LifeGames Corporatoin

by Michael Smorenburg

  Should she move Catherine or leave her? Cover her or not? Try to resuscitate? Move to a safer place…? But what of spinal injuries?

  “Please… Oh God please…” She’d begged, aloud, “Please let those producers have done their homework. Please sweet Jesus, let what they’ve shown to us be right and proper procedure…”

  Her mind had been crammed solid with thoughts, but, somehow, the most mundane had been the most vivid as she’d wondered whether those Directors of actors realized what a burden of responsibility the product of their labors carried at a time of crisis.

  She’d repeatedly checked Catherine’s pulse at several locations, just like in the movies, mentally running through her scant knowledge of CPR in case the need arose; the entire time thanking fate that the under-floor heating was activated.

  Her ten-minute guard duty over Catherine’s unmoving body had been a proverbial eternity. Every moment had inched by, an excruciating cacophony of time and terror.

  Nancy hadn’t prayed for years, but in those long moments she’d continued to pray like nobody had ever prayed before;

  She’d prayed for Catherine’s survival, and she’d prayed for her recovery. She’d prayed that Ken wouldn’t attack again, and then she’d prayed that the police would arrive to apprehend him if he did. She’d prayed that the paramedics would arrive soon, and then she prayed the prayer that she’d almost forgotten. Through her trembling lips came the words, “Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

  “Were my directions to Catherine’s house correct?”

  The new thought galvanized her mind, severing the prayer as it began to leave her mouth. Nancy knew perfectly well how to navigate to and from the property, but she had no clue what the actual street address was.

  Then, like an answer from on-high, had come the beautiful tune through the haunting dark woods that surrounded the estate; Angels of mercy swooping down on her and Catherine at breakneck speeds.

  At those first strains of the sirens Nancy had backed to the door with the gun covering her retreat. She’d used the wide treading stance featured heavily in every cop film ever made, guessing that there must be some merit in that method. After unlatching the door and kicking it open, she’d run back to Catherine.

  During the brief moments of Nancy’s absence away from Catherine, the body had become a corpse. With no audience to beg its encore, Catherine’s life-song had drifted out of its shell and slipped away into the ether.

  Nancy had heard that positive encouragement in such dire moments was invaluable for keeping the victim’s body and soul together, so she had actively included Catherine into her every prayer, a vigil of interaction that had kept Catherine rallying during the wait.

  Now, Catherine’s death while Nancy had tended the door appeared to have proven the theory dreadfully true.

  “IN HERE!” Nancy yelled, frantically groping for Catherine’s pulse, “IN HERE AND HURRY…. PLEASE PLEASE HURRY!”

  Uniformed personnel came swarming through the door, lugging the tools of their respective trades—police with their instruments of death drawn, paramedics ready to repair tattered life.

  Nancy pulled herself together long enough to explain what had occurred.

  To the paramedics she included a brief history of Catherine’s recent concussion, then, turning to the police, she briefed them of Ken’s presence and escape into the dark reaches.

  Each group fell upon their tasks, the medics a frantic bustle of activity, as the police fanned out to trap their assailant in a pincer of training.

  With strangers to share the burden, the stresses came crashing like a wave over Nancy, and her voice trailed off into pathetic heaving sobs of despair as she buckled under their weight.

  With her face streaked by tears and her knuckles gnawed to broken skin, she steeled herself to watch the paramedics as they descended frantically on the corpse of her naked friend, laid out on its marble slab.

  Already there was a spider’s web of tubes rigged to an array of drips, and the sound of the heart monitor was a solid lament that pervaded every corner of her being.

  On the screen were a series of thin blue lines that remained as doggedly flat as the horizon of a savanna. The sick poetry of the image did not escape Nancy—in her mind there was no doubting that the electronic sound and graph’s hopeless flatness were a couple made for one another, the one singing the other’s oblivion.

  “Oh God, please help her. Please help, God, please Jesus, please,” Nancy was whimpering in a never ceasing dirge.

  Then, over the monitor’s squeal, came a higher shrill that rose rapidly in intensity until it’s pitch was a sickening prelude to what Nancy knew would be coming next.

  “Ready to defib. Clear?” The medic’s voice was ragged.

  “Clear!” Came the confirmation.

  The sound was a solid body blow that seemed to slap the floor, and Catherine’s body convulsed to the shock, dancing a sick little momentary jig… pretending for a moment to be life, it fell limply back, dead onto the floor.

  The monitor issued one lazy blip, and its graphic display allowed one single hill to amble across its length until it fell into nothingness off the edge of the screen.

  “Another unit adrenaline,” the team leader called.

  A syringe was dispensed into the pipe that pierced the femur artery of Catherine’s exposed crotch.

  “Defib again. Clear?”

  “Clear!”

  The pads socked the lifeless body with another heartless blow, and another lonely hill meandered across and off of the screen.

  “We’re loosing her…! Notch the current…”

  The defibrillation pad’s dial was clicked up another setting.

  “Defib. Clear?”

  “Clear!”

  THUD! Went the corpse.

  Blip went the machine.

  “Another notch. Defibing. Clear?”

  “Clear!”

  THUD!

  Blip.

  Nancy couldn’t watch the barbaric spectacle another second. She retreated to the sofa where happy music was still pumping out the hits to nobody in particular.

  Until that moment she’d been oblivious to the television. “Like a bat out of hell…” the podgy singer screamed his lyrics at her before she punched his image into darkness with the remote control’s off button.

  As she crouched on the sofa, several more heavy thuds came bounding up under her heels. A policeman cautiously approached to inform her that they’d found nothing, but would continue their search. At that point Nancy didn’t care about anything except Catherine’s revival, and she waved him away with what small gratitude she could muster.

  Try as she might, her attention could not be torn away from the knot of people and equipment at the foot of the stairs. A strange sensation began to grip her as the macabre sensations of hope and dread danced with the activity of dry science.

  As she looked on, her own spirit seemed to become external to her body as it searched, beseeching Catherine to return… or at least respond.

  “Clear?”

  “Clear!”

  THUD!

  Blip.

  Catherine’s body bucked with a tease of life, one single staccato pose in the strobe lighted frame of a grotesque dance. But it was hopeless and all over, the reality of a fair fight lost, a bitter pill swallowed after so much effort. It was in the medic team’s body language, the hope gone out of their voices.

  The realization was beginning to sink in, and the currents of despair that followed tugged and dragged Nancy deep into a pit of dull surrealism.

  “Got her!” It had a triumphant ring to it.

  The voice appeared distant, unreal, a wafer of sound in the commotion. For an endless second it seemed to hang, more like a fancy of Nancy’s memory, and then came the sharp yank back into reality and perspective of keen adrenaline washed senses.

  “I’ve got fibulation, she needs oxygen! Challenge 250ml I.V. push, NOW!”

  “Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip…�
��

  Through the air the electronic flutter came stuttering to life.

  Nancy had risen to her feet and tottered zombie-like toward the elated pack before full cognizance came rushing into her mind.

  “Sh… she’s alive?” She begged of them, still in disbelief.

  “Only just Ma’am.”

  The medic was ashen and looked shaken, “we were very lucky… two or three more attempts and we’d have quit.”

  “She’s going to be all right ?” Nancy was consumed by the delirium of joy and tears.

  “We’ll have to stabilize her to confirm status. But, yes. We have her… the worst should be over. Is she your sister?”

  “Just friends.”

  “It’s the strong likeness, I’m sorry. You say that she had a previous concussion?”

  “Last week, Friday night, her doctor said that it was very serious.”

  “Then we had an angel with us, she must have the heart of a lion… and a blessing from God!”

  “Good,” Nancy corrected him on reflex.

  “Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you very much.”

  The medic gladly and rightly took the praise for having achieved the impossible.

  Chapter 37

  “And you are adamant that you fired the shot’s from exactly here… and Torrington was there?”

  David was standing on the precise spot, with his knees bent to bring his line of sight onto the same elevation as Nancy’s. With his fingers he mimicked a gun, sighting the bullet’s strike marks down the length of the imagined weapon.

  “Yes,” Nancy stated unwaveringly, they’d already been through this rigmarole a dozen times. He moved the tripod onto the spot and orientated the laser point in its clasp until it sat in the middle of the circled area on the distant wall.

  “I’m sorry that I have to do this to you,” the giant coaxed her gently, “but you’ve got to understand, Nancy, the way you’re telling it, it’s not going to look good to a court.”

  David would much prefer if Nancy would claim to be a poor shot, that way she could also claim to have fired wildly.

  Instead, she remained tenacious in her determination to stick to the unbending truth of the matter—the fact that, where the three tightly grouped projectiles had punched holes into the plaster, had been exactly where she had intended them to strike—because that’s precisely the direction in which Ken had fled.

  “Nancy, that is a recess in the landing that doesn’t lead anywhere,” David had argued, “The only way Torrington could have escaped, lies ninety degrees to your claim, if he’d fled in that direction,” he pointed into the bedroom.

  The house had been built to massive proportions with several recessed areas leading off of the main living space, creating the impression that the open-plan interior had more rooms leading away than it had.

  To make the prosecution’s case stronger, David needed Ken running toward the bedroom, where at least there had been a window through which to abscond.

  During the previous days, while Nancy had acted as Catherine’s voice, David had instinctively come to like and trust her.

  “Nancy, I must tell you something. I absolutely believe your version of the events… then again, I’m on your side and it really doesn’t matter what I believe. To make a case work properly sometimes takes a little bending of truth. Now that’s not the same as lying… In this case your life had been in danger, so you have the opportunity to claim you fired wildly. It won’t detract from you or this case, whereas to get a court to believe that Ken ran into that recess… into a dead end and not re-emerge… well, it’s handing him an acquittal on a plate! It’ll fatally injure your credibility as a witness. The defense will crucify you, their lawyers will character assassinate you in ways that you couldn’t imagine possible. They’ll nail us to a wall…” David needed to harangue the point so she understood, because he had much, much worse news for her.

  It was already late morning and the fatigue from her sleepless night and roller coaster of events had sapped Nancy’s energy. She’d willed her mind to be lucid. What David had just said was horrifyingly true. Fortunately she’d held off making a statement to the police, insisting that she’d only do so through her lawyer; and with all David had detailed, it proved to have been the prudent choice;

  “When will Jacky be back?” David asked.

  Nancy checked her watch, “She should be landing about now. I’ve left a message for her to contact me urgently. I’d rather tell her what’s happened in person, I don’t think it’s a good idea to give the news over the phone.”

  David checked his own watch, “Ok, I’ll wait with you.”

  “Thanks, I could do with the support. You want a coffee?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  They settled down on opposite sides of the open plan kitchen’s central counter, and David dropped the rest of his bombshell.

  “Nancy, I must level with you on something… This will be a bitter pill to swallow but it’s better that I’m straight with you,” He cleared his throat, “Don’t take this personally please, but you’re going to make a poor witness.”

  In spite of David’s caution, Nancy leapt to defend herself.

  David cut her short, “Hang on… hang on. Don’t jump to conclusions. Listen to the facts. Firstly, you’ve just walked out of the employ of the same man that you’re now alleging made this attack. Your relationship with this man is what? Good? Indifferent?” David shrugged.

  “Not the best,” Nancy admitted.

  It was obvious where his argument would lead.

  “Ok, now you’re a woman overnighting with your friend, near naked and alone in this room with this woman who is… She’s a…?”

  “Gay…?”

  “Indeed… and she trips and falls down the stairs…”

  Nancy was aghast; this was a line of argument that in her wildest dreams she hadn’t anticipated.

  David pressed relentlessly on;

  “She’s wet from a shower, and there are signs of a struggle upstairs. A lover’s quarrel? Possibly. There’s water on the floor, the bed is ruffled.”

  “Oh Christ David, come off of it! She’s in a relationship—her girlfriend knew I’m staying over… What are you suggesting?”

  “It’s not what I suggest Nancy, it’s what the defense will suggest. Ken knows that Catherine’s gay. Her girlfriend is out of town… even if Jacky swears on a stack of bibles this high,” he held his hand to his waist—it was closer to her shoulder height, “Even if she says it’s sanctioned… If, and God forbid it doesn’t happen, Catherine is in a coma the defense will make a mess out of it. They’ll try to get under Jacky’s skin.”

  “You are kidding me…”

  “No… this is my world. How’s the relationship between Catherine and Jacky generally perceived? Morally, I mean… ethically?”

  “Do you mean that they’ll try to swing this whole thing on me? That I’m trying to make mileage out of it to frame Ken?” Nancy was flabbergasted.

  “Right…” David nodded.

  “Catherine and I were lover’s on the side… we got into an argument, she took a shower and I maybe hit her? We struggled through the room?”

  David was still nodding in agreement.

  “I ran down here with the gun and when she showed herself I shot at her and.”

  “Not the gun Nancy, your gun!” David corrected her.

  His comment drove the wind out of her sails, and a smirk of disbelief ticked the corners of her mouth.

  “This time you’re joking with me, right? That would wash? I mean, if Catherine recovers and she testifies against that argument?”

  “Is Catherine currently trying to nail Torrington? Would she like Jacky to find out about your little secret affair? I mean, you’re not currently in any other relationship, are you? Is it less plausible than the statement that you’re going to make?”

  Tears of frustration washed away Nancy’s vision. How could people twist the plain truth so far? How?

>   Her mind raced and crammed with violent rage.

  David had no option but to keep pressing on, it would be far less painful for Nancy to hear this spoken in private, than before a packed court and baying media;

  “There was no sign of entry… none. The house was locked tight as a nun’s do-wattie… There’s no sign of an escape. And…” He paused dramatically, “…I haven’t had a chance to tell you this yet, but Torrington is in Hawaii, that has been confirmed,” David could see the genuine shock frozen in chalky terror on her face.

  “Hawaii, what’s in Hawaii? He wasn’t scheduled to go to Hawaii,” Nancy thought out aloud, looking for a reason to discount the evidence.

  “You mean he wasn’t scheduled on the day that you were fired, which was…?” David pointed out.

  “I resigned!! It was Monday.”

  “Well Thursday morning the company jet touched down in Washington, he took a party of friends with him.”

  “Let me guess, he’s buying support from some of his high-placed political clients.”

  “Exactly! He flew out, and they are only scheduled back next Monday, the police have the flight logs.”

  “But Jacky will be able to corroborate that he has been here, or at least an apparition which resembles him has been here, when he was abroad before.”

  “What does that sound like in court…? ‘Your honor… one of the lesbians says that the man’s ghost was previously here… Oh… okay then, he must be guilty’.”

  She started crying, crying in earnest.

  “I’m not being cruel, I’m helping steer you… don’t fret about proving things to me, honey, you’re not on trial,” David omitted to add “yet”, then continued; “Even if you’re right, it’s still going to make it impossible for us to book the bastard, the courts don’t deal with more than the facts.”

  “Skew facts,” Nancy corrected him between sobs.

  Chapter 38

  The line was an undulating ocean of hills and valleys the sight of which was a poignant relief to Nancy, locked as her recollection was on that awful flat blue line. It had indelibly burnt a horizon across her memory; innocence before the line, a grasp of what tragedy really meant beyond it, a bitter emotion that she knew would extend to the end of her days.