by Alan Janney
Tank and I were still playing each other to a stalemate. He was used to racking up multiple sacks but he hadn’t got one yet. I was accustomed to piling up multiple touchdowns but I hadn’t scored one yet. The clock slowly ran down on the defensive struggle, both sides punting over and over. The Dragons punted one final time and we got the ball back with a minute left.
“This is our last chance,” I said using shallow breaths. “We got this. No field goal, just a touchdown. Our whole season is resting on this drive.”
Tank made the mistake of lining up across from Cory, whom he’d been avoiding most of the game. Cory was the only player close to Tank’s level, and he took advantage of this opportunity to block a surprised Tank. He pushed Tank straight out of the play. The extra seconds I had to scan the field seemed like an eternity and I rifled the ball to Jon Mayweather for a twenty-four yard completion. My face paled with the effort.
Fifty seconds left. We ran a toss away from Tank and Jesse dashed for another nine yards down to the Dragon’s forty-two yard line. We needed forty-two more yards to score a touchdown. Forty-two yards to win the District Championship. Forty-two yards and forty seconds to beat Tank.
Coach Garrett called an option play but I pitched it to Jesse immediately, knowing my body couldn’t handle it. He burst through for a first down, and we spiked the ball to stop the clock. The crowd’s roar was seismic, close to causing an earthquake. Twenty-eight seconds.
Two more painful passing plays, two more first downs. Tank bayed helplessly as I got rid of the ball each time. Coach Garrett called our final timeout with seven seconds left. We were on the nineteen yard line. He grabbed my facemask and shouted at me to be heard over the raucous fans. “I don’t think we’ll have time for two plays. Let’s plan on this being the final play of the game.”
“Yes sir.”
“The big guy will try to maim you. He’s not going to give you time. So watch where he lines up, and then bootleg away from him. Try to get the ball to Jon, our biggest receiver. He’ll go up and get it. Got it?”
I relayed the information to the huddle while the band finished blaring the Imperial March. The Dragons heaved restlessly across from us and the stadium rocked. I shot a short glance into the stands, looking for Dad and Katie before I remembered her absence.
“Super thirteen,” I shouted to the line when I spotted Tank on the right side. I crouched under center and Tank roved into a new spot on the left side. “Eleven, super eleven!” I changed the direction. “Hut!”
Tank swam around the blockers and came straight up the middle. I had less than a second before he’d drill me, so I broke away and sprinted right. He followed in hot pursuit, growling and snapping. I couldn’t throw the ball like this. I couldn’t even see the end zone! I needed space.
I spun to the right and reversed direction. My body shuddered from the supreme effort but it held together.
Tank tried to follow my evasive maneuver. He planted his damaged left foot. Snap! I heard it break! The injured bone was not healthy enough to handle the shift of his immense bulk. He collapsed with a howl. Tank was done. Out of the game.
Suddenly I had a clear throwing lane. I had a receiver. Jon was open. Time ran out on the clock. This would be the final throw.
I called upon every remaining resource I possessed and I heaved the ball. As I did, something inside of me let go, some tenuous muscle connection that had been barely holding on finally released.
The ball came out wrong. The spiral didn’t cut the air and I’d been forced to run too far away, and the distance had grown too great. The trajectory held true but without enough driving force. Jon Mayweather saw the wobbly pass and came back to get it. Too late!
A defender cut in front of him. It was a jump ball. The Dragon reached up, way up, and at the apex of his leap he reached higher still. The tips of his fingers fastened tight to the underside of the football.
Interception. I doubled over in pain and disappointment. So did everyone in the stadium. Game over.
We lost. I lost.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Friday night, November 1. 2017
Dr. Wilburn took one look at my stomach and chest before informing Coach Garrett that I needed to be hospitalized and that he was taking me personally in his car. The sight of my injuries was jarring enough to make my teammates temporarily forget their despair. Some even took pictures with their phones. The physician helped me into his luxury sedan and I used my phone to leave semi-coherent messages for Dad and Hannah.
Two hours later I drifted into and out of a heavily medicated wakefulness in a bed on the fifth floor of Glendale Memorial. Dr. Wilburn, Hannah, and Dad sat with me in the quiet Friday night hospital, waiting for news. After the previous chaotic and painful twenty-fours, the hospital room seemed like an oasis of peace. I felt great. Relaxed, sleepy, and content.
I had been examined and prodded and x-rayed, but no one ever questioned the source of my injuries. It was accepted that they were the result of a football game, and though I wasn’t prepared to lie no one actually asked me to specify the origin of the wounds. Besides, I couldn’t have pinpointed which injuries came from where anyway.
Dr. Patterson came in to talk with us.
I tried to focus. “Well, Chase Jackson, that must have been a heck of a football game. We’ll get a complete diagnosis after swelling has decreased, but we can begin treatment immediately on the injuries we’ve conclusively identified so far. The trauma you’ve undergone is similar to that of a car wreck. Obviously you sustained multiple contusions to your thorax. Over half of your ribs are fractured, including three complete fractures. Your left lung is punctured,” he said, and with each pronouncement he pointed at a place on my chest. “We’ll know more after an MRI, but we’re fairly positive it hasn’t collapsed. Your spleen is lacerated, but with proper medication we should be able to prevent a rupture. Again, we’ll run more tests once you’re more comfortable and the swelling has subsided, but I’m a little worried about your left kidney too.”
“Will the spleen require surgery?” Dr. Wilburn asked.
“That depends on the extent of the laceration. I hesitate to make a prediction at this point,” he said.
“His blood pressure is still high,” Dr. Wilburn announced, looking at a machine behind me.
“That worries me too,” the other doctor agreed. “Plus, his adrenaline and testosterone levels are off the chart. Very odd. Something is causing his body to over produce certain hormones. Chase, have you been suffering from jitteriness, fevers, headaches or nausea?”
Yes! I tried to answer but couldn’t. His words had begun to blend. I’d used up all my concentration and, even though he gestured to different parts of my body and carefully explained things, I couldn’t follow him anymore. Despite my lack of clarity, but possibly on account of the drugs, I was warm. The people in the room cared. About me.
I awoke without a memory of falling asleep. The lights had been extinguished except for a swivel lamp over the machine monitoring my pulse and the intravenous medicine. There was no sign of my family. Dr. Wilburn had departed too. I couldn’t see a clock. The hospital door stood partially ajar and soft murmurs wafted to my ears from without. I experienced only a distant and abstract pain.
The television was on mute, but it displayed a news program providing further coverage of what it labeled ‘The Clash of the Titans!’ The subheading was ‘A True Superhuman Battle?’
Was I a superhuman? I hoped the specialists and superhuman professionals would figure that question out soon so they could explain it to me. Just thinking about that night make me feel uncomfortable in my skin. Had I been bitten by a radioactive spider or something?
Hannah lay in the bed with me. She had been perfect, more than I could wish for, more than I deserved. If not for my inability to extinguish my affection for Katie, I would be completely happy.
I laid my cheek on top of her head. In response, she stirred and sighed.
“Are you awake?”
she whispered softly.
“You’re still here,” I said.
“Always.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“About midnight,” she yawned into her hand.
“Where’d Dad go?”
“Home. He was tired, but I wanted to stay with you. Dr. Wilburn left too. The doctors are going to let you rest until the morning.”
“Good,” I said.
“Good.”
“We lost,” I remembered out loud.
“What?”
“The football game. Patrick Henry beat us. We prepared for that game all season.”
She patted me softly and said, “You played really well, though. We only lost by four points. Patrick Henry beat everyone else by thirty. I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Yes. My father is too.”
“Your father? Wow,” I said. “How do you know?”
“He came by a few minutes ago. He watched the game, plus he’s on the Board of Trustees at this hospital,” she said, and she rubbed at some speck of dirt on my cheek I couldn’t see.
“Oh that’s right. I forgot about that.”
“He said he’d make sure the hospital charges every penny of your hospital stay to the football team’s insurance.”
“Really? That’s great,” I smiled, and it really was. I’d been wondering how this hospital visit would be paid for.
“And there’s more,” she smiled her famous smile.
“What? Why are you smiling?” I laughed, but it sounded more like a wheeze.
“I told him about your father’s car accident, and about the ongoing physical therapy.”
“Oh?”
“Each month, the hospital does some medical treatments for free. Pro bono. Daddy’s going to make sure your dad’s visit gets completely paid for by that pro bono fund.”
“You’re kidding,” I whispered, unable to believe it.
“No,” she laughed. “I’m not. There will be no bill. Plus he said he’ll get the best doctors.”
“Wow,” I said, and I could feel the stress draining out of my body. My family would survive financially. Dad would be okay. My smile was so big it might crack my face. “Just… wow. I can’t wait to meet your dad. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me, thank yourself. You’re the one that impressed him.”
“So, wait. Is he offering to do this because you and I are dating? Or because I play football?”
She shrugged and rested her head on my shoulder again. “Does it matter?”
“Is it legal for him to do this?”
“Chase,” she said. “Stop worrying. Do you want to hear something weird?”
“Sure.”
“While you were out, a strange man came in. I’ve never seen anyone like him. Like an old army sergeant, or something. Totally bald. He stared at you a long time.”
“What did he want?” I asked.
“I don’t know! He looked at your chart, stared at you some more, and then he said the weirdest thing.”
“What?”
“He said not to worry about you. That you’d be fine. That pretty much nothing could kill you. And then he walked out.” She shook her head at the absurdity.
Knock, knock. Someone rapped on our door.
“Come in,” Hannah called. An angel walked in. Katie. My Katie. “Katie Lopez? Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” Hannah asked and she got out of bed. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t move. I examined her closely. The last time I’d seen her she was unconscious and unresponsive. She appeared pale, but that didn’t tell me much. I wanted to ask her a million questions.
“Good Samaritan Hospital transferred me here this morning,” she answered and she accepted Hannah’s brief hug. “The doctors haven’t let me go home yet. And the police are being super nosey.”
“Oh right,” Hannah said, wincing in embarrassment. “Of course, the kidnapping. Sorry, I’d forgotten all about it after Chase got hurt.”
“Someone told Mom that you were here. I rushed down,” Katie said, coming to the side of my bed. She looked too pretty to be in a hospital. I ached to hug her. “What happened?”
“The football game was really rough,” Hannah answered and she climbed back in bed beside me. That was the position Katie usually took when I was sick. “The Patrick Henry Dragons kept hitting him after the plays were over.”
“Poor Chase,” she said and held my hand. “I’m glad I didn’t have to watch that.”
“How are you?” I asked, but my voice came out as a dry scrape. I couldn’t remember the last time I had something to drink. Katie must have noticed because she held up a water cup with a straw to my lips.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I truly am. I remember nothing. I can remember leaving our Young Life Club. And then nothing, until I woke up in the hospital. Completely blank.”
“Amazing,” Hannah said. “Probably for the best.”
“You don’t remember anything about your kidnapper?” I asked searchingly. “Or your rescuer?”
“One of the doctors told me that type of chemical compound causes short-term amnesia. Memories might eventually come back,” she shrugged and she blushed a deep crimson. “I’ve seen the news. I wish I’d been awake for the Outlaw! But I wasn’t. I don’t remember. No lights, no sounds, no voices, nothing.”
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“No. Not a scratch. And I wasn’t…molested. Whoever that guy was just tied me up and forgot about me. The police asked me hundreds of questions. I think they’re really embarrassed they can’t catch the kidnapper. Or the Outlaw. They’re obsessed with him.”
“With the Outlaw? Why?” I asked.
She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. But at least they finally know I wasn't joking about the text message harassment.”
Knock, knock. Someone else rapped on the door.
“Come in,” Hannah called.
Natalie North walked in. At first, this seemed merely like a nice surprise. But then the stunning implications hit me. My mask wasn’t on! I was in the hospital as Chase Jackson, not the Outlaw. Why would she be here visiting Chase Jackson??
“Hi,” she said shyly, looking between the three of us. “Is this…Chase Jackson’s room?” She was wearing a baseball cap and an over-the-shoulder bag. She looked our age.
I didn’t dare speak. No one noticed, thankfully, but my heart monitor sped up. Hannah and Katie seemed stunned too, but finally Hannah said, “Y-yes. This is Chase’s room. Are you…Natalie North?”
“Yes,” she said, looking relieved to be in the right room. She did a double take at the three of us and said, “My goodness, you three are gorgeous. Are you the cast of some television show I don’t know about?”
“That’s crazy,” Hannah smiled. “You’re Natalie North.”
“Seriously, for real,” Katie gushed. “You’re like the prettiest person on earth. I love your movies!”
“Thank you very much,” she laughed. “You must be Katie Lopez?”
“Yes,” she responded, her eyes widening even further. “How’d you know that?”
“I just accidentally woke your mother up,” she admitted sheepishly. “I came looking for you in your hospital room, and she informed me that you were visiting your friend on this floor. I’m sorry to disrupt your party, and I know it’s terribly late. This is just the first chance I had to get away.”
“You came here to visit me?” Katie asked.
“I did,” Natalie nodded.
“Why?”
“To give you a hug,” she said, and she pulled a star-struck Katie into an embrace. “What you went through had to be so scary.”
“Oh,” Katie said, and she hugged her harder. She appeared to be stuck in a permanent state of shock. “Oh! You’re so nice.”
“Plus, did you know that the rooftop where the Outlaw discovered you is the top to my apartment building?” Natalie asked, holding Katie’s hands. If I had any energy or ability to move my arms, I wo
uld have hidden under the blankets. These three girls being in the same room was about to give me a heart attack, I was so stressed.
“I did not know that!”
“Isn’t that a bizarre happenstance? You were rescued on the building where the Outlaw and I usually meet,” Natalie said.
“That is quite a coincidence,” Hannah nodded.
“Can it actually be a coincidence?” Natalie asked the three of us. “But I know of no other explanation. You don’t happen to know his secret identity…do you?”
Katie sighed, “No. I wish. He’s so amazing.”
“He certainly is,” Natalie agreed. I caught Hannah rolling her eyes. “Did you know he doesn’t wear armor under his outfit? It’s all muscle.”
“So…are you two…dating? You and the Outlaw?” Katie quizzed her. “I shouldn’t pry. I actually saw Conan ask you this very question.”
Natalie laughed, “I don’t mind. I honestly have no idea who the Outlaw actually is, so it can’t be considered a true relationship. But to the extent the Outlaw really exists, I’d say I consider him my boyfriend,” she replied, and now it was her turn to blush. “That is ridiculous to admit out loud. But I simply can’t think about anyone else romantically since I met him.”
“That’s so sweet,” Katie sighed, and Hannah fidgeted beside me. I wondered if she was as uncomfortable with this as I was.
“I figured I would visit you because in a way we’re sisters. We’ve both been pulled out of awful situations by the same guy,” Natalie smiled.
“You’re too wonderful,” Katie said, and they hugged again.
Knock, knock. Someone else rapped their knuckles against the door.
“Come in,” Hannah called again, exasperated.
Tank. Tank Ware walked in.
I couldn’t breathe. My whole body tensed. There could be no mistaking him, his muscled girth filled the doorway and his eyes latched on to me. No one spoke. No one moved. I tried to sit up. Nothing in my body responded.
“Chase Jackson,” he said and his voice vibrated the bed.