There was devastation. There was blood. There were bodies without parts and parts without bodies. Horses disconnected from carriages ran in the street.
Cassidy lay on the ground, Gregory on top of her. He was unconscious. The world was filled with a high-pitched ringing sound. It warped and distorted as though seen through a fish bowl. Cassidy tried to collect herself, but her words seemed to crawl out of her mouth in a slow, slurred, drawl.
She reached out and grabbed Gregory's face. “Gregory?... Gregory?” He didn't respond. She pressed her hand on his neck to check for a pulse. She then pushed him off. She rolled over onto her side, the world seemingly flexing and moving underneath her. She lurched to her feet and analyzed herself. Small patches of blood dotted her dress.
“Jebediah!” she yelled into the wreckage. The previously ornate interior was utterly destroyed. The dining room, visible through holes in the wall, was gone — wiped out. She stumbled in the pile of wood and twisted metal. “Gideon!”
“Unngggg. Cassidy,” a voice said under the wood. “Cassidy!” It was Gideon. He pushed some of the wood off of him. Cassidy hurried as best she could over to him. She threw rubble off of him.
“Are you hurt?” she asked through her muffled senses.
Gideon, even more shell-shocked than Cassidy, drifted in and out of semi-consciousness. Cassidy cleared the rest of the wood and metal off of him and revealed a large piece of wood embedded in his thigh, blood staining his pants and the unstained, pale wood.
“Oh Jesus,” said Cassidy. The sound of movement came through her damaged ears. She turned to find people arriving to help.
“Ma'am, are you hurt?” asked an older man.
“No. But this man needs to be moved out of here,” she motioned to Gideon. “There are two other men in here somewhere. We need to find them.”
Three more people came in behind the older gentleman and they began to move out wood and metal. They found the maître d’ first, he appeared uninjured. Then after a short time of searching they pulled Jebediah's body from wreckage. His body was covered in blood, with small streams coming from his nostrils and both of his ears. Cassidy fell to her knees next to him. “Jebediah!” she yelled, her hand on his face. “Jebediah!”
---
Cassidy sat on the step of a carriage, resting her arms on her legs, her head down. A man with a stethoscope around his neck walked up to her and lightly touched her shoulder. She inhaled deeply in surprise as she lifted her head.
“I'm sorry to surprise you,” said the doctor, leaning down onto one knee. “How are your ears?”
“Better,” said Cassidy, hoarse and weary. “Not good, but better.”
The doctor nodded. “I have an update about your friends. Mr. Atwater will be fine. He suffered a serious intrusion with the large piece of wood, but we will remove it and he should be able to walk, albeit slowly.”
Cassidy nodded. “And?”
The doctor held his head low, with a sad look on his face. “We cannot wake Mr. Ames.” Cassidy sighed and looked straight down at the ground. “He took the full force of the blast. I think that there may be internal bleeding. It pains me to say this, but he's in God's hands now.”
Cassidy remained motionless.
“Do you think you are able to speak to the police?”
Cassidy nodded. “I won't...”
The doctor reached out to hold her hand.
“Mr. Ames and Mr. Atwater are already en route to the hospital, I recommend that you come too.”
“Will there be space for me after this?”
“Yes...” The doctor searched for words. “No one else survived.”
---
Cassidy walked through the hospital, still wearing her dress, looking like she just ran a decathlon through a mine field. She walked out of the hallway into the room where Gideon was lying on the bed, his pant leg ripped off and his leg bandaged and raised. She sat on his bed, which stirred him.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi. How do you feel?” she said delicately.
“I feel like every part of my body was punched at once.”
“Yeah. How's your hearing?”
“Muffled. Very muffled. At least the ringing stopped.”
“The doctor told me that our hearing should come back in a week or so. I don't trust doctors, though, so I assume that he's a fucking liar.”
Gideon smiled and let out a quiet chuckle. “Where's Jebediah?”
“He's down the hall. I'm going to see him next. I wanted to come here first because he's still asleep... They can't wake him up.”
They looked at each other with equally concerned looks. “That's never good,” said Gideon.
“No. It isn't,” said Cassidy. “Where's the doctor?”
“You missed him by a moment,” replied Gideon. “He's off getting something. I'm sure that its important, although he's assuredly a fucking liar,” he said with a faint smile. Cassidy smiled back.
“I'm sorry,” Cassidy said quietly. Gideon placed his hand on top of hers on the bed.
“No need,” he said. “I've been at this for years, and this is my first real bit of excitement. And, hey, I survived.”
Cassidy didn't respond initially. “Yes. But others didn't.”
Gideon gripped her hand tightly. “You didn't cause that explosion. I know that you are usually the cause of the explosion, but you weren't this time. You did not hurt those people.”
“Survivors of things like this frequently feel guilty,” said the doctor in a British accent, suddenly appearing in the door. He was about fifty, slim, erudite-looking, and well-dressed. Cassidy and Gideon looked up. “I wish there was something I could say to help you, but I know full well that there isn't.” The doctor walked in next to the bed with his papers in hand. “It is not your fault that you survived. God's choices are inscrutable to us sometimes. We just have to accept that.”
Cassidy scoffed. “Your accent. Where are you from?” she asked.
“England,” he responded.
“That's quite a distance,” she said.
“It certainly is, excuse me,” the doctor said.
“Oh, yes,” Cassidy replied, getting up from the bed. The doctor lifted up the flaps of Gideon's pant leg to look at the skin around the wound.
“Good. Very good,” he said, covering the leg back up. “I came out here almost two years ago. I wanted to get as far away from home as I could.”
“Why?” asked Gideon.
“Because,” the doctor said, writing on some paper in his hand. “I was guilty that I survived.”
Cassidy and Gideon looked at the doctor, asking the question with their stares.
“I was a doctor in the Afghan war. Every man in my company, some who I had known since childhood, died. And not a single one from wounds. They were all taken by illness... randomly... cruelly.” The doctor stared at the floor, gazing into infinity. “God chose me,” he said, looking back up. “And I ran. I ran as far away as I could. And yet, still, out here, on the other side of the world, I found God waiting for me. He understood why I did what I did, and instead of condemning me, gave me good works in another land. He taught me that there is neither honor nor dishonor in death. It is what we do in life that saves us.”
No one spoke. The doctor and Gideon both looked at Cassidy, who was still looking away. Finally, she looked to the doctor and, with a faint smile, nodded.
“I hope that helps as much as it can. But now, for you, I've heard of you. I don't want you running around. I want you in bed for as long as you can tolerate it, resting, eating. You hear me?”
Cassidy smiled. “Yes. I hear you. I have no plans on going anywhere.”
“Good, because Mr. Atwater is going to be here for at least two days. We want to make sure that this wound doesn't get infected. I'm taking a chance leaving the leg on.”
“A chance I greatly appreciate,” said Gideon.
“Yes. Well, that's all I need for now. Don't wander, Miss St. Claire.”
“At the least,” replied Gideon. “So, if anyone should be apologizing to anyone, it's me to you. My injury is now going to keep you up.”
Cassidy smiled. “That's assuming that I would wait for you.”
“Oh yes,” Gideon said. “I forgot about they key part.” Gideon took a drink of water from a glass by his bed. “So do you think you'll be able to keep yourself entertained for two days?”
“Oh of course,” replied Cassidy. “I'm a big girl. I can find things to do. And it's not a bad place, either. It's not San Fran, but... it's not bad.”
“How many others are here from the blast?” asked Gideon.
“Didn't they tell you?” asked Cassidy, concerned.
Gideon's expression fell. He knew what she meant. “No. They didn't.”
Cassidy nodded and sighed.
“My god... How many?”
“Twenty-five that they're sure of. It could be more. They're still, well... matching body parts. Everyone was lucky that the area of the street in front of the building was lightly trafficked at the time.”
Gideon sunk into the bed. “Do they have any ideas?”
“Oh, I don't know. I haven't talked to anyone but the doctors.”
As Cassidy sat there, a young nurse, no more than twenty, walked in. “Hi,” she said in a sweet tone. Cassidy nodded.
“Hi,” replied Gideon.
“It's time to change those bandages,” the nurse said.
“Already?” asked Gideon.
“Yes, we need to make sure it stays clean and doesn't keep bleeding. After today we'll change them once a day, but for now, we want to keep a watchful eye on it.”
Cassidy patted Gideon on the shoulder. “I'll get out of here while she does that. I need to go check on Jebediah anyhow.”
“Have fun. I'm not going anywhere,” he said. The nurse giggled.
Cassidy walked out the door slowly and stiffly. She put her hands against her back and pushed, sending a resounding crack out of her spine.
“I really like your watch,” the nurse said to Gideon. Cassidy paused to listen.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I hate it. It was a gift from my Dad. He's never had good taste.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes a bit. “Smooth, Gideon. Very smooth,” she said quietly.
Cassidy walked up to the door to a room and knocked on the door before walking in. The room was empty. The bed had its linens removed and the sink was empty. Cassidy stepped out, looked at the room number, then walked down the hall a few feet to a nurse.
“Excuse me,” Cassidy said. “Where is Mr. Ames? I was told that he would be in this room.”
“The man from the bomb attack? His family came to get him. They said they had a private physician ready to care for him.”
“Family? What family? He lives in Washington D.C.”
“I don't know, miss. We cleared him for release, though.”
“You just let him go?!” Cassidy started to become agitated. “When did this happen?”
“Uh, uh, ten minutes ago. They had a litter ready for him.”
“Damnit!” Cassidy yelled as she began to jog down the hall. She ran to a window that overlooked the street. She lifted the window and looked out to see two carriages parked by the front of the building, on a path encircling a round grassy area. Two men were standing on the far side of one of the carriages. She waited, watching. The two men shut the door and backed away, revealing a litter that they had been carrying.
“Cassidy? Was that you? Is something wrong?” asked Gideon from his room.
Cassidy ran back down the hall, stopping by Gideon's room and leaning in. “I'll be right back!” she yelled.
“Cassidy? Cassidy?! Dammit!” yelled Gideon.
Cassidy ran down three flights of stairs, charging past nurses as she went. Bursting out of the hospital, she looked across the circular garden to see the carriage already trotting away down a path away from the garden.
She started to run but was quickly reduced to a high-speed hobble as she grimaced in pain. “This isn't going to work,” she grunted. She turned to the right, breathing heavily, and started hobbling down the grassy hill toward the road. As she pursued, the carriages reached the road and turned left, heading back toward town. She stopped and looked around, turning with interest to the sounds of horses and train bells. She started to run across the street to a small train stop where horse-drawn rail cars were picking up passengers for the trip into town. As Cassidy hurried, a cart was just leaving on its way up the road directly parallel to the road that the carriages took. Cassidy hobbled as fast as she could go, yelling for them to stop. The man driving the carriage noticed Cassidy and stopped, looking immensely concerned.
“Miss! Are you alright!?” he said in shock.
“No! Yes! No! I will pay you five dollars to simply go that way as fast as you can!” Cassidy hopped onto the car, looking like a disheveled crazy person next to all of the other passengers.
“Five dollars? Pull the other one!” the driver yelled back to Cassidy.
“Bah!” Cassidy yelled, reaching into her bosom yet again, before ripping out a mangled five dollar bill. “There!” she yelled, handing it to the driver.
The driver seemed more impressed than shocked. “Alright then. Off we go!” He cracked the reins and the horses pulled.
As the rail cart went along, Cassidy kept her eye down the cross streets. “Can't you go faster?!” she yelled.
“I'm sorry ma'am! This isn't exactly a locomotive!”
“What's this all about?” asked an older man sitting next to Cassidy.
“A friend of mine was just kidnapped from the hospital where we were both being treated for bomb wounds. I'm trying to get him back.”
“Oh,” said the older man.
“There!” Cassidy blurted. Down a cross street, she could see both carriages trotting as the houses went by.
“Are those them?” asked an old woman sitting across from Cassidy.
“Yes they are.”
“What are you going to do when you catch them?” asked the woman.
Cassidy stared off into the distance for a moment. “I don't know. I don't have my gun.”
The old woman reached into her purse and pulled out a small revolver. “Here you go, darling.”
Cassidy turned and looked at the woman in surprised confusion. “You're armed?”
“Of course I am. Us girls have to protect ourselves out here, you know.”
“We certainly do,” Cassidy said with a smile. “My name's Cassidy.”
“Mine is Marjorie. Marjorie Bell.”
“Really?” Cassidy said, with a smile.
“Ma'am!” the driver yelled. “The carriages have turned to the right, they're going to cross our tracks behind us!”
Cassidy looked behind the carriage and to the left. The road that the other two carriages were on curved to the right and intersected with her road. Cassidy stood and looked all around.
“What should I do, ma'am?” asked the driver.
“Stop here,” she said. “They have to come this way to go farther.”
The carriage came to a stop and Cassidy got out. She went and stood in the road just behind the rail carriage. Everyone stared up at the two carriages. They came to a stop at the intersection. After a moment's pause, the two turned right.
“Damnit!” Cassidy yelled. She immediately started run-limping down the road.
“Go get 'em!” yelled Marjorie.
“Your gun will be returned to you post-haste!” yelled Cassidy in return.
Ahead, the two carriages turned left and proceed up a small incline. Cassidy was unable to cut them off because the hill to her left was too steep to easily ascend until the road. Her stride was getting longer and easier, giving her more speed. She ran up the hill as quickly as she could, huffing and puffing. Sh
e reached the top of the hill, panting, just as the carriage was reaching the cross street and turning left. At the corner was a horse tied to a post by a white house directly on the corner. “Ha! Perfect!” Cassidy yelled.
Energized by her new goal, she trotted up to the horse. She pulled the knot on the horse's tie and then attempted to mount the horse in a sweeping motion. This of course failed and she, moaning and groaning, barely got her leg on top of the horse before having her body fall against the horse, supported only be her foot in the stirrup. She humped her way onto the top of the horse, giving a big exhale when she got there. She sat up just in time for the owner of the horse, a young man in a brown suit, to come running out.
“That's my horse! You're stealing my horse!” the man yelled.
“Don't worry! I'll bring him back!” Cassidy responded.
Cassidy then cracked the reins, turned the horse, and rearing him up onto its back legs, drove him square into a carriage that had just come around the corner. Cassidy was flung off the horse and onto the ground on the other side of the carriage. The horse was completely embedded in the now-wrecked carriage cabin, its passengers dangling out either side, wrapped in the wreckage.
“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” Cassidy screamed into the sky. The horses owner ran around to Cassidy's side of the carriage, looking at the horse, seemingly calm with its rear sticking out one side of the carriage and its head out the other.
“See. Told you I'd bring it back,” said Cassidy.
Another young man on a horse, dressed like a gentleman, trotted up to the scene. Cassidy got up, ran over to the man and held her hand up to him. He looked at her, confused. “Well, help me up!” Cassidy commanded. The man did so. She sat behind him and then pointed ahead. “Go!” she said. The man, now looking confused and shocked, obeyed. They rode around the corner and the road was empty.
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 28
