Forever

by Jeff Holmes

  “Hey partner, there’s cops and MPs everywhere, the Courtesy Patrol is out and we’ll be there by 10:00. They’ll be OK. I’m guessing they can take care of themselves.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Scott said. “I just have a really hot fiancé who I don’t want every grunt from the Fort pawing.”

  Todd leaned back and laughed. “You are a love-struck puppy, Mitchell.”

  The Manhattan Indians dominated Topeka West, 35-13, and for Scott and Todd, it was a quiet night. One pretty bad ankle sprain, a couple of bells rung, and Scott had to close up one small cut. “See-Spot-run medicine,” Todd said.

  As they packed up their aid bags on the sidelines, an MPD officer came over. “Hey guys, I just got a call that they need some help down in Aggieville.”

  “What kind of help?” Scott asked, his mind racing.

  “They’ve had a bunch of fights break out on the 1100 block of Moro. We have units on scene and the MPs are there, but they asked for any available medical personnel.”

  “The 1100 block as in The Poison Apple?”

  “Out front.”

  “Fuck,” said Todd, shooting Scott a quick look. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “Can you get us down there? My fiancé and her friend are both working in there.”

  “Let’s go!”

  It took just five minutes to arrive at the corner of 11th and Moro in Aggieville. Scott and Todd jumped out of the back of Doug Morrison’s squad car.

  They were both wearing their green-blue medical flight suits with eight different zippered pockets on them, with the cloth copies of the EMT badges and their name and rank sewn on. On EMT duty they didn’t have to wear caps, thank God.

  The Apple was behind them with a lot of hooting and hollering and shouts of “Where are the fucking dancers?” Apparently, the DJ said he was bringing dancers with him; not nude, but pushing the limits of the Riley County ordinance. The sign over the front door read:

  “COME BLOW YOUR PAYDAY LOAD AT THE APPLE TONITE! $2.00 COVER”

  “What’s going on in there?” Scott asked Doug.

  “They’ve hauled a few people out, but they’re still serving drinks and the DJ is still spinning,” said Doug. “The grunts are just pissed because the dancers aren’t there. And the girl-guy ratio isn’t great tonight. End-of-month payday usually keeps the coeds on campus.”

  “So, they’re after any female they can find,” Todd said.

  “I think they need a couple of EMTs in there,” Scott said, grabbing his bag.

  “You’re not going in there alone,” Doug said. He grabbed has walkie-talkie, barked orders into it, then followed Scott and Todd to the front door.

  A huge bouncer met them at the door. “Boss don’t want no cops or shit in there unless he calls them.”

  “Boss don’t have a choice, Slick,” Doug said. “This is a security check and these guys are EMTs. You can let us in or have the eight cops and MPs who’ll be here in a minute let themselves in. And your fat ass will be in cuffs. Take your pick.”

  Scott plowed through the door first. The place was packed and it had a Custer Hill look to it; lots of tacky-looking and very drunken troops trying desperately to make time with anything female. With his fiancé and her new friend both fitting that description, he was worried.

  “You see ’em?” Todd shouted. The Poison Apple had a low-beamed ceiling from which posters and bar lights dangled. In one area were high-hat tables with stools around them, while raised seating areas broke up the room. On the far left wall were the DJ stand and a small dance floor. A bar was tucked in the back.

  “Roni’s back there behind the bar,” Scott shouted. “I don’t see Amanda.”

  Roni and two other girls were trying to keep up pouring pitchers, while the servers and a crowd of GIs were four-deep around them. Scott pushed his way through the crowd toward the bar while Todd peeled off to look for Amanda. Doug found the owner and explained if he didn’t control this crowd, he’d call in the fire marshal.

  Scott reached the bar on one end. Roni, looking absolutely frazzled, looked up for an instant at him, then went back to filling the pitcher. When it was full and in the hands of a server, she ran over and kissed him. “Where in the hell have you been?”

  “We were delayed,” he said, trying to sound professional. “Been busy?”

  “I have been groped, propositioned and even offered money to go in the bathroom with a guy. Amanda has been pantomime-humped so many times she might be mime-pregnant. So yeah, we’ve been busy, Footer.”

  “How much money?” Scott asked.

  She flipped him off. “I have pitchers to fill.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  For about a half-hour, the situation started to stabilize. The bouncers thinned out the crowd at the bar, and weren’t letting anyone else in unless people went out.

  Todd found Amanda. She looked exhausted as they walked to where Scott was perched at the end of the bar.

  “I don’t think I have ever needed a fucking shower more in my life,” she said. “Your cop friend could probably lift fingerprints off my ass.”

  “Do you guys really have to close?” Scott said. “Can’t we just sneak out the back?”

  “Well, we’re not just going to walk out, Footer,” Roni said. “It’s only 11:00.”

  “I need two more pitchers, Ron-O,” said Amanda.

  Roni walked back to the taps and poured two more pitchers of Coors. Amanda balanced them on her tray and started back toward a big table of hooting GIs. Roni started toward the other end of the bar to take an order from another drunken soldier.

  “We could almost get away with going back to the house and changing clothes,” Todd said. “With the cops outside and the crowd thinning out, we could at least come back and drink and then get them out of here.”

  Scott was just about to respond when the uneasy peace was broken. A voice with a distinct New York accent snapped his view to the far end of the bar.

  “Hey baby, how about a little wet t-shirt action?”

  A short grunt with a Tyrone Power mustache reached over the bar and grabbed the soda hose. He pointed it at Roni and sprayed her in the face and across the chest. While Doug had warned Scott and Todd not to get into the middle of anything, enough was enough.

  In one step, Scott climbed over the bar and ran to Roni. He jerked her out of the way and in the same motion reached out and grabbed the guy’s wrist, jerking the hose out of his hand.

  “What in the fuck are you doing, idiot?” Scott screamed at him.

  “Yo, man, it’s cool, just wanted to see some nip. Looks nice.”

  “That’s my fiancé, asshole. Get the fuck away.”

  While Scott turned to check on Roni, he felt something whiz past his right ear, followed by the mirror behind them shattering and showering both of them – mostly Roni – with shards of glass.

  Scott backed her away from the damage then pushed her back to take a look. Little cuts covered her face and arms. “It’s in my eyes, Footer! It’s in my eyes,” she screamed hysterically

  “Fuck!” Scott snapped. “Marquis, I need you here.”

  Scott looked up. Doug and two MPs had the guy who threw the pitcher. He didn’t see Todd. “MARQUIS!!! Goddammit, I need you over here.”

  Then he spotted Todd. Some huge, fat Mississippi cracker had grabbed Amanda from behind. He had his ham-like hands clamped on to her tits and was dry humping her ass. Todd was running at her from one side, while the big bouncer from the front door was sprinting in from the right. He swung his mammoth fist and connected with Cracker’s jaw.

  He released his grip on Amanda and she whirled around to face him. As she did, Cracker blindly swung a fist and connected hard to the left side of her face. After an audible crack, blood started pouring out from under her eye.

  “Jesus,” Scott exclaimed. He put Roni down on the floor on her side, reached into his aid bag and pulled out an IV of sterile water. “Baby, keep your eyes open and don’t
move. I’m going to rinse your eyes.”

  Another bartenders came over and held her as Scott pulled the end off the bag and let the water stream down over her right eye. Little pieces of glass were coming out. He even rolled up her eyelid and rinsed that area as well. Then, he rolled her over and did the same thing to her left eye.

  “Roni, lay on your back. Someone get me a dry, clean towel.”

  One of the waitressed handed him one. He soaked it with the sterile water, folded it and rested it across her eyes. “Baby, do not move, OK? I’m going to check on Amanda.”

  He jumped over the bar and ran to where Todd was working on Amanda. She was a mess. A huge gash gushed blood under her left eye and even with the swelling, it looked like her orbit bone was broken.

  “Doug! We’re gonna need a bus.”

  “It’s on the way, Doc! Two of them!”

  Todd was shaking. “I got this, Mitch!”

  “Go check on Roni, Marquis. I’ll take her.”

  “No, I’ll…”

  “That’s an order!” Scott didn’t really outrank him but it worked. Todd squeezed Amanda’s hand and then headed toward the bar.

  “Footer? It really hurts, man.”

  “I know, Mandy, I’m going to give you something.”

  Scott opened the bag and grabbed a pre-loaded syringe with a quarter-grain of morphine. He rolled her part way toward him, pulled her shorts down slightly and jammed the needle into her butt. “This should help.”

  He packed the gash under her eye, but had to be careful because of the fracture. Just then, two Riley County EMS crews charged through the doors. Doug pointed one toward Scott and directed the other behind the bar.

  “Gimme the bullet, Doc,” said a female EMT who knelt next to Amanda.

  “20-year old, white female, punched with a fist. Has a four-inch cut below left eye, possible orbital fracture. BP is 88/52, pulse 140, respirations 22. She just had a quarter-grain of morphine. Slightly shocky. Her name is Amanda.”

  The Riley County crew took over and Scott returned to Roni. “Probable corneal abrasions, minor cuts to the face and arms. BP 112/72, pulse 68, respirations 16. I gave her a quarter-grain,” Todd told his crew.

  They brought in two gurneys and loaded up the girls. Todd and Scott followed them out the door. As Scott started to climb in with them, one of the other EMTs tried to stop him.

  “Sorry, Doc,” he said. “You can’t ride with us.”

  “Sorry, Doc, but that’s my fiancé and the other girl is my partner’s girlfriend.”

  The other EMT waved Scott in with Roni while Todd jumped in with Amanda.

  “ Mercy ER,” shouted the driver.

  Scott grabbed Roni’s hand. Both of her eyes were bandaged. “I’m here baby,” he said tenderly.

  “Hey, Footer?”

  “If I promise to quit at the Apple, can I still work at Kite’s?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  It was just after 0200. Scott and Todd sat in the waiting room of the surgical ward. Roni was going to OK; they were keeping her overnight for observation and she was sound asleep. Amanda was in surgery. They were trying to stabilize the break under her eye.

  “Well, we sure know how to show the girls a good time, don’t we?” Todd said warily.

  “Yeah. We’re just fucking awesome, aren’t we?” Scott answered.

  “Guess you were right about tonight.”

  “You know, I love being an EMT. Between Fort Sam and here, it’s been a rush. But God, tonight I felt like a fucking amateur. I panicked. I saw Roni bleeding and I panicked.”

  “Are you kidding? You were Hawkeye motherfucking Pierce out there, Mitch. You cleaned Roni’s eyes out and stabilized Amanda. I’ve been at this six months longer than you, dude. You were a fucking machine out there.”

  Across the waiting area a set of elevator doors opened and four figures stepped out – an MP captain, along with three people in street clothes. A large man with red hair stepped out first. Scott immediately recognized him as Col. Thomas Ledford, the Irwin Army Hospital commander. Spending as much time around the hospital as they did, Scott and Todd knew him well. He even came in and helped out in the ER sometimes.

  Scott kicked Todd’s foot. “Attention.” They both came to their feet.

  “Here are the men, sir,” the MP captain said.

  “Thank you captain. That will be all,” said Col. Ledford. “Specialist Mitchell, Specialist Marquis, at ease. These are Amanda’s parents, Col. and Mrs. Griffith. They just came in from Wichita.”

  Scott and Todd saluted. “Pleased to meet you both, sir,” Todd said.

  “I understand you two took care of our daughter tonight,” Col. Griffith said. “I just wanted to thank you.”

  “Just doing our jobs, sir,” Scott said. “It’s why they pay us.”

  “You’re her neighbor, aren’t you, Scott?” asked Mrs. Griffith.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “And it’s your fiancé who was also hurt?”

  “Yes ma’am, but she’s OK. She’ll go home in the morning.”

  “And, Todd, I understand you’ve become friends with our daughter, too?” asked the colonel.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, she doesn’t always make the best friends, but it looks like she chose well this time,” he said. “We are in your debt, both of you.”

  “We take care of each other, sir,” Scott said.

  The colonel shook both of their hands and Mrs. Griffith hugged them both.

  “Gentlemen,” Col. Ledford said. “Why don’t you get out of here? You’ve had a long day. And by the way, you both also have three additional days off.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Todd said, “but we’d at least like to stay until Amanda gets out of surgery. Besides, we don’t have a ride. My car is back at Manhattan High School.”

  “Tell you what, Mitchell,” the Colonel said. “I’ll run you over to get Marquis’ car. He can stay here with the Griffiths. When Amanda’s out of surgery, you guys can go get some sleep. And that’s an order.”

  “Yes sir,” Scott said.

  ****

  CHAPTER 23

  “OK Footer, we’re here. What was the big fucking hurry?”

  Roni and Amanda stood in the middle of the living room, dressed in jeans and sweaters, looking ready for a casual night out. Scott wore his favorite jeans and a burgundy and gold rugby shirt; and Todd jeans and a long-sleeved K-State sweatshirt.

  They were all ready for a night out. But it was only 3:00 PM, on the afternoon of Nov. 9.

  “Ladies, out to the Sky Bird,” Scott said, as he fished the car keys out of Roni’s big purse. “We have plans for the evening.”

  “Evening? It’s 3:00, Scott,” Amanda said. “Define evening.”

  “Load it up babe,” Todd said. “We have things to do, places to go, people to see.”

  Out in the carport, they loaded their coats into the trunk and piled into the car. Scott actually had it washed and detailed. In the back seat with Todd and Amanda was a cooler of Coors, and six neatly rolled joints of some sweet Hawaiian that Todd scored sat in Scott’s silver cigarette case.

  “OK, so where are we going, Footer?” Roni asked, looking somewhat skeptically at him as they pulled off of K-177 toward I-70. “It’s a Wednesday night, I have work, Amanda has school; what’s the fucking deal?”

  “You ask too many questions, baby,” he answered with a wry smile, lighting one of the joints. “Can’t two guys take their best girls out for an evening?”

  “OK,” Amanda said. “But what’s the occasion?”

  “Oh,” Todd said, “we just thought you deserved it.”

  They did.

  The weeks since that night at the Poison Apple had been rough on all of them. Amanda spent four days in Mercy in Manhattan, then as soon as she was released, her parents took her back to Wichita so she could see a plastic surgeon. She didn’t come back for nearly three weeks. They visited a couple of times, but she was glad to get
back to Manhattan. And Todd.

  Roni’s cuts weren’t too bad and after six weeks, the scars barely showed. But she also still couldn’t tolerate her contacts, so she was wearing her glasses, which she didn’t like a bit.

  “I look like a dork in these,” she told Scott more than once.

  “I think you look beautiful anyway,” he told her. But she’d get pissed. It wasn’t the glasses, really.

  Like the lingering scar on Amanda’s face, the glasses were a reminder of that night.

  Neither of the girls had slept well since then and they both were having nightmares. A lot of mornings when Scott worked an overnight, he’d come home and the girls would be asleep upstairs in Scott and Roni’s big bed. And judging by the Kleenexes, cigarette butts in the ashtray, sweet smell of pot smoke and TV still on, they had probably talked more than slept.

  They both quit at the Poison Apple, but still worked a couple of nights a week and home football Saturdays at Kite’s, which was much more tame. They went out as either couples or as a group quite a bit, but they hadn’t really ventured very far out of Manhattan.

  “OK, we’re going to Topeka?” Amanda was asking Todd as they made their way toward the downtown area of the state capital.

  “Going through Topeka,” Todd said, popping open a beer. “We still have a ways to go.”

  Roni smiled and lit a cigarette. “OK Footer, what are you up to? Are we going to KC?”

  “Well, we could be going to KC.”

  Todd and Amanda were pretty much a couple. On his and Scott’s days off, he usually stayed with her. There was sex and all the fun stuff, but emotionally, Amanda kept him at arm’s length. Roni told Scott that Amanda was still having flashbacks to that night and – at times – Todd was too much of a reminder of it.

  Roni had been busy since that night working on wedding plans. It was going to be very formal; the girls all in elegant black evening dresses with long white evening gloves. The guys were all wearing black tuxes with red ties. Scott would be in tails with a white bow tie.

  They had almost quit cigarettes before that night, but that went by the wayside. Roni was back up to almost a pack a day. Scott tried to say something, but it didn’t go well.