But Elliott heard none of it. Once the curtain closed behind him the cane slipped from his hand and he collapsed to the floor.
Stephanie, seated in rapt attention in front of her big screen, stood and applauded as well. But as she watched him walk slowly and woodenly from the stage, tears welled in her eyes. She noted how his coat hung from his shoulders. Something was wrong. “Oh Elliott, my beautiful Elliott what has happened to you?”
She knew there was something more than the results of a few years of aging going on with her former lover. She yearned to be by his side, to hold his face in her hands and kiss him. Then her anger grew. “You promised to call me when you were going to be in the Capitol and you didn’t!”
Throwing on her coat she dashed out the door and a few minutes later she was winding her way through heavy traffic towards the Capitol Mall. It took two hours of searching and finally a call to Capital Security to find that Elliott had taken Air Force One back to Colorado shortly after his speech. She booked a flight for the following morning and went back to her condo to pack and get a few hours sleep.
Chapter Sixty-One
The faint drone of airplane engines brought Elliott back from the edge of darkness. He was lying in a double bed, but noted the Seal of the President of the United States on the door. He was aboard Air Force One again. Glancing at a port window he saw it was dark outside. Dr. Yates sat snoring in a well cushioned chair at the foot of the bed. A single light glowed overhead.
He coughed and Yates was instantly awake.
“Elliott, how are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure, a little groggy and really quite thirsty.”
“Let me get you a glass of water.”
“Sure, thanks Doc.”
Elliott failed to tell the good doctor that his side ached terribly and both his knees hurt while there was also a singular pain in his chest.
The doctor returned with a small glass of water. Elliott finished it in three hefty gulps.
“Would you like another?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
Doctor Yates returned with another glass which Elliott drank down.
“One more for the road?”
“No. Not right now. By the way, where are we?”
“You don’t know?”
“Not really.”
“We’re probably over southern Indiana on board Air Force One headed back to Colorado which, I might add, you adamantly insisted on once you’d been brought around after your fall.”
“I fell?”
“Yes, and your cane hit you square in the chest on the way down.”
“That’s why my chest hurts.”
“You came around and insisted on leaving for Colorado immediately.”
“I don’t remember any of it.”
“I think it was dehydration, the medication and the strain of the speech.”
“That’s right, the speech. It came off okay?”
“Okay? The President said to tell you it was one of the most moving speeches he’d ever heard.”
“That’s good.”
“Good? You should hear some of the news pundits. I recorded several of them.”
Yates hit the power button on the flat screen TV built into the wall and said, “Let me take the intravenous tube out of your arm while you check out the news. I inserted it to ease the dehydration.”
MSNBC showed an announcer running through the numbers. “It appears that immediately after the speech over two hundred members of Congress withdrew their earmarks. When news of Mr. Eastman’s collapse after the speech and the filming of the event by a newswoman who just happened to be backstage reached the news wires, another one hundred and seventy five congressmen and woman withdrew their earmarks. We’ll be airing the speech again in its entirety on the morning program, but at this time we’ll show the events that transpired backstage once more.”
The screen went black and then it showed Elliott stumbling from the stage, clutching a curtain as he released his cane and for a brief instant managing to hold himself up. The cane stood on end as one of the security guards attempted to catch the former senator. The guard missed with his lunge and Elliott plunged face first catching the cane in the center of his chest, and then fell heavily to the floor. Women screamed and people rushed towards him.
The screen went black and the announcer appeared again.
“The latest information we have is that Mr. Eastman is headed home and said to be recovering from his fall quite satisfactorily.”
Dr. Yates muted the television. “So there you have it; the grand exit.”
Elliott groaned. “I can’t believe that was shown on national television.”
“I can’t believe you don’t have cracked ribs,” Yates responded.
“There is a significant degree of pain near my sternum,” admitted Elliott.
Doctor Yates said in low ones. “I took the liberty of probing about while you were out and I believe you are still in one piece. I also took the liberty of doing a few blood tests when you were out. I have some more bad news. It seems all I do is give you bad news, but I don’t think the bone marrow transplant is taking the way we had hoped. The t-cells are not multiplying as they should.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we’re losing the fight. The bone marrow was going to buy us some time and slow the pace of degeneration of your overall health and the bone cancer. It’s not like it wasn’t worth it, it’s just that the antigen it was supposed to support is not going to get the level of help we estimated.”
“English Doc.”
“You’re going to deteriorate much faster from here on out.”
“Which means?”
“You’re weakness will grow worse. Your incontinence will get worse. Pain will increase. You may experience some respiratory distress.”
“Meaning?”
“Your lungs may develop fluid in them making it harder to breath.”
“Go on.”
“There may be some organ damage.”
“Meaning?”
“Heart and liver damage. Blood flow will lessen and your liver will not process things as well. In fact, you probably should consider abstaining from alcohol.”
“Paul,” Elliott said, feigning being taken aback by the suggestion. “I’ve got three weeks to live and you’ll deny me my scotch?”
“I’m just saying …”
“Go on.”
“Eventually you’ll lose your clarity of thought. Most of your sight and hearing will blur and muscle control will lessen. You will lose the ability to speak. Then it might be a few days or a week at the most before you lose complete motor control. You won’t be able to stand or eat. Eventually you’ll be placed on a breathing apparatus. That’s about the time we call for the morphine drip. Finally you’ll be in a complete vegetative state, except there will be some brain activity.”
The doctor was sniffling now and struggling to retain his composure.
“And that’s when … that’s when we increase the morphine dose and you slowly go to sleep.”
“Hell Doc, it doesn’t sound that bad. It can’t be a whole lot worse than falling on my cane.”
“Don’t make jokes Elliott. I’ve seen it before and it’s not pretty. It’s not noble. It’s just ugly, sad and ignoble. I’m having a hard time with this. I don’t like seeing you this way.”
The two men sat quietly for a moment pondering what the immediate future held for each of them.
“I’ve got some morphine pills. They aren’t as strong as the drip, but they may help your chest injury,” Doctor Yates said putting a rather large bottle of pills on the nightstand while giving Elliott a knowing look. He stepped back and said, “The speech was very good, Elliott.”
“It would seem to have done the job.”
“That’s right, I almost forgot. The President called about an hour ago to check on you and said he’ll probably sign the bill tomorrow evening. It looks like 410 members of the House
have withdrawn their earmarks and 92 of the 100 Senators have withdrawn theirs.”
“That’s good,” Elliott said in a soft and very quiet tone.
“I want you to get some rest. We still have a long road ahead of us. We’ll be landing about three hours from now at about four in the morning and then we have a three hour ride to the ranch.”
“Okay. Thanks Doc.”
They landed in the private area of Colorado Springs Municipal Airport and Elliott walked painfully from the plane towards the Cadillac limousine waiting not far away. Dr. Yates helped Greer carry the bags from the plane to the car. Once they were seated in the limo with Greer in front and both the doctor and Elliott in back, Greer reached back and handed a bundle of newspapers to them saying, “I thought you might enjoy a little light reading.”
As Greer pulled out of the airport Elliott opened the first newspaper, The New York Times. The headlines screamed at the reader; “Smack down on Capitol Hill”. The Washington Post chimed in; “The Speech that Changed a Nation.” The local Denver Post carried the headline, “Mr. Eastman Goes to Washington” and carried the sub-heading; “Straight talk may bring end to era of pork.”
“Hmm,” Elliott mused. “It would seem we raised a ruckus.”
Dr. Yates chuckled. “Here’s your phone. I answered it a couple of times while you were resting and explained to two gentlemen, one Eddie and another Archie that you were okay. Stephanie called to see how you were doing. I explained you were resting and should be fine. By the way, I also checked my Yahoo account when we were on the plane and their lead story asked, ‘Who is Elliott Eastman?’ with a short bio, but I read the thread of comments. Apparently you have over 1000 marriage proposals.”
It was Elliott’s turn to chuckle and then he asked in all seriousness, “They didn’t include my home address in the article did they?”
“No, but it did mention you live in Colorado.”
Elliott sighed.
Doctor Yates yawned and said, “You know, I’m feeling pretty whipped. Would you mind if Greer drops me at my place and then I’ll come out to check on you in a day or two?”
“That’s fine,” Elliott said and passed the word to Greer. “I’m pretty worn too. I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“Sleep would do you some good.”
After dropping the good doctor off at his home they pulled into the ranch compound and Greer said, “I’ll carry your bags in Mr. E. and then I need to repair some fencing over by the buttes. Something punched through the barb wire. Is there anything you need me to help you with?”
“No, I’m going to say hello to Dusty and then lie down for awhile.”
“Why don’t you get some rest and then I’ll burn us a couple of steaks.”
“That sounds nice Greer,” Elliott said.
As he made his way for the barn his cell phone rang. It was the President.
“Elliott here.”
“Elliott, how are you feeling?”
“A little beat up, but better than a few hours ago.”
“Glad to hear it. Well I thought you’d want to know, SB 1190 is signed.”
His elation carried through the phone and Elliott smiled.
“That’s great news,” Elliott said in a tired voice.
“It was your speech that shook them up. I had a gut feeling having someone like you, with your resume, would be able to tip the scales in our favor.”
“That’s very kind of you, but it was a team effort. There were a number of other speakers. I think Tony’s speech was spot on.”
“Agreed. Have you seen the news? It’s all they’re talking about. Even Belosi admitted she had to withdraw her earmarks after your speech. She said she always thought of it as business as usual, but when you illustrated how grossly unfair it was to the American people she had to vote her conscience.”
“So I can imagine who the hold outs were who wouldn’t remove their earmarks.”
“The usual suspects. It was rumored Senator Graham tried to increase his earmarks.”
“We know some folks are never going to change.”
“Anyway, I wanted to pass along the good news. You sound tired so I’ll let you go.”
“Thanks Paul. We’ll talk in the next few days.”
Elliott spoke in low tones to Dusty, gave him a cube of sugar and then made his way to the house where he stripped off his clothes and curled up under the quilt on his bed.
Elliott slept for fourteen hours with Greer checking on him occasionally. Finally he got up around 8:00 pm, ate a few bites and went back to bed.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Greer sat bolt upright in his bunk. The fire in the potbelly stove had burned down to embers. A slight whiff of a breeze moved the curtains on either side of the window on the far wall. They brushed the wood siding of the bunkhouse with a very faint wisp of sound. A night bird called in the distance. These were all familiar sounds. Something else had brought the long time ranch hand out of a deep sleep. There it was again. He recognized the sound as that of the slow creak of a deck board bending under weight. Someone, or something, was over at the main house moving across the wrap around deck. Quietly Greer pulled on his boots over his long johns, lifted the double barreled .20 gauge shotgun from where it rested by the door and quietly stepped outside. A sliver of moon provided scant light, but Greer could still make out two figures in the deep shadows beside the house. As he watched, they rounded the corner of the house heading for the bedroom wing. Greer crept forward. The shadows stopped and one raised his right leg and planted a boot right in the middle of the French doors that led to the master bedroom. With the sound of splintering wood and shattered glass the door exploded inwards. The two men stepped inside and unloaded three shots each at the lump in the center of the bed. A split second later, from behind the two men, a bright flashlight burst to life spraying the two startled men with a halo of luminescence.
Elliott, seated in chair in the far corner of the room with a rifle leveled at them said, “I believe you owe me some new French doors and a mattress.”
“What the hell?” Bud mumbled, squinting into the blinding light.
“I suppose you were never taught when you mount an attack you should already have plotted your route of retreat,” Elliott advised.
Greer stepped into the room with glass crunching beneath his boots and the shotgun trained on the intruders saying, “You alright boss?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been listening to their slow progress around the house for the last ten minutes.”
“Drop yer guns,” Greer demanded.
The guns clattered to the floor.
“Who are you?” Elliott asked.
A voice spoke from the darkness. “It don’t matter who they are. Walk out here with your hands held high or one of you is gonna die in the next few seconds.”
Greer held the rifle above his head and stepped outside the door with Elliott not far behind.
“Set your guns at your feet and head for the road that leads outta here,” Reggie ordered. “Bud, Hulk, let’s get moving before someone else shows up. After all the racket you knuckleheads made I’m hoping this old guy is the only dude around here.”
The men walked about one hundred yards up the road with the two prisoners in the lead, Reggie behind them with Bud and Hulk bringing up the rear. Then Reggie said, “Turn right along this game trail.”
They covered about a quarter mile over uneven terrain and were nearing the forested hills south of the house when Elliott saw a slight movement off to his right in a low area. A brief high-pitched whistle sounded in the night similar to a night thrush’s cries. A response came from a short distance away. To the uninitiated ear it merely sounded like a winged creature of the night, but Elliott instantly recognized it as a cry he and his men had used many times in Afghanistan. Elliott slowed and finally stopped walking.
“Keep moving,” Reggie ordered.
“I can’t. I’ve got one titanium leg and the other one is in a cast. Look, we kno
w where this is headed. Let the old man go. It’s me you want. He’s not important to you.”
“He’s seen our faces. He ain’t going nowhere and I ain’t carrying your dead bodies for a couple hundred yards into the trees. It ain’t much further and then we’ll plug you and bury your bodies in the brush.”
“Look, God damn you. He’s just a lonely old man. He’s half blind and probably couldn’t pick you out of a lineup if his life depended on it!” Elliott shouted.
The captor’s eyes locked for a moment on Elliott’s raging display in the glow of the flashlight when a dull thud sounded close by and Hulk fell to the ground. As Bud looked around a rifle butt crashed into the side of his head and he fell to the ground also. Alerted by the noise behind him Reggie turned, but just as he did so a cold metal blade touched the side of his neck and a low voice said, “One sound and I slit your throat. Drop the rifle.”
The rifle clattered to the ground and then another sharp blow sounded and Reggie crumpled down beside his rifle.
Two figures materialized out of the night. Dressed in complete black with darkened faces and stocking caps, Jim Buckner and Gordon Harrison stepped forward asking, “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Elliott replied. “Where did you come from?”
“Once we were done interviewing Soro, Archie had him followed. Soro met with these jokers and Archie had a feeling they might try something. He figured it would be here at the ranch rather than in D.C. so he gave us some time off for camping nearby. We heard the gun shots at the house and then heard you guys marching along the road and just trailed along waiting for a chance to get close.”
“I’m glad you’re here. You probably just saved our lives.”
“What do you want to do with these three?” Jim asked.
“Get their wallets so we’ll be able to identify them in the future, if need be. And then have them take their boots off and walk out of here,” Elliott ordered.
The Return of Elliott Eastman Page 24