coming to him.” “Yeah I heard about that. Talk about overkill.” I gave him a ‘are you shitting me?’ look, “I’m not going to deny that the bastard was the scum of the earth, but there’s limits.” “He tried to run, and he had a gun,” I lied. “Right,” he deadpanned. “The so-called story that’s being passed around about how the Slasher tried to run and was shot with fifty rounds then caught fire.” “There was a natural gas pipe, it got clipped as a round exited his body. A second round caused a spark starting the fire,” I continued the lie. “I know the truth, just make sure to keep yourself in line lieutenant,” he said leaving the room. I must have sat there for a good two hours just looking at the TV, but not really paying any attention to it. I heard Spitfire’s breathing start to pick up and she made a groaning. *** Present time “And that’s when you woke up,” I finished. “Wait, so you set the guy on fire, THEN shot him?” Spitfire asked and I only nodded, “Damn, remind you to never piss you off like that,” she said with a chuckle. “Well I’m going to be honest, that guy has been the only one who’s ever got me that mad before,” I said scratching my whiskers. “Well thank you for getting that mad on my account,” she said giving me a quick peck on the lips. She pulled back and laid back down, “So when do I get out of here?” “Well that’s the bad news. You probably won’t get out of here for at least another week, and that’s just to go home. There’s going to be physical therapy after they get those casts off and checkups on those stitches on your arms to make sure there isn’t any infection.” “Hey why do I feel so funny by the way?” “Probably because they’re got you on some pretty strong pain killers going through your IV there.” “That would explain why my hands look all white and fuzzy,” she said looking at one hand, turning it and looking at it as if she were viewing it for the first time in her life. I give a little laugh at her curiosity, drugged up as it is. I take a look at the clock, “Well I have to head home and change for work.” “Aww, can’t you take the day off?” she asked with sad puppy dog eyes. “I already took one off to find you,” I reply with some sadness. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I lean over and give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Just don’t go anywhere,” I jest. “Oh ha ha, very funny,” Spitfire retorted throwing one of her pillows at me. *** Canterlot Castle Celestia was sitting on her throne, worrying about her marooned subject. She had watched her guardian murder the one that would have murdered her had he not shown up and had her taken to a hospital. ‘Should I let her parents know?’ she thought to herself as some aristocrat tried to propose a law to her. ‘I don’t want them to worry about their daughter. Perhaps I should wait until Twilight comes back with news on her condition.’ “-and that’s why, your majesty, we should increase the taxes for the people of Manehatten,” the middle aged mage finished. “Your highness, what Lord Penny Pincher has suggested will place tens of thousands in a bind,” replied the younger male mage. ‘I hate politics, why did I ever decide to become a part of it anyways?’ Celestia asked herself. ' I could have stayed in solace raising and lowering the sun while others took care of this hogwash.' She sighed, ‘Twilight if you’re going to choose a time to barge in, now would be the time…’ “Princess Celestia!” cried a female voice as she ran into the throne room, it was Twilight. ‘Oh thank the makers,’ she thought. “Gentlemen I believe we can take this up another time,” she said to the two. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will continue day court after an hour long recess, your cases will be handled in the order they were before, thank you,” she said in a louder tone to the rest of the hall. As the people attending court left and the doors closed, Twilight approached the throne. “Princess I’ve got good news, Spitfire’s awake and is going to make a full recovery,” Twilight said excitedly. “Well that is good news indeed. I will have to let her parents know that she will be alright.” “There was one other thing I needed to talk to you about,” Twilight said in a more serious tone. “Oh?” Celestia replied with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve noticed a weird mana level reading on Andrew over the last few hours.” “What do you mean?” Twilight opened her notebook, “Well starting soon after Andrew brought Spitfire to this hospital his mana level has been increasing from almost nothing to the amount you’d see in an infant mage. Not enough to do anything with, but enough to be noticed.” “This is something to be concerned about,” Celestia said scratching her chin in thought. “However for the last few hours it’s remained at that level,” Twilight finished then closed her notebook. “Do you know how this could have happened?” Celesita asked trying to wrap her mind around how a being in a society that only has enough mana to sustain life could now have enough energy as a newborn mage. “I’ve been looking over the recording of what we saw the other night; before you ask, yes I do have had a recording crystal recording everything we’ve seen since the second time we used the mirror spell. It looked like a scalpel covered in Spitfire’s blood fell while Andrew was charging the murderer and he got a small cut on his leg. And I’m guessing that-” “Spitfire’s blood mixed with Andrew’s causing a rise in the mana levels in his body,” Celestia finished for Twilight. “It makes sense. We should keep an eye on him.” “That’s what I planned on doing,” Twilight replied. *** Shadow of Vegas Bar and Grill I walked into work, I’m going to guess that the boss won’t be too happy about me skipping out last night. “Briggs! Get your ass into my office!” he yelled. Called it. I walked in and saw my boss waiting for me and a TV on with the news paused on it. “Care to explain this?” I looked closer at the screen and saw my face on it and the text below it saying, ‘Local man kills serial killer.’ “Oh that,” I say scratching my head. “I just shot and killed the serial killer that abducted my wife, that’s all,” I tried to pass off a sheepish smile. “That brings up another question, why were you there? I thought that SWAT was there. Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked with scrutiny. “Well…” I started. “Do you know what? I don’t care. Show up on time and do your job. Now get.” He said gesturing to the office door. I walked out and started prepping for the night, we’d be opening in less than a half hour. I started to clean out some glasses and reached for the rag, which was a good foot or so away, but instead of moving I reached anyway. I turned to put the glass down but when I did I felt the cloth of the rag in my hand, then I looked and there it was. “That was odd,” I said shrugging it off. *** Canterlot Castle, Mirror room Twilight’s jaw dropped at what she just saw. The rag moved from its resting spot to Andrew's hand. “Andrew just… he… how did he-?” she stammered. She felt for the mana levels from before and only felt a small residual level that remained in Andrew’s body. They were higher than before he got the cut, but lower than they were just before. “I’ll have to keep an eye on this,” Twilight muttered.