by Vin Carver
Seth wanted to disagree with the surgeon, but he didn’t know enough about medicine to make a valid argument. The surgeon explained that the tumor targeted for removal had intertwined with the surrounding organs. Even if they could remove it, more tumors had cropped up overnight and would require more surgeries. More surgeries would mean more suffering for Cameron. More suffering for Cameron would mean more suffering for everyone. Seth was trapped on a train.
He tipped the receiver toward Cassie's ear. “It’s up to you and your wife. We can go ahead with the surgery today, or we can stop.” Cassie sobbed. “If we go ahead, please understand there is an increased risk of death, and new tumors may continue to appear. If we don’t go ahead, then I’ll need to write a do-not-resuscitate order. Which direction would you like to go?”
Seth's train ran off the rails. He covered the receiver with his palm and searched Cassie’s eyes for hope.
She took his hand. “So, that’s it then,” she said. “We’re done.” Her lips quivered, and her eyes fell behind a wall of water.
Seth put the receiver to his head, and told himself to say, We’re not ready to give up. We want to keep fighting.
He heard himself say, “Go ahead and write the DNR. We don’t want Cameron to suffer anymore. We’ve all suffered enough.”
Cassie burst into tears. Seth dropped the phone, and she fell into his arms. He held onto her with everything he had, but it was too late. A new train had left the station, and he needed a drink. In another part of the hospital, Cameron lay on an operating table, unconscious and innocent. The doctors had been right. There was nothing he could do.
Hand in hand, they walked to the waiting room. Seth had to get out of there. Cassie grabbed him by the back of the elbow, and he turned around.
Her eyes searched his for hope. “Where do we go from here? Where do we go now?” She put her hand on his face. “What do we do?”
The brown-haired girl tapped the glass, and an orange fish darted to the back of the tank. The bald girl giggled. Cassie’s sister brought Warren back into the waiting room, and he stared up at his parents. He smiled and licked his ice cream cone.
Seth gently pulled Cassie’s hand away from his face and held it. “There’s only one thing we can do. Look away, then, walk away.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Christmas Ribbons
Warren sprang across the hall and shot into the intensive care unit. The unit smelled like alcohol—clean, sterile, and dangerous. He pulled on his mom’s curtain, but the metal rings bunched together and kept it from sliding open. He lifted the curtain up and crawled beneath it. A green line ran across a screen, jumping every time the heart rate monitor beeped. The tubes and wires appeared untouched. He put his hand on her wrist. She was warm.
What had Cameron done?
Warren traced the wide tube coming from her mouth back to a stack of machines. The machines didn’t display any errors he could understand. If Cameron had done something, then alarms would sound, or so Warren thought. Breathing in quick but deep breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to visualize his mom’s area when he’d first seen it. He saw a black and white drawing of the Eiffel Tower next to a duplicate drawing. Above the two drawings, he read WELCOME TO THE PANCAKE HOUSE - TRY OUR CREPES - CAN YOU SPOT THE DIFFERENCES. He shook his head and opened his eyes.
The curtain on the other side of his mom’s bed rested on top of a white waste can. He backed away from the waste can and stepped outside her curtain. The can was half-in and half-out of his mom’s area. He bent near the can and—
Tick…tick…tick…
A thwump followed by a k-flump came from the hallway, and Warren stood up straight. He raised his foot over the pedal and froze. In a flash, he pictured his foot going down and the lid popping up, a spark, and—kaboom. No more ICU. He eased his foot to the side and put it on the floor. His ears tuned out the cacophony of medical equipment and amplified the ticking.
Tick…tick…tick…
“Good move,” Cameron said. “Now step away from the can.” He waved a gun and motioned for Warren to join him in the hallway. A fluorescent light flickered overhead. “I’ve missed you, and I know you’ve missed me. Won’t you please come with me to Nirvana?”
Warren shook his head. The fluorescent light went out. “Last chance Warren.”
“No. I told you. I’m staying here.”
Tick…tick…tick…
“Okay, have it your way, bro. Get blown to smithereens. See what I care.” Cameron raised the gun, tilted his head, and took aim. “Just give me the urn, and I’ll let you live. Trust me, it sucks being dead.”
Warren stared at the gun. “Okay, okay. I’ll give it to you.” He pulled a strap off his shoulder, and the backpack fell. He caught it in one hand and unzipped the outer pocket with the other.
“Stop.” Cameron’s voice trembled. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to skip to Nirvana without me.” His eyes glistened, and his shoulders curled forward around the gun. A bulge formed below his Adam’s apple, and he swallowed.
Warren put his hand inside the outer pocket. “I’m not skipping anywhere.” He pulled the urn out and let the backpack fall to the floor. “Here, take it.” He held the urn out to Cameron. “Take it. I don’t want it. I’m staying here.”
Tick…tick…tick…
“Why won’t you come with me?” A tear ran down Cameron’s cheek and fell on the gun. “You’re not the only one who missed having a brother.”
BANG
Warren’s eyes closed, and he covered his ears. The urn fell and landed on his foot. He leaned away from the waste can and tried to run, but his feet slipped out from under him, and he sprawled onto the floor. He crawled under the attendant’s desk and gazed into the hallway.
Tick…tick…tick…
Cameron’s arms hung at his sides, pale and stark against his black, sleeveless shirt. His left hand still gripped the gun. His eyes stared straight ahead. A long, red tendril of smoke drifted out of his head through a hole in his cheek.
A shout came from the hallway. “Drop your weapon.”
Warren’s dad said, “Paul. No.” He stumbled behind Cameron with his arms raised and disappeared from view.
Paul said, “Get out of the way.”
BANG
Another tendril of smoke appeared and drifted from Cameron’s abdomen. His arms and face turned maroon. He gaped at Warren. The tendrils of smoke changed direction and circled back on Cameron like Christmas ribbons, one wrapping around his head, the other around his body. The smoke widened, obscured the hall, and vanished into the ceiling. Cameron was gone.
Tick…tick…tick…
Warren ran into the hallway. His dad leaned against the wall and rubbed the top of his head. A trickle of blood ran down his face, and Warren took a step toward him.
“Stop right there.” Paul stood at the end of the hall with his gun drawn, and his arms shaking. “Get down.”
Warren crouched near his dad. “It’s okay Paul. He’s gone.”
Paul eyed Warren. “Are you sure? Where’d he go?”
Warren motioned for Paul to come. His dad wiped blood off his face and looked at his hand.
Paul said, “Are you guys all right?”
Warren’s dad grimaced and looked at Warren. “That kid…your brothe—” He shot a glance at Paul. “That kid hit me in the head with a gun. Can you believe that?”
Warren nodded.
Paul said, “Which way did he go?”
“He went that way,” Warren said. “But don’t worry, he won’t get far. You shot him.”
Paul raised his gun and headed toward the water fountain.
Warren said, “Paul, he’s gone, come back. There’s a bomb in the ICU.”
Paul surveyed the area and holstered his gun. Warren ran into the ICU, and Paul followed him.
“It’s in that can. Listen. Do you hear it?”
Paul leaned over the can. “Yeah, I hear it.”
“Can you do something?”
&n
bsp; Paul’s face turned white. His eyes darted to the doorway.
“Don’t do it Paul. Don’t run. You’ve got to turn it off or something.”
“I don’t know. I think I should call for help.” His freckled cheeks pushed up into his eyelids. “I can’t—”
“Think Paul. This is your chance. Remember your training? Weren’t you at the top of your class? Come on, I know you can do this.”
“I can’t.”
Warren pulled on Paul’s arm and spoke from the top of his throat. “You put my mom in here, Toothpick. Now get her out.”
The vein’s in Paul’s neck doubled in size. He pushed Warren’s hand away, raised his black boot over the foot pedal, and—
“No.” Warren said.
Paul’s foot came down on the pedal, and the lid popped open.
Tick…tick…tick…
Warren put his hand on his chest and exhaled. Paul turned toward him and smiled. “If there’s ticking, then the detonator is timed, not switched, and yes, I was at the top of my class.” He reached inside the can and pulled out a lead pipe. Red and green wires ran around the pipe like Christmas ribbons. Paul used his fingers to trace the wires from a 9-volt battery to a white egg-timer. The dial on the timer showed less than a minute remaining.
Warren’s dad walked into the ICU. “What the hell is that?”
“What we have here is a good old-fashioned pipe bomb.” Paul beamed. “It’s like the bombs they used in the Middleton School shooting. We were able to study them at the academy because they never went off at the school.”
“Paul, there’s only a minute left.” Warren ran to the doorway and grabbed his dad’s hand.
Paul held up the bomb. “Wait, look at how simple it is. See these two nails?” He pointed at the dial. “When the timer hits zero, they will touch. The circuit will close, and—”
“Paul, it’s about to—”
Paul twisted the dial. “There. Now we have thirty more minutes before it blows up. Is that better?”
Warren exhaled. He let go of his dad’s hand and they hugged. “I’m sorry I ran away.”
His dad said, “I’m sorry too. For everything.”
Warren turned to Paul. “Thank you.”
“Yes.” Warren’s dad walked to Paul. “You’re a good man Officer Maxwell. Thanks for saving our lives.” He glanced at the curtains surrounding Warren’s mom. “And I forgive you.” He swallowed, and a plain, peaceful smile crossed his face. “I forgive you for what happened to Cass.”
Paul’s shoulders broadened, and he shook hands with Warren’s dad. Warren read the patch on Paul’s shoulder—TAMARACK’S FINEST—and believed it.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Bring Him In
“Pkshht…Officer Maxwell. Please report.”
Paul pulled his radio off his belt and walked into the hallway. Warren hovered by the door so he could hear Paul’s conversation.
“Maxwell here. Shots fired. The suspect escaped, but he may be injured. He is armed and dangerous. Over.” Paul waited for a response. He paced up and down the hallway, pressing the radio to his ear.
“Pkshht…The Chief wants to know why you lost him. Over.”
“The suspect left a pipe bomb in the hospital and ran away while I was disarming it.” The corners of Paul’s mouth lifted. “Over.”
Warren’s dad came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Warren didn’t hate it.
“Pkshht…Understood. Do you have the Renner boy in custody?”
Paul stopped in the doorway. His eyes met Warren’s, and Warren lowered his head. “Affirmative. He’s in custody, but he’s not under arrest.”
“Pkshht…Good. The preliminary evidence from the truck links the murders to someone else…wait. Hold.”
“Roger. Holding.”
Warren lifted his head.
“Pkshht…We have reason to believe your other suspect stole the truck after starting the fire, and now it seems he tried to bomb the hospital. The Chief says you’ve got to find this guy. Over.”
“What about the Renner boy? Over.”
“Pkshht…We don’t have anything to hold him on, but the Chief wants you to bring him in for questioning. Over.”
“I copy that. Tell him we’ll be at the station in ten minutes.” Paul clipped the radio to his belt and walked into the ICU. “Did you hear that Warren? They’re not blaming you anymore. Let’s go.”
Warren found the urn on the floor and picked it up. “Dad, did you see where the lid landed?”
Paul said, “Warren. Did you hear me? You’re not under arrest.”
Warren walked over to his mom’s curtain. “Yeah, that’s great.”
“But they want question you. Come on, let's go.”
“I’m not going to the station.” He pulled the curtain back and found the lid resting against a wheel beneath the bed. Warren picked up the lid and put it on the urn. The temperature in the room changed. Tiny bumps formed on the backs of Warren’s arms. “I’m going to find Tanner.”
Paul made a nervous smile. “That’s fine. I’ll give you a ride right after we go to the station. Where is he?”
“He’s lost,” Warren said. “He’s not anywhere you can take me.”
“If you don’t come with me now, I’ll have to arrest you.”
Warren’s dad glowered at Paul. “You’re not arresting anyone, Toothpick. I forgave you for shooting Cass, but I haven’t forgotten.”
“But, I promised the Chief—”
Warren’s dad stepped forward and came face to face with Paul. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t give up on my son. Not again. If Warren needs to go find his friend, then that’s what he’s going to do.” He bumped his bloated belly into Paul’s police belt. Paul fell off-balance and stumbled backward into the hallway.
“What are you doing? Don’t make me arrest you. I’m going to—”
“You’re going to leave Warren alone.” Seth stepped through the doorway behind Paul. “You can come out Warren, it’s okay.”
Warren wrapped his hands around the urn and shook it. The lid popped off onto the floor. The gold inlay blended with blue ceramic, swirled up, and covered the lip of the urn. He sat down and leaned against the attendant’s desk.
POP
The urn shook. Sparks formed around the rim, and an electric cloud hovered over the opening.
POP
The room tipped right and rotated. Paul ducked past Warren’s dad, tripped, and hit the floor. Swirls of blue electricity surged upward toward Warren’s face.
POP
Big Sharon stepped over Paul and stood in the doorway. She wore a white dress and blue bow in her hair. Her eyeliner pulled Warren in, and he saw his future in her eyes. She held a vase of white flowers in one hand, and a foil package in the other. An envelope with the word CASSIE on it hung from the vase. She smiled at Warren, and he smiled her.
POP
The room tipped left and reversed. Warren reached for the lid to the urn.
Big Sharon held out the foil package. “Here, I made you some banana brea—”
POP—POP, BANG
The lid disappeared before Warren could grab it. He sat up and—
“…I’m sorry I let this happen…”
The aroma of Sharon’s banana bread hung in the air.
“…you'll get better, buddy…”
The lid rattled on the urn. Steam escaped over the rim and formed a yeasty cloud. Warren sat up, put the urn into his backpack, and zipped it shut.
“…don’t die Warren. I promise I’ll find the guy that shot you.”
The tiles in the floor stretched into the empty hallway. Someone moved behind his mom’s curtain, and Warren’s throat tingled. Metal rings slid across the rails like finger nails on a chalkboard, and the curtain opened.
Nirvana Cameron’s eyes locked on Warren. “Don’t move.”
Warren eased himself up against the desk. His kind, older brother—the good Nirvana brother—had fire in his eyes.
&nbs
p; Nirvana Cameron clenched his fists, and his strong, square jaw quivered. “Why did you shoot my brother?” He walked toward Warren as if the answer wasn’t going to matter.
Warren raised his hands up. “I didn’t shoot him. The other Cameron shot him.” He realized how ridiculous this was the moment the words had left his mouth. He remembered the shooting. The silhouette in the hoodie…in Warren’s hoodie. Hellhole Cameron had set him up. “It wasn’t me. I swear. It was the other you.”
Nirvana Cameron’s forehead wrinkled, and he slowed his approach long enough for Warren to get away.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
My Condolences
Seth stepped to the side. Paul ducked by him, ran into a girl in a white dress, and hit the floor. The girl stepped over him and went into the ICU. Seth kept a straight face, but he was laughing on the inside. The ridiculous scene on the heels of almost getting blown up—the hit on the head only adding to the experience—made Seth want to burst out laughing, and he did.
Paul got to his feet. “What are you laughing at?”
A loud pop came from the ICU, and Paul turned around.
“Get out of my way.” Paul pushed past the girl and stormed through the doorway.
The girl turned around and frowned. Her lower lip touched her chin, and her shoulders slumped. An envelope with Cassie’s name dangled from a vase of flowers, and the girl held them out toward Seth.
He said, “Well aren’t you wonderful. Cass was only admitted a little while ago, you must have rushed to get here.”
The girl’s eyes brightened. Her cheeks flushed with color, and a giddy grin ran across her face. It was as if no one had ever talked to her before.
Seth took the vase of flowers. “Thank you. I’ll make sure Cass gets these.”
The girl walked down the hall and opened a foil package. She put something in her mouth as she turned the corner, and Seth smelled banana bread. It reminded him of his mom.
A large hand came down on Seth’s shoulder and startled him.
“Mr. Renner, do you have a moment?”
Seth put his hand on his chest and turned around. “Oh my God, Dick. You scared me.”