The gun nestles between us. “I just wanted to fix it. That’s all. She wouldn’t let me fix it,” he shrieks into my face.
“She was never yours to fix, motherfucker.”
Our fingers overlap on the trigger. It’s either him or me and in this situation, I pick me and pull the trigger. His eyes widen in shock and his mouth drops open in a silent cry before he collapses. I’ve seen men die on the battlefield, and this man is dying. His rapidly blinking eyes focus on one spot and he takes one more gasping breath before his gelatinous mass sags heavy onto my chest, lifeless.
Eyes still open. I push him off, trying to pull myself up, and brace my weight on one of the chairs but my left leg collapses under me. Nauseating pain shoots through my body. It’s only then that I look down and see my femur cracked and protruding through muscle and bone.
“Shit!” I say aloud to myself. My vision starts to go dark around the corners. Must be losing a lot of blood. Fear, real fear, starts to beat a very real rhythm in my chest. I’m bleeding out, and if no one gets to me soon it’s over.
“Seth, come in . . . status check.” I hear the worry in Aiden’s voice, but I can’t locate the button to respond. “Cody, come in . . . this is Frost . . . confirm status.” The urgent tone in Aiden’s voice breaks through the ringing in my ears and the murkiness in my brain.
“Confirming code four at this time,” I say on a harsh breath. “The perp is K.I.A. and I’ve been injured. Pretty bad.”
“Oh, thank fuck! We’re on our way, buddy. Just hang in there.” I nod even though I know he can’t see me on the other side of the radio and grit my teeth when I accidently move my leg.
Screams still echo around the perfect acoustics in the room. Although Ian Foster is dead, he has irrevocably altered hundreds of lives tonight. Many of the fans attending the concert were trampled in the stampede exiting the venue. I know Sin was hit. He might have even gotten one of the other guys from the band..
“Seth?” I hear Aiden’s voice, but I’m not sure if it’s coming from the piece in my ear or if he’s next me. Aggressive tapping on my face forces me to open my eyes. I hadn’t realized they were closed.
“What?” I jerk my head away from the hand.
“There he is,” Aiden says, relief making his body visibly slump forward.
He stares down at me. “You’re one crazy motherfucker, you know that? I can’t believe you jumped twenty feet down.”
I can’t either. But without the adrenaline rush I would have felt every bump and bruise going down. Not to mention the broken bone in my leg.
Everything on me hurts. Blinking fucking hurts. My eyelashes goddamn hurt.
“Seth, keep your eyes open . . . I NEED SOMEONE OVER HERE ASAP. WE’RE LOSING HIM . . . Seth, look at me.” Aiden’s voice is insistent.
I try to comply, but my eyelids refuse to obey my orders. I just need to rest for a minute. Once I get just a little, I’ll be good.
The darkness is soothing.
“Seth, buddy, you gotta open your eyes.” Seth shakes me and takes a tight hold of my chin. He shakes my head, rattling the brain in my skull, and I force my lids to open. “Seth, don’t you think of dying, Marine. You stay in the fucking fight. You hear me? You better nod, motherfucker, because I refuse to make a call to your mother and tell her you went down on my watch.”
“She’ll be pissed you let me get hurt either way,” I say. We both chuckle because I’m right.
“Everybody else okay?”
He holds my gaze. The muscle in his jaw tightening as he shakes his head.
The paramedics arrive and it takes two tries before they’re able to heft my weight onto the gurney. It might just be the most horrendous, excruciating pain ever. I’m dizzy. Bright lights flicker in front of my eyes, and they’re not stage lights. My stomach tightens, forcing me to roll to the side and empty the contents of my stomach on the ground. The pain starts at my leg but overtakes every system in my body. Systematically shutting shit down. My eyes protectively close, like if I can’t see the damage, I won’t feel it either.
I feel the bumps and turns as they wheel me out of the concert arena. Later I hear the wail of sirens as they rush me to the hospital. Eventually I feel the hands on my body as they try to resuscitate me.
Adam
Jake settles on the seat next to me, his gaze meeting mine. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t have to. We both love Sin and there’s a very real possibility she might not survive this. It makes no sense we’re here. Someone perpetrating this degree of violence on innocent people is . . . I’m at a loss. There’re simply no fucking words to explainable this. . .it’s terrible, horrible in a way that just altered the course of our lives for the rest of our lives.
I don’t know how long I’ve been in the hospital. The night has merged into this never-ending sequence of events. No one will give us any updates, and I don’t understand how there’re people in this room filling out crossword puzzles and playing games on their phones like my world didn’t just implode into a million pieces. Where Sin, my best friend, my sister, is in emergency surgery, and my . . . And Seth is . . . I know even less about what’s going on with him than Sin. The last time I saw him he was jumping off the stage toward the shooter and all anyone can tell me is he’s in surgery.
The massive AC kicks on, freezing my already chilled bones. An elderly woman on the other side of the room is hacking uncontrollably. I fight the urge to go over there and demand she stop. Instead I look down at my hands. They’re covered in dried blood.
“I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I tried,” I say in a hoarse voice. Opening my fingers wide in a helpless motion, my eyes never leaving my bloodstained hands.
“She’ll be okay. You know Sin,” Jake says, but he sounds uncertain, his voice strained and tight.
“I’ve always protected her. Always. The one time she really needed me, I let her down.” Tears leak from the corner of my eyes, leaving trails in the mixture of blood and dirt on my face. I don’t wipe my eyes because my hands are bloody, and what kind of sense does that even make? I ball my hands into fists and rotate them. Maybe if I turn them to just the right angle, I’ll find a clean spot. A place that isn’t coated in the memory of my best friend lying lifeless on a stage.
“Adam.” Jake covers my hand to stop the incessant movement. His very presence, solemn voice, sad eyes, all seem to point to Sin not making it and she has to.
“This isn’t on you. You did everything you could. No one plans for . . . this. How could you?” He looks around at the sterile white walls of the county hospital, the only trauma center in the state, eyes landing on the broken, worn chairs while he formulates his next sentence. He clears his throat before turning his gaze back to me.
His eyes sweep my body and I can tell each time they cross blood splatters because he blinks, startled. Almost like his brain refuses to comprehend what it’s seeing.
He digs the tips of his fingers into his eyes, so hard it looks painful. He takes in a shaky breath, trying to rein in his emotion and maintain a thread of control.
“She’s going to be okay. She can get through this,” he tells me, but I already know those words are way more for his benefit than mine.
Before I can answer him, the doors open and a doctor in blue scrubs with a kente cloth cap over her hair approaches our group.
“Are you all here for Sinclair James?”
We all stand and crowd around the doctor, vying for position to make sure we get the information she has. In my case, I want to be close enough to ask questions.
“Yes,” Connor says when everyone else in the group remains silent. The doctor addresses Connor directly since he’s the one who answered her question.
“She’s out of surgery and has been moved into a recovery room. Once she wakes from the anesthesia, we’ll get her into the private room.”
Nothing but adrenalin is keeping me on my feet. Now that I know Sin is going to pull through, I need to find Seth. One can’t be fine and
then I lose the other. That would be a cruel twist of fate. The worry that had abated at the doctor’s words returns tenfold.
The doctor clarifies further, “I don’t want to set the wrong expectation. The recovery will be difficult, but I don’t see any reason why Ms. James shouldn’t come back stronger than ever.” Pulling the surgical hat from her head.
“Are you all”—she peers around at our group, Dan and Miles flank me,—“Ms. James’s family?”
I step forward without hesitation. “Yes.”
When a frown creases the center of her brows. I look to my side to see Jake next to me. “And you’re her . . . ?” She turns her curious eyes to me.
“I’m her brother,” I say.
The doctor gives me a skeptical look. I know what she sees. A lanky white guy with blond hair and blue eyes claiming to be the brother of a woman his exact opposite. We don’t have the same genetics, but we became our own little makeshift family the minute she walked into that group home. I dare this doctor or anyone else to challenge it.
“And that would make you?” She appraises Jake.
“I’m her . . .” He clears his throat and starts again. “I’m her boyfriend?” His voice raises at the end, frustration making the words hard and angry. He knows the hospital isn’t going to tell him anything; they don’t give a damn about boyfriends.
She turns her attention back to me, dismissing Jake altogether.
“I’m Doctor Pippen, chief of surgery.” She holds out a hand.
“Adam Beckham.”
“Okay, Adam,” she says in a quiet voice. “Let me give you the basic rundown of what we repaired, and where I think we’ll go from here.” She lightly tugs me toward the doors she just exited.
“Your sister had a significant injury to her right lung. We were able to repair all the damage and remove the bullets and debris from the chest cavity. We still have to run a couple more tests when she’s awake, but while we wait for that, I can take you in to see her. As her family, you can authorize other visitors to see her, although we like to keep the number around two at a time.”
The doctor swipes a card to unlock the door, and she guides me to the hallway behind the steel gray doors. In comparison to the anxious feeling of the waiting room, on the other side of the door it’s still, everyone focused and moving with purpose.
“Are you Ms. James’s only family?” the doctor asks.
“Yeah. Her mom . . .” I clear my throat multiple times. “Her mom, she’s, um, dead. Died a long time ago. Sin and I were in the same group, and we . . . ah . . . we became really close. I have paperwork; it’s not on me,” I say, patting the front pockets of my blood-soaked jeans. “But I can have it sent, to show I’m her emergency contact if you need . . .”
She lets out a long sigh. “That would make this a lot easier. Thank you. For right now, we’re going to go with your word, so you can authorize visitors. Keep it to a minimum,” she says immediately. “No more than two people at a time. We don’t want to overwhelm her.”
“Right. Totally get that. We’re just all worried, you know?”
“I can imagine, but my job is to take care of the patient.” She folds arms across her chest; her tone is no-nonsense.
“She’s still sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia. Which is a good thing. She’ll need to take it easy. Rest and sleep will be a huge part of the process to get her back on her feet. It will help her recuperate.”
I nod like I understand. But I don’t. Nothing about Sin being shot and in the hospital makes any sense. Not the white walls or the stale medicinal air. Not the fact I’m covered in blood that hours ago was pumping through her veins.
“Mr. Beckham?” Dr. Pippen says in a crisp, direct voice, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Yes, sorry. I think I might have zoned out for a minute there.”
“You did. But that’s normal. You just had a major trauma. It’s not my area of expertise, but you and your entire band will need professional help and counseling to come back from this.”
I know there’s truth to her words but can’t worry about that right now. Right now, I need to lay eyes on Sin. I need to see her chest moving and her eyes open.
“Before you go see her, can I offer you a shower? A change of clothes? We have stuff in the lost and found or I can get you a set of scrubs.”
My eyes involuntarily drop down to the blood that has crusted on my hands and the big splotches on my jeans. “I’d . . . ah . . . I’d really appreciate that.”
“Follow me. The locker room is this way.” She walks away but I stand there in the middle of the hallway. She stops about three feet ahead of me when she realizes I’m not following.
“Can I see her first?” I ask in a minute voice.
“Of course. This way.”
She leads me down a couple of hallways to the room. “I’ll let the charge nurse know you need a shower and scrubs. When you’re ready just head to the nurse’s station.” She doesn’t wait for any acknowledge on my part before she walks out the door.
I just stand there looking at Sin. She’s so still. Even when she’s quiet she’s always so full of life, so vibrant. Right now, I have to watch her breathe just to make sure she’s still here.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but it’s long enough for a male nurse, wearing brightly patterned scrubs with unicorns and rainbows, to enter.
“It’s okay to touch her. Studies actually show patients do better with human touch,” he says.
“I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to make sure that she’s okay,” I state.
“I understand that. What’s your name?”
“Adam.”
“Okay, Adam, my name is Sebastian, but I go by Baz for short. Why don’t you come here, and I’ll show you how we do this.”
With a kind hand on my arm he guides me over to the bed. “Hey there, Ms. James. My name is Baz and I’m going to be on duty taking care of you for the next twelve hours. I’m just going to look at your monitors. Make sure everything is okay,” he says, clasping her hand.
Baz goes through the motions, checking machines and vitals. Holding a one-sided conversation with Sin. Every so often touching her hand or arm and showing me Sin is still here, hurt and in the hospital, but still here.
All of a sudden, the fog lifts from my brain and the sterile area doesn’t seem so reverent. Sin is my best friend, my sister; we have talked about everything and nothing. We have slept on the same floor and eaten from the same plate.
I can do what this nurse just did. Of course I can.
“The . . . ah, doctor . . . Dr. Pippen said I could get a shower and maybe some clothes.”
“Dr. P mentioned that. You’ll have to go to the lounge because there aren’t showers in recovery. Once we get her up to a room it’ll be a little more convenient. I’ll give you two a minute. When you’re ready just pop by the station, and I’ll show you where you need to go.”
Without the nurse to run interference the room once again falls onto silence. Gingerly I approach the bed and lay a hand over the top of Sin’s.
“Hey, Sin . . .” I’m unsure if she can hear me. Feeling like a fool for needing to talk when I know she won’t answer back, I sputter, “I . . . uh . . . I’m so sorry.” My voice catches on a sob. “I tried . . . I really tried . . . but I didn’t get there fast enough. Now you’re . . .” Tears flood my eyes, blurring her face to the point I almost miss her eyes opening.
“Sin?” I wipe a hasty hand over my eyes to make sure it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. And it wasn’t. Her eyes are open, unfocused and glassy but wide open. I’m not religious at all but if I was, now would be the time to drop to my knees and say thank you. “Hey. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see your eyes right now.” I pick up her hand, lacing our fingers.
She doesn’t try to answer. Her eyes drop in a heavy blink and stay closed longer than normal. “I’m gonna go take a show and get . . . Jake . . . but I’ll be back, k?”
She
nods and after a couple of minutes her eyes drift shut as she falls back to sleep.
Once I’m sure she’s fully asleep I go find the nurses’ station, collect a pair of blue scrubs, and follow Baz to the lounge. I try to quickly shower but, unlike the movies, the blood doesn’t just run off. I have to scrub and scratch and pick to get it off my skin, from under my nails, from pieces of my hair. My skin feels raw by the time I step out.
But I’m clean.
No physical traces of the atrocities that happened tonight are left.
I stuff my blood-stained clothes into a plastic hospital bag and chuck the whole thing in the trash can. I never want to see those clothes again, let alone wear them.
I make my way back to the metal doors. I have to wait for the nurse to open them, and I can’t really step out because I don’t know how I’ll get back. As soon as the door cracks open, I see Jake sitting ramrod straight in a chair facing the door. I motion him forward and he hastily moves toward me.
His tortured eyes search mine.
“She woke up a couple of minutes ago. Just long enough for the nurse to check her vitals.”
“That’s huge,” he says. I nod and turn in the direction of her room.
“It is, man. It really is. I thought . . .” I don’t finish the sentence, but he already knows. I think all of us in one way or the other were thinking the same thing.
“I have to go let the boys know what’s going on, but I wanted to let you know first. Seeing her like that was the worst fucking moment of my life, but I’d rather be by her side than on the other side of the door. So, I know you gotta be tripping right about now.”
“I was . . .” he says but corrects himself. “I am. I just need to see her with my own eyes.”
Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale Page 18
