Private Property

by La Jill Hunt

  Walter turned and nodded at Frank. “Yeah, Frank and his quick thinking got us through.”

  “Walter, look. Can you believe this?” Olivia pointed to the nearby house that was surrounded by fire trucks and ambulances.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Walter asked.

  “We don’t know yet,” said a pretty, Hispanic girl standing nearby. There was something very familiar about her, but Walter couldn’t remember where he knew her from.

  “They won’t let any of us near the area to find out anything,” a tall black guy added.

  “I believe there were two people inside,” a rugged-looking white guy told him. “That’s all I know.”

  “I believe that’s King’s house!” announced another guy, who was fashionably dressed in blue and white silk polka-dot pajamas and blue slippers.

  “Who is King?” Micah asked.

  “Do you mean King Douglas, the singer from the Hot Boyz?” asked an attractive, full-figured woman standing with her arm around the tall black guy. Seeing the rings on both of their fingers let Walter know they were married.

  “The one and only.” The pajama-clad man nodded.

  Walter looked at the small group gathered in his front yard. “I’m going over to make sure no one is injured.”

  “Walter, no! Stay right here. What is going over there gonna do? And if someone is hurt, what can you do to help?” Olivia said, grabbing his hand.

  He looked down into his wife’s eyes and told her, “Pray for them.”

  “I’ll go with you, Dad,” Micah said.

  “No, you stay here with your mother.” Walter gave his son a knowing look.

  Walking over to the house with Frank by his side, Walter prayed that no one was injured or, even worse, dead. He saw a stretcher being brought around the side of the house with someone on it. The rescue workers barked orders as the doors of a waiting ambulance were opened and they placed it inside. Walter walked faster as the sirens wailed and the vehicle drove past them. He made his way over to another waiting ambulance where the doors were open, and he peeped in.

  “Can I help you?” one of the attendants asked.

  “I’m here to see if everything . . . I’m just . . . I . . .” Walter stared at all the chaos around him and tried not to become overwhelmed. Firefighters were running, hoses in hand, and police officers were roping off the area and calling out instructions.

  “Sir, we’re gonna need for you to move back out of this area,” the EMT told him as he brushed past him and climbed into the ambulance. “Is he breathing better? What are his stats?”

  Walter did what he was asked and back up some, but he angled himself so that he could get a better glimpse inside the emergency vehicle. He saw a young man sitting up on a stretcher, his face covered with an oxygen mask.

  Another EMT, who was bandaging the man’s arm, said, “Pressure is still elevated, but his pulse ox is good. His arm is pretty bad, though. We need to transport him.”

  The man on the stretcher shook his head.

  “You need to go to the hospital,” the EMT told him. “You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke, and your arm is severely burned.”

  The man shook his head harder, using his free hand to remove the oxygen mask from his face. “No . . . hospital. I’m . . . fine,” he managed to get out before he started wheezing and coughing.

  “We have to take you. You don’t have a choice,” the EMT told him, attempting to put the mask back over the man’s face.

  The man moved his head back and forth. He tried to take the blood pressure cuff off his arm and get up. “Said . . . I’m . . . good.”

  Walter took a step forward, thinking that maybe he had inhaled some smoke and that was causing him to hallucinate. He felt Frank moving right behind him as he moved closer to the ambulance.

  The two EMTs struggled with the man in an effort to get him to calm down and lie back on the stretcher. Walter continued walking toward the vehicle until he was right in full view.

  “Sir, please move back.” The EMT who had spoken to Walter before looked up and yelled, “Move away, now!”

  Walter and the young man locked eyes. Walter saw the look of recognition across his face, letting him know that he wasn’t seeing things.

  “Officers, please come and get this man out of the way!”

  A nearby police officer ran over. “We need you to move out of the way,” he said to Walter. “This area is off-limits.”

  Walter ignored the officer and continued staring at the man on the stretcher, who was now sitting down and staring back at him. “How? When? What?”

  Frank walked closer and was now staring as well. “Bishop, is that . . .”

  The officer asked both men, “Do you know this man?”

  Walter nodded. “Yes, this is my son!”

  “Fine, they are taking him to the hospital. Are you riding with him?” the officer asked.

  “No! No!” Malachi tried to yell, but he began coughing so bad that he started gagging.

  Walter just nodded and climbed into the back of the ambulance, still confused by what was happening.

  “I need to accompany the bishop,” Frank told them.

  “Only one person can ride,” the EMT said.

  “Go get Olivia and Micah. Tell them what’s going on and bring them to the hospital!” Walter yelled just as they closed the doors.

  The EMT signaled to the driver that they were ready to go. The van jerked and the sirens wailed as they pulled off. Walter was still confused, but now he was more concerned as he watched the technicians put the mask back over his son’s face, grab bags of fluids, and put an IV in his arm. Malachi coughed and gasped as he struggled to breathe. His eyes met Walter’s once again before fluttering closed.

  “Malachi! Malachi!” Walter called out.

  Malachi didn’t respond. Tears formed as Walter stared at his son’s unmoving body. He began praying like never before.

  God, please don’t take my son away from me. I know that I haven’t been the best father, and I know that I dropped the ball when it came to a lot of things, especially when it comes to him, but you know that I love Malachi with all of my heart. I am pleading with you right now. Cover him, protect him, heal him. Save him. His mother needs him, his brother needs him, I need him. Forgive me for not being there when he has needed me. Forgive me for failing him and for failing you. Don’t take him from me, God. He has too much more of your work to do. He has a purpose to fulfill. Spare his life and heal his body. In Jesus’ name, and by His stripes, I declare and decree right now. Amen.

  For the first time since he could remember, Walter then did something that surprised even him. He leaned over, touched his son’s forehead, and whispered, “I love you, son.”

  When they arrived at the hospital, Malachi was whisked away. Walter was told to have a seat in the waiting area and he would be updated on his son’s condition. As he took a seat, he realized that he didn’t even have his cell phone to reach anyone. He told Frank to bring them to the hospital, but he didn’t even know if they knew which hospital. He could only imagine how his wife was feeling right about now. Malachi was his mother’s heart, and she was probably just as confused as he was.

  When did Malachi get out? How did he get out? Is he even supposed to be out? Did he escape? And why was he in that house?

  Walter’s thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like a wave of people yelling. He looked up to see hospital security, along with a few police officers, holding back a small crowd starting to gather near the reception area of the emergency room. He began to panic and wondered how people even knew he was there with his son. He hadn’t given anyone Malachi’s name yet. He quickly turned away, hoping no one would spot him.

  “You all need to get back right now! You need to be at least five hundred feet from any hospital entrance or you will be arrested for trespassing,” the hospital security guard’s voice boomed over the crowd. He was a huge guy who looked more like a linebacker for an NFL team.

  “Can you jus
t confirm if the woman brought here from the fire is Scorpio?” a man yelled.

  “I can’t confirm anything,” the guard said. “What I can confirm is that you need to get out or you will be escorted out in handcuffs.”

  “Was Malachi Burke brought here too?” someone else yelled out. “We were told that he was brought in as well.”

  “People, please. This is a private matter, and I’m sure the families and the hospital will release a statement,” a small, slender police officer standing beside the security guard spoke loudly. He took a step toward the crowd with his hands placed on his hips as if he were Superman.

  “A statement? Are they dead?”

  “So they are here!”

  “Families only make statements when people die!”

  The officer turned beet red and started shrinking backward.

  “Get back now!” The guard easily moved the police officer aside and stepped forward.

  The crowd eased back and slowly dispersed. Walter was relieved that he wasn’t recognized and that they didn’t mention his son at all, but the suggestion that someone had died caused him to worry even more.

  “Excuse me. They say you are the father of the man they brought in from the fire.”

  Walter glanced up to see a woman dressed in blue scrubs. His heart pounded. “Yes.” He nodded. “That’s my son.”

  “I’m Dr. Madison.” She stared at him for a moment and then blinked before she continued, “He’s stable, and we are still working on him right now. He did inhale a lot of smoke, and he has severe burns on his arm, shoulder, and chest.”

  “Is he going to be all right?” Walter asked, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall.

  “He seems to be a fighter.” Dr. Madison nodded and smiled. “That’s for sure.”

  Walter managed a slight grin. “He is definitely that. Can I see him?”

  “It’ll be a little while longer. In the meantime, someone from the administration staff will bring some paperwork that needs to be handled. Um, I’m sorry, and I may be out of line for asking, but . . . are you Bishop Walter Burke?”

  “Yes.” Walter nodded.

  “I thought you were. Considering the sensitivity of the situation and the fact that the press is already looming, I think we should have you wait in another area where you’ll have some privacy. Is that okay?” she suggested.

  “That’s fine. But my wife, I’m waiting for her and my . . . my other son.” Walter sighed. He was even more discombobulated than he was earlier. This entire situation had rattled him, and he was not a man who was easily shaken.

  “We can let them know where you are when they get here. Do you know if anyone else is here from the family of the young woman who was brought in right before your son?” the doctor asked, looking past him into the waiting area.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone else other than you. How is she?”

  “I really can’t say. But I would just suggest that you pray for her. You can follow me, and I’ll take you where you can have some privacy along with your family when they get here,” she told him.

  Just as they were about to head down the hallway, Walter heard his wife’s voice. “Walter! Walter!”

  He turned around and saw Olivia running toward him. Malachi and Frank were right behind her. She fell into her husband’s arms, tears streaming down her face. Walter rubbed her back and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay, O’la. It’s okay.”

  “What happened? I don’t understand. How did he even—”

  “Is it really Chi, Dad? Are you sure it’s him?” Micah asked, interrupting his mother’s question with his own.

  “Yes, it’s him.”

  “Where is he? I want to see him.” Olivia removed herself from his arms and turned to the doctor. “Take me to my son!”

  “Olivia, you can’t see him just yet. They’re still checking him out. Calm down,” Walter said.

  “Mrs. Burke, your son is stable, and the doctors are still with him. As soon as you’re able to see him, I promise I will let you know,” Dr. Madison said.

  “If he’s still back there, then where are you going, Walter? We need to stay here and wait!” Olivia snapped.

  “The doctor is moving us to an area where we can have some privacy, that’s all.” Walter put his arm around her.

  “That’s good. The press is all over this place. Frank had to figure out how to get us in here. Malachi’s latest adventure lands the family on the front page once again.” Micah shook his head.

  “No one even knows that he’s here. The press is here because they think someone named Scorpio was brought here from the fire too,” Walter said as they followed Dr. Madison down the hall.

  “The supermodel?” Micah asked.

  “I don’t know who she is,” Walter replied.

  “Doctor, is he talking about Scorpio, the model? Was she hurt in the fire too?” Micah’s voice was an octave higher than normal.

  Walter slowed down and turned slightly. “Do you know her?”

  “No.” Micah shook his head. “I know of her. I mean, who doesn’t? She’s one of the biggest supermodels in the world. She used to be married to King Douglas. He owns the house that was on fire.”

  “How does Malachi know them?” Walter asked, still trying to piece together how or why his son was even in that house.

  “C’mon, Dad, you know I don’t know anything about who he knows or why anything, for that matter. Your guess is as good as mine.” Micah shrugged.

  “None of that matters right now. I don’t care who, why, or how come! All I care about is making sure my son is taken care of and alive!” Olivia snapped at both of them.

  No one said anything else as they were led into a small private room that held a sofa and matching chair along with a meeting table and a telephone. The doctor promised she would be back to update them shortly, and then she left them to be alone. Immediately after the door closed, the small four-person group grabbed hands and began to pray, not only for Malachi, but also for the young woman who they assumed was Scorpio.

  * * *

  A knock on his office door caused Walter to realize he had fallen asleep.

  Brigette, his personal assistant, opened the door and stuck her head in. “Bishop, Mr. Maxwell is here to see you.”

  “Thanks, Brigette, you can send him in. Tell Frank he doesn’t need to come in while we’re talking.” Walter sat back up and exhaled loudly.

  “Do you need anything? Water, coffee, juice?” Brigette asked. She had been his assistant for nearly eleven years and had mastered the job and everything that came along with it, which wasn’t easy. With his travel schedule, preaching engagements, personal appearances, business meetings, in addition to the occasional counseling sessions when needed, Brigette made sure he maintained a balanced life and had no problem saying no to anyone, even when he didn’t want to. Walter was never overworked, even when he was stretched thin, because she had a way of making sure his schedule had perfect symmetry and was prioritized accordingly.

  “No, I’m good for now. I’m heading back over to the hospital once this meeting is over.”

  “Yes, sir. Let me know if I need to handle anything else while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks again.”

  A few moments later, Jerry Maxwell, Walter’s best friend, walked in and sat down in front of him. Dressed in a red polo shirt, matching baseball cap, and a pair of khaki pants, he looked like he had just finished a round on the green with Tiger Woods and popped by to share the story.

  Jerry and Walter had been friends since grade school. They grew up in the mean streets of Detroit and fought hard to survive. On more than one occasion, they had saved one another’s lives. Their over-forty-year friendship had been built on survival, brotherhood, and most of all, truth. They had shared so much over the years, and next to his wife, Jerry was the only person Walter knew he could count on for anything, anytime, anyplace.

  “How is he?” Jerry asked.

  “He
’s stable. They still have him sedated.”

  “I saw the fire on the news. He’s lucky to be alive.”

  “He is blessed. That’s for sure.”

  “How’s Olivia? I’m sure she was about to lose her mind.” Jerry shook his head. “You know how she is when it comes to Malachi.”

  “She’s still at the hospital and hasn’t left his side. I’m headed over there in a few.” Walter stared at him.

  Jerry leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. Walter could tell his best friend knew something was up. Normally Jerry was relaxed and laid-back. Walter watched as he looked around his massive office at the pictures on the wall, specifically one of Micah and Malachi as young boys, about 5 years old, taken one Easter Sunday. His sons were identically dressed in blue shorts, white shirts, and red bow ties. They wore long white socks and white Stride Rite dress shoes. On each of their faces was the same dimpled smile. It was his favorite picture of the twins.

  “I can’t believe this happened, Walt. But Malachi is like you. He’s strong and he’s a fighter and he’s gonna pull through this. You know that, right?” Jerry asked as his attention turned back to Walter.

  “Yeah, I know,” Walter told him. “But what I don’t know is, why the hell was my son released from prison into your custody three days ago, and you didn’t tell me?”

  Chapter 10

  Marcus Wells, 6524 Harrington Crest

  “Man, are y’all a’ight?” Sam asked.

  After the excitement of the night before, his brother was the first person he called the next morning to fill him in on what happened. Marcus sat in one of the lawn chairs overlooking the infinity pool as he talked on the phone in their backyard.

  Even with their sunroom, gazebo, pool, and custom-built barbecue pit, he believed they still had enough room for a half basketball court. He had been trying to convince Lisa that he and the boys needed one, but she insisted that they wait a little while longer.

  “Yeah, we’re good. It was crazy, though. All the neighbors came out, and cameras were everywhere. They even had helicopters flying out here,” Marcus said.