The Brotherhood

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  Boone arrived home to find Nikki dozing on the couch while her favorite TV show droned in the background.

  Boone walked her to bed, then peeked in on Josh, who was illuminated by the light from the hall. The toddler lay on his back, arms spread wide. With his pacifier inches from his face and his tiny lips slightly open, he looked cherubic. Boone laid a hand on the boy’s rhythmically rising and falling chest, causing the little guy to sigh and straighten his legs.

  Boone could have stood there all night.

  Suddenly Josh roused. When he saw Boone, he immediately jumped to his feet.

  “Oh, no, no, Joshie. Go back to sleep. Your mom will kill me.”

  But the boy wanted to play. Boone shut the door and tried to shush him, but Josh found his pacifier and fired it across the room, laughing.

  “Okay, time to go back to sleep.” Boone retrieved the pacifier, wrestled Josh down, and gently held him there until he relaxed, then wished him good night and crept out. As Boone pulled the door shut behind him, he heard Josh rise and bounce, and the pacifier went flying again.

  When Boone went to watch the news and wind down before getting his eight hours in anticipation of the next morning’s shift, he noticed Nikki’s Bible on the couch. Well, Pastor Sosa would have been proud of her, anyway. He was about to turn off the TV when he was startled to see Josh padding out, calling, “Da-da!”

  “Hey! How’d you get out? Did you wake Mommy?”

  But he knew better. Nikki would never allow him out of bed in the middle of the night. As he carried his son back to his room, he peeked in on her. Sound asleep. He shut Josh and himself in the baby’s room and allowed the boy to play while he set about lowering the crib mattress to the bottom slots. It would have been a lot easier with help, but he wasn’t about to wake Nikki.

  By the time he was finished, Josh was sitting on the floor idly watching, droopy-eyed. He didn’t squawk when Boone tucked him back in, and his eyes were shut before Boone left the room. He couldn’t wait to see Nikki’s reaction to the crib adjustment.

  Three Mondays later, dawn broke hot and humid and the Drakes’ air-conditioning kicked in before seven o’clock. Nikki looked amazing in short shorts and had dressed Josh in a tiny sunsuit he seemed to like. He was animated and talkative as ever at breakfast, sweeping food off his high chair tray, singing, laughing, and trying his best to talk to Boone about something.

  “I’m going to take Josh to the pool today,” Nikki said as Boone unlocked the gun safe above the refrigerator and snapped the 9mm into his holster. “Then I’ll mow the lawn.”

  “You don’t have to do that, babe,” Boone said. “I can do it when I get home.”

  “No, no, I want to. It won’t take twenty minutes.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? Wear something a little less sexy at the pool?”

  Nikki laughed. “Boone! The oldest male there will be about five.”

  “Really? Even the lifeguards?”

  “I don’t swim in shorts anyway.”

  “Can I vote for the one-piece suit?”

  She was still smiling. “You know I don’t wear the bikini unless you’re with me. Now stop it.”

  “Jack and I may find a reason to cruise by.”

  “Yeah, you’d better keep a lid on that crime-infested kiddie pool. Hey, before you go, I need help with the crib. You know he’s been getting out on his own again?”

  “You kidding me?”

  “Twice last night.”

  “I put it on the lowest setting weeks ago.”

  They went to look at it.

  “We’re going to have to figure out something else,” she said. “You think he’s ready for a big-boy bed already?”

  Boone shrugged. “Maybe if he’s not caged in, he won’t feel the need to escape.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta get going.”

  Back in the kitchen, Boone enjoyed a passionate good-bye kiss, then chuckled when Josh wanted a hug and a kiss too. When he left, Josh was saying bye-bye and waving.

  3

  The Unspeakable

  Boone had to ADMIT, if only to Keller, that other than the benefit of more family time, he didn’t care much for second watch.

  “Tell me about it,” Keller said. “All the fun stuff happens at night. I didn’t get into this racket to coax cats out of trees or check the credentials of door-to-door salesmen.”

  “The gangbangers pretty much sleep during the day too.”

  “Oh, I knew you could do it, Boones. You went almost the whole morning without whining about what we oughta do to the gangs. Enjoy day watch while it lasts. We’ll either be back on nights or in OCD before you know it.”

  “Now, Organized Crime is something I could sink my teeth into. How’s that process going?”

  “Oh, you know. The bureaucracy creeps along. More’n thirteen thousand sworn officers in this city, and I think every one of ’em wants that job. Believe me, if I get it, you’ll be the first to know.”

  By late morning, Boone was getting hungry. It had been a quiet shift. Their only call had been about a man in uniform going door to door, claiming to be an air-conditioning consultant from the city, wanting to make sure homeowners’ units were functioning properly. Keller called the power company and was assured no such personnel were making the rounds.

  They staked out the area and caught and jailed the impostor, discovering he had a history of theft using the same MO.

  Around noon Boone said, “Fast food or deli today?”

  Keller shrugged. “I shouldn’t have had that Danish on break. Can you wait an hour?”

  “Sure. Just pull into a drive-through so I can get a Coke.”

  Keller pointed the squad toward a fast-food joint a couple of blocks from headquarters, but just before he turned in, his cell phone chirped. He peeked at the readout, scowled, and pulled to the curb.

  “What?” Boone said.

  “It’s the precinct. Our radio not working?”

  Boone clicked the transmitter as Keller flipped open his phone. “Working fine,” Boone mouthed.

  “This is Keller. . . . Yeah, he’s right here. You wanna talk to h—? . . . Oh, okay. . . . Yeah? Oh no. Serious?” Keller swore and stole a glance at Boone.

  “What?”

  Keller held up a hand. “Where? . . . And Dr. who? . . . Okay, we’re rolling.” He flipped on the blue lights and the siren and swung onto Jackson, heading east.

  As other motorists gave way, Boone said, “What’s happening, Jack? Where we going?”

  “Presbyterian St. Luke’s.”

  The hospital was less than two miles east of headquarters, and Keller was flying, braking only to ease through red lights.

  “Why the phone call? We got an officer down?”

  “No, Boone, we don’t. They don’t want me to tell you till we get there, but I will if you’ll promise me you can keep it together.”

  “’Course! What?”

  “It’s your family.”

  Suddenly Boone was aware of nothing but the fear in Jack Keller’s eyes. He didn’t hear the siren, wasn’t aware of his body pressing against the seat belt as Jack raced through the streets. He forgot whether it was day or night, and his hunger and thirst were gone.

  “What happened?”

  “Some kind of accident.”

  “In the car? Nikki was going to walk Josh to—”

  “No, at home. A fire.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad, Boone. I’m sorry.”

  “Tell me they survived!”

  “I haven’t heard otherwise; now please, just let me get there.”

  “Jack, I’m not going to be able to handle it if they’re not all right. . . .”

  “Boone! Now, come on! We don’t know anything until we find out for ourselves.”

  As soon as the squad slid into the emergency room entrance, Boone was out and sprinting, leaving his cap and nightstick in the car. He burst through the door and up to a thin black woman at the desk. “Nikki and Josh Drake!” he said.r />
  “She’s already in surgery, Officer,” the woman said, eyeing the nameplate over his pocket. “Relative?”

  “Husband and father,” he said as Keller stepped in behind him. “I gotta know—”

  Keller interrupted. “I was told to ask for a Dr. Sarang—something. An Indian name?”

  The woman nodded. “Dr. Murari Sarangan is waiting for you in the conference room on 2.”

  “Sarangan?” Boone said. “He goes to our church. But listen, I want to see my family—”

  Keller grabbed Boone’s shoulder. “As soon as you can see them, I’m sure this doctor will make it happen. He’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

  Desperate as Boone was for hard information, his legs wobbled as he and Keller trotted up the stairs to the second-floor conference room. Dr. Sarangan, tall and in his late thirties, stood clutching a metal clipboard and wearing green surgical scrubs under a white lab coat.

  No greeting, no small talk, no smile. The doctor opened the door and said, “In here.”

  The last thing Boone wanted was to sit, but he didn’t trust himself to stand. “Just tell me,” he said, dropping into a chair.

  “Mr. Drake, I’m sorry,” Dr. Sarangan began. “I was just going off duty when I realized it was your wife and son in the ER. I asked if I could consult with you.”

  “Just tell me they’re both alive. I can deal with anything else.”

  The doctor hesitated and glanced up as Pastor Sosa entered.

  “Oh no!” Boone said, no longer able to stifle the sobs. “Are they gone?”

  “Your son has died, Mr. Drake,” the doctor said. “Your wife is in grave condition.”

  “Not Josh! Not Josh! No! I need to see Nikki.”

  Both the pastor and Jack Keller reached for Boone.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Dr. Sarangan said. “It will be at least an hour before you are able to see her. I guarantee I will get you in there as soon as humanly possible. I need to tell you, she does not know about your son.”

  Boone looked desperately to Pastor Sosa. “I have to tell her?”

  The doctor said, “She is in no condition for that kind of news. We’ll have to play it by ear, see if she can be stabilized.”

  Boone turned to his partner. “I’ve got to know what happened at home. Can you find out?”

  “Right now,” Keller said, his eyes red. And as he left, he nodded at Pastor Sosa to join him in the hall.

  Boone drew a deep, quavery breath and forced himself to speak clearly. “Doctor, tell me how bad it is.”

  “I want to do that, if you’re sure you’re ready. Would you rather wait for Pastor S—”

  “No, I need to know. Tell me.”

  Dr. Sarangan flipped through a couple of pages on his clipboard. “Sir—”

  “Boone.”

  “Boone, I need to tell you frankly that I am stalling because there is something I prefer to tell you in front of our pastor.”

  “You said she was alive!”

  “She is. Now please, just give him a few moments, and I will tell you everything.”

  “But it’s bad, isn’t it?”

  The doctor nodded. “It’s bad.”

  “We’ll get through this,” Boone whispered. “But I don’t think I can tell her about Josh. Can I see him?”

  “No.”

  “No? You’re going to keep me from—”

  “Boone, I am so sorry, but you must trust me on this. You would not want to see him. You would recognize nothing of him.”

  Boone laid his head on the table and wept. He looked up when he heard the door, and Pastor Sosa came in with a can of soda for him. Boone drank it in one shot.

  “Okay, he’s here, so talk to me.”

  Sosa sat next to Boone, a hand on his shoulder. The doctor spoke softly to the pastor first. “I told him I wanted you here for this because I realize it is unconventional counsel coming from a Christian.”

  He set the clipboard aside and spoke softly, directly to Boone. “I believe in the sanctity of life. I am pro-life, antiabortion, anti-euthanasia, everything you can imagine from a doctor like myself. But, sir, I must tell you that if I were in your shoes—and I say this with all the compassion in my heart—I would pray that my wife did not survive her injuries.”

  “What?”

  “Please hear me out. The medical team working on her even as we speak, to a person, has never seen a worse burn case. The only part of her body not virtually destroyed is her upper torso and chest, where she pressed your son to herself. I don’t know how much you know about how burns are rated, but your wife suffered what we call fourth-degree, full thickness burns over every exposed surface of her body, reaching to her fascia, muscle, and even bone.”

  “But she’s alive.”

  “She is barely alive, Boone. But I confess it would not surprise me to hear any moment that she has expired.”

  “Then why can’t I see her?”

  “An entire team is doing everything they can, sir. If by some miracle she would survive even twenty-four hours, at the very least her extremities would have to be amputated, possibly even all four entire limbs. Her spinal cord is exposed, her hair and scalp are gone, her face was burned off. If God should choose to spare her, she would need constant care, and there would be virtually no quality of life as we know it.”

  “Can she see? speak?”

  “She has lost her eyes, Boone. There is some chance that what they are doing now to her throat and larynx would allow you to understand her, if she were lucid. As you can imagine, she is so heavily sedated that communication would be impossible for quite a while. She would not likely be aware you were even there, and of course you would not be able to touch her.”

  “I just want to be with her before she dies. She’s going to die soon, isn’t she?”

  “That’s likely. Now unless you have any other questions, let me go and check on her, and I’ll make sure you know as soon as you can see her.”

  As the doctor left, Keller returned. “I talked to CFD. I’ll tell you what they told me, as much as you want to know.”

  “I want it all, Jack.”

  Keller looked to the pastor, who shrugged. “It’s up to Boone.”

  “Are you sure, buddy?” Keller said. “It’s not pretty.”

  “I’m about to lose my whole family. I have to know why.”

  Keller peeked at his notebook. “The garage will have to be rebuilt, but they were able to save the house. . . .”

  “I don’t care about the stinkin’ house. I couldn’t live there anyway. What do they think happened?”

  “They have a pretty good account, actually, because of an old lady next door.”

  “Mrs. Gustavson?”

  “That’s the name. She says Nikki brought Josh home from the pool in the stroller and he was fast asleep. They chatted for a few minutes, and Nikki told her she was going to take him inside and put him down and then mow the lawn. She says Nikki said something about hoping the mower wouldn’t wake him.

  “Several minutes later, Nikki had the mower out and was having trouble starting it. She went into the garage for a can of gas, but when she went to fill the tank, she said it was already full. She found some switch that had to be flipped to start the thing.”

  “The gas line release,” Boone said.

  “Anyway, she put the can back inside the garage and started mowing. This woman, Gustavson, says it wasn’t five minutes later that she heard this horrible blast and the whole garage looked like a ball of orange, flames shooting out the utility door.”

  “How’d it get to Josh?”

  “Listen, Mrs. Gustavson said she stood up from her gardening and caught Nikki’s eye. As soon as Nikki let go of that mower—it must have an automatic shutoff—”

  “It does.”

  “—they heard screaming from the garage over the roar of the flames. She said Nikki didn’t even hesitate. She ran right into that fire, Boone. And then Mrs. Gustavson heard both of them screaming. She sai
d Nikki was in there so long that she never expected to see either of them again. She was about to run in her house and call 911 when Nikki finally came staggering out of there with Josh in her arms.”

  Boone covered his mouth and the sobs began anew.

  “That enough for now?”

  Boone shook his head and took his hand away. “Go on.”

  “Mrs. Gustavson says Nikki and Josh were completely engulfed in flames. Nikki dropped and rolled on the grass, but it was doing no good. The woman hooked up her garden hose. She feels so bad, Boone. She says it took her way longer than it should have because she was shaking and crying and trying so hard to hurry. She dragged that hose through her hedges and into your yard and sprayed water on them until the fire went out. But she says Nikki had stopped rolling and was unconscious before she even got to them. Other neighbors came running and CFD was there in minutes. The EMTs determined that Josh was gone, but they didn’t dare try to separate him from Nikki till they got to the hospital. It was all they could do to keep her alive.”

  Boone buried his face in his hands. “Tell me I’m going to wake up soon.”

  4

  The Good-bye

  Pastor Sosa draped an arm around Boone. “Father,” he said, his own voice thick and shaky, “we hate this. We don’t understand it. We wish we could go back to before it happened. But we also believe you’re sovereign. All we can do is trust you and beg you to help us endure.”

  Beyond horror and grief, rage began to roil in Boone. What had he ever done to deserve this? He so desperately wanted to see Nikki and try to communicate something to her, anything. But he was also still thoroughly confused.

  “CFD still investigating?” he said.

  Keller nodded. “Yeah. From what they can piece together, Josh must have gotten to the gas can in the garage and tipped it over, and the gas ran under the water heater closet door. The fumes would have been ignited by the pilot light.”

  Boone sat shaking his head.

  “But wasn’t the baby down for his nap?” Keller said. “Isn’t he still in a crib?”