Carter was the leader of the SS? I had no idea how he could've possibly moved into that position when their old leader, Paul, was just killed a couple days earlier – by me. But it explained who the other guys were in the bank robbery videos we'd seen on the news.
I took a moment to try to figure out the best way to answer Carter's question. If I said the wrong thing, Krystal and I could've been in some real trouble. I knew that I was the hero and he was – in all likelihood – the villain, but that didn't mean I couldn't get my ass kicked. I didn't know what kind of simulation we were in, but I did know that pain felt awfully real. Between him and all the other gang members, they could really do a number on Krystal and I.
Another thing quickly crossed my mind. What if I was killed while in the simulation? Would I simply wake up back in the real world? Would I go back to the beginning of the game when I found the scroll on the desk? Or would it be game over for real in all worlds? I didn't know the answer and I really didn't want to find out.
“Well?” Carter asked, impatience in his voice, taking a few steps closer to us. “What are the two of you doing snooping around my pool hall?”
“We were looking for you,” I said.
“Oh?” Carter asked, crossing his arms. “I'm guessing it's not because you needed help with your philosophy homework. Why were you looking for me?”
“Because we know what you've been up to,” Krystal replied.
Carter uncrossed his arms and walked right up to the couch. He was taller and more muscular than me with jet black hair and brown eyes that were almost as dark. I hated to admit it, but Carter was a good-looking guy. A lot of bad stuff could be said about him but he was by no means an ugly man. He sat down on the arm closest to Krystal and ran a single finger down the length of her arm.
“Look who it is: Krystal Martinez. You know, looking back, I should've asked you out instead of that stuck-up friend of yours. You're much hotter than she is. And certainly way too hot for this chump,” Carter said, pointing at me. “Now, what is it that you think I've been up to?”
“We know that you've been robbing banks,” I said.
“Do you, now?”
“Yes, we do,” I continued. “But you've gone too far, Carter. You've hurt people. You've killed people. It has to stop. This isn't a game.”
Carter got up off the arm of the chair and started pacing around. I glanced over at Krystal and saw both fear and disgust in her eyes. After going back and forth a few times, Carter stopped in front of us and started laughing like crazy. He snapped his fingers and everyone else in the pool hall left the room, leaving just me, Krystal, and Carter. The man behind the counter and a few others disappeared into a back room and everyone else went out the front door.
“Oh, but it is a game!” he said, practically yelling. “And what a game it is! Surely you've figured it out by now. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. You'd never have the balls to come here otherwise. This is a game. And, right now, I'm killin' it.”
“When did you figure out it's a game? How did you figure it out?” I asked.
“When did I figure out we were in some kind of game? Oh, I don't know – about two seconds after finding that scroll the other day. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. The two of you just figured all this out, didn't you? You guys are wicked slow.”
“But how did you become the leader of the Southie Soldiers?” Krystal asked. “How did you figure it all out so quickly?”
“Unlike you two losers – who I'm guessing didn't read the permission slip you signed – I did. I knew that Professor Amundsen could throw us into a simulation without telling us at any given time. So I started asking around and learned that he was working on some kind of hyper-real role-playing game where the role you play is as yourself. But not just your regular self. It takes not just who you are but also who you wish you would become and makes it actually happen.
“I didn't know how the professor was going to get us into the game but didn't really care. I just knew that, as soon as I realized I was in the simulation, I was gonna have some real fun with it. And what fun I've been having!
“But then you two decided to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You came into my establishment telling me that I have to stop having fun. Oh and, speaking of which, it was just dumb luck that I became the leader of the Southie Soldiers. I had already been spending a lot of time down here in Southie when I wasn't in school and knew several members. The SS aren't the smartest bunch, but they're fiercely loyal and just lost their leader. They needed someone to guide them, someone who was both smart and ruthless. Strong and fearless. Someone like me.
“So I made my play to become their leader and it worked. Now I've got dozens and dozens of hardened, loyal followers ready to do my bidding, no questions asked. I'm more powerful than I've ever even dreamed of being. I've got everything that I've ever wanted. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you or anyone else take that away from me. Game or not, I like the way things are and they're not going to change.”
Carter whistled and all his thugs reappeared immediately. Again, he started pacing back and forth in front of the couch in silence.
“One way or another, this has to end, Carter,” I said. “You have to stop hurting people and stealing.”
He stopped directly in front of me and smiled. It wasn't a happy smile – it was pure evil.
“You're not really in a position to be making demands,” Carter said.
He looked at one of the men in the pool hall and motioned for him to come over. The man walked over to Carter and pulled out a gun, handing it to him. Krystal gasped and I may have, too. I was too freaked out to remember. Things weren't going at all like I planned, not that I really had any idea how things were supposed to go. All I knew was that I didn't want to die in a seedy pool hall in Southie.
“Please don't kill us,” Krystal begged. “We'll just leave. Right, James?”
“Yes,” I replied. “We'll leave.”
Carter looked back and forth between Krystal and I. He took a couple steps back from the couch and, looking right into my eyes, shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“Okay. You can leave,” he said to us, then turned toward the guys in front of the door. “Let them pass.”
The guys moved out of the way. Krystal and I got up off the couch, breathed a sigh of relief, and started walking toward the door. We were only about two steps from the exit when Carter spoke.
“Oh, one more thing,” he said, taking a few steps toward us. “The two of you are to stay out of my business from this moment forward. I'm in a good mood today, so this time I'm letting you get off easy. But if you stick your nose in my business again, the next one is going in your head.”
“The next one?” I asked. “The next wha-”
BANG!!!
I felt the sharpest pain of my entire life in my left shoulder. Carter had quickly raised the handgun and fired a round into my upper arm. Blood began flowing out of the wound, dripping down my arm and off my hand onto the floor. Before long, my arm was all red, covered in blood. Krystal screamed at the top of her lungs when she looked over at me and realized what'd happened. I clutched at my arm, putting as much pressure on the wound as possible. I might've been inside of a game but the pain was just as real as anything I'd ever experienced in real life.
In the corner of my eye, I noticed that my hit points had dropped down to one-hundred-and-twenty and the following popped up under them:
Gunshot (Shoulder) – Recurring Damage
“Now you can go,” Carter said, calmly. “Anywhere but to the police or to the hospital. If you go to either, I'll find you both and kill you.”
“You're a monster!” Krystal screamed.
Carter pointed the gun at her shoulder and said, “I'd hate to ruin such flawless skin but, if you also need a reminder for why you need to leave me alone, I'm feeling generous today. I'll gladly give you the same present that I just gave James.”
I stepped in front of Krystal, blocking Carter's shot and said, “Come on, Krystal. Not another word. Let's get out of here.”
One of the Southie Soldiers held the door open for us and we backed out of the pool hall. I was in more pain than I'd ever been in before. I'd always thought that pain couldn't get any worse than the time I got kicked in the balls during high school gym class by a kid who wore steel-toed boots every day. I was wrong: It could get much worse. Being shot was the most excruciating experience of my life.
I did my best to hide how much pain I was in from Krystal but probably wasn't doing a very good job. If you took one look at me and my bright red arm, you'd know that I was hurting badly. We hurried down the sidewalk, trying to get as far away from Side Pocket as possible.
“I can't believe he just shot you!” Krystal said, clearly shaken up by the whole experience. “What are you going to do? You obviously need help but Carter said he'd kill us both if we went to the hospital.”
It was hard to think about anything other than how much pain I was in, but I did my best to focus. I didn't know the first thing about treating a gunshot wound. All I knew was that I needed to find someone who did. Then, I thought of the doctor I'd rescued from the car accident, Melissa. She said that if I needed anything, anything at all, that I should call her.
“I'm going to call a doctor that I know,” I replied. “She'll know what to do.”
12.
Krystal and I took a seat in an alleyway so I could call Melissa. I was covered in blood and knew it was best to stay out of the public's view as much as possible. People tend to freak out when they see someone on the street oozing blood out of a fresh gunshot wound. While I took out my phone and dialed, I had Krystal put pressure on it for me. The bleeding was slowing but far from stopping.
“James!” Melissa answered after just one ring. “What a pleasant surprise. I honestly wasn't expecting to hear from you.”
“And I wasn't expecting you to answer,” I replied. “You're not at work? Don't doctors work like a hundred hours per week?”
“Usually, yeah. But, after what happened, I decided to take the whole week off. What's up?”
“I need your help.”
“I told you: Anything I can do for you, just ask. What is it?”
“Stop chit chatting,” Krystal interjected. “Tell her you've been shot and need immediate medical attention.”
“You've been shot?” Melissa asked after hearing what Krystal said. “James, you have to get to a hospital right away.”
“That's the thing: I can't,” I replied. “For reasons I can't get into right now, I can't go to the hospital. That's why I'm calling you.”
“Where is the wound?” Melissa asked.
“I'm my upper arm.”
“Did the bullet go right through? Or is it lodged in your arm?”
“I don't know. All I know is that it really hurts and it won't stop bleeding.”
“Put pressure on it and don't stop. I'm going to come get you. Where are you?”
“Southie.”
“It'll take me a few minutes to get down there. Just sit tight. I'll be there as soon as I can be. Text me the exact address where you are.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I hung up and messaged the address of the alley we were in to Melissa. Krystal and I sat there waiting for her to arrive. Little droplets of blood covered the pavement next to me, a new drop joining the others every so often. Neither of us said very much while we waited. I was in too much pain and Krystal was too frazzled. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know. Krystal's pupils were dilated, her eyes darting around frantically, and her forehead was covered in little beads of sweat. She had blood – my blood – all over her hands and clothes. Still, Krystal looked gorgeous.
It seemed like forever waiting for Melissa to arrive. When you're in pain, time seems to move slower. And, the more pain you're in, the slower it seems to go. Sitting in that alleyway, I was in more pain than I'd ever been in before. I don't know how much time actually went by but, eventually, Melissa arrived. She pulled up to the alleyway entrance in a black Chevy Tahoe. It was a full-size sport utility vehicle and looked like it could've been brand new.
Melissa quickly hopped out of the vehicle and, after grabbing a small bag from the passenger seat, ran over to me. Unlike Krystal, she had a calm, focused look on her face. That's what you want to see from a medical professional. If Melissa had Krystal's look on her face, I'd know I was in some real trouble.
Melissa pulled out a pair of gloves from the bag and put them on. Without saying a word, she examined the wound, gently moving my arm in a few different directions. It hurt really badly, but I didn't resist and did my best to maintain a neutral facial expression. I wanted to come across as strong and tough for both women even though, on the inside, I wanted to cry like a little girl with a skinned knee. Melissa let go of my arm, looked me in the eyes and, with just a few words, made me feel a million times better.
“You got really lucky,” she said. “You're going to be fine.”
“Thank goodness!” Krystal yelled, a huge smile on her face.
“The bullet went right through your arm,” Melissa continued. “It just missed your brachial artery and just missed the bone. But you're gonna need to have the wound thoroughly cleaned and stitched up. It's not something that should be done in a dark, dirty alleyway. Let me take you back to my condo and I'll fix you up.”
“Okay,” I agreed without hesitation.
“I'm so glad you're gonna be alright!” Krystal said.
“Oh yeah: Melissa, this is Krystal. We go to school together. And Krystal, this is Melissa. We met recently after she was in a car wreck.”
“After you saved my life,” Melissa added, then turned toward Krystal. “It's nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Krystal replied, then turned toward me. “Do you want me to come with you guys?”
“Why don't you go home and get cleaned up,” I suggested. “I'll call or message you once I'm all patched up.”
“You sure?” Krystal asked.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm sure Melissa will take good care of me.”
“Oh, I'll take very good care of him,” Melissa said in a somewhat-seductive tone.
I could sense a hint of jealousy in Krystal's face when Melissa said that. She didn't argue, though. Krystal agreed to go change and wash all the blood off her hands. Melissa was kind enough to drive Krystal back to her dorm, which was more-or-less on the way to Melissa's condo. With blood all over her, it wouldn't have been a good idea for her to take the T back. Being as attractive as she was, Krystal always had guys – and often girls, too – checking her out. I can only imagine the looks she would've gotten being both attractive and covered in blood!
We dropped off Krystal at her dorm and went to Melissa's condo. She told me that the Chevy Tahoe was a rental and not to worry about getting blood all over it. Still, I did my best not to. Fortunately, the interior was black like the exterior and the little bit of blood I did get on the seat wasn't super noticeable.
Melissa's condo was really nice. It was on the fourteenth floor of her building, which seemed to be about halfway to the top. I'm pretty sure it was actually the thirteenth floor in reality, but they labeled it as the fourteenth for superstitious reasons. The elevator went eleven, twelve, then fourteen. It made me think of a Mitch Hedberg joke I'd heard when I was in high school. He joked that, if you jumped out a fourteenth-floor window from a building without a thirteenth floor, you'd die a little sooner than you were expecting.
Melissa's condo looked like the condo of a young, single doctor. There were pictures of her and some of her family members on the walls in addition to her medical degree. Overall, the place was pretty clean but there were a few dishes in the sink and some clothing lying around. Though I couldn't tell exactly what it was, there was a pleasant scent that filled the air. Lavender, maybe? Lilac? I don't know and, at the time, I d
idn't care to ask. Whatever it was, though, it was nice and made it a little easier to endure the intense pain I'd go through a minute later.
She brought me into the bathroom and, after helping me take off my shirt, had me sit down on the toilet so she could clean the gunshot wound. It was still bleeding a little bit but, with all the pressure I'd been applying since it happened, had slowed down considerably.
Melissa had an impressive collection of beauty products on the bathroom counter. I couldn't imagine why a woman as beautiful as her would need all those products – or any at all, really – but I'm a guy so I guess I couldn't possibly understand. On my side of the bathroom counter back at me and Kasie's apartment, all you'd find was a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a comb. That's it.
“This is going to hurt – a lot,” Melissa said.
“Do what you need to do,” I replied, trying to sound as courageous as possible. “I can handle it.”
And, on the outside, I think I appeared to handle it fine. On the inside, though, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. While sitting on the toilet, leaning over the tub, Melissa used some sort of saline spray to clean the wound. Expecting nothing less from such a smart, driven medical professional, she was very thorough – and every second of it was agony. Finally, she finished and I took a deep breath.
“That wasn't so bad,” I said, doing my best to sound cool and calm.
“Uh huh,” Melissa replied, not quite buying it. “Here. Take these. They'll help with the pain.”
She handed me a few pills and a glass of water. I tossed the pills into my mouth, realizing that it was incredibly dry. I downed them with the water, chugging the entire glass.
“Good,” Melissa said. “I want you to drink a lot of fluids today. You lost a decent amount of blood and, the more you drink, the faster your body will be able to make new blood cells. Once the painkillers start working in about a half hour, I'll stitch you up.”
Ordinary Hero Page 10