The two guards at my back jerked me to my feet and turned me the way I came.
I made a show pulling myself free from their grip. I glared at Katsaros and Frost and turned to leave.
*******
I walked around The Upper City for what seemed like hours trying to clear my head and absorb the events of the last four hours. Lenny Marquez was dead for being the victim of the sex trade. Tommy Henson was dead for being in the room with her at the time.
It seemed like another lifetime when I was going to kick in their door, take the video and barter for her life. It was a different universe, a universe before black became white and white black. I felt like such an ass for believing that I could outfox Katsaros. Now, a girl was dead. Her blood was on my hands.
Worse, I couldn’t even think of touching Katsaros, not without compromising Maddy. I wanted to march up to his terrace, kick the in his door and put a ten mil round right in his head—even better in his crotch—but Maddy would be on the street, and some other narcissistic asshole would take Katsaros’ place like he’d never been there at all.
No, there was nothing to do, but serve the master and bide my time… for now.
I got tired of walking and descended to The Lower City. I pulled Jupiter out of the locker and tucked him into the back of my waistband. I walked to my apartment building and climbed the stairs. I wasn’t worried about The Lunatics.
They didn’t have a lock on Maddy, therefore I was safe. I was kind of hoping they’d take their chances. I could use a healthy vent for my current feelings.
I climbed to my floor, moved to the door, and slipped the key into the lock. I pushed it open. I reached for the light and drew a musky breath of man sweat. My brain raced. Something was wrong.
Everything moved in slow motion. My hand found the switch, but the room stayed dark. I heard a pop from inside, like an elbow or knee from the darkness. I put my shoulder into the door and dove inside. The flash and bang filled the tiny flat, hurting my ears and wreaking havoc on my eyes. The doorjamb where I’d just stood splintered on both sides of the threshold: a scatter gun.
I pulled Jupiter up to sight my target, as if I could aim in the dark. I blasted away at the space I thought my attacker should be filling. My rounds clapped into empty drywall. I rolled to the edge of the couch and tried to still my breathing, to feel the presence of my attacker.
My eye were adjusting. I saw motion, a black blur against a black background. I turned and blasted that way. His next rounds were conventional. They splintered my couch and I felt a sting in my left arm as a round punched through my skin and ricocheted off my bone. My eye was cut and I could feel blood pouring down my face. I dove to my right, and slid across the living room floor.
I knew he must have light enhancers. He was going to get me before I could get him at this rate. I had to take a chance. I knew he was in the kitchen, which was a dead end. There were few maneuvering options.
I tried to grip Jupiter with both hands, but my left arm didn’t want to cooperate. I pulled the trigger and sent ten gauge buckshot towards the doorway. The recoil almost ripped Jupiter from my grip. My arm screamed at the recoil-induced stress.
I grunted in pain and pushed to my feet. A simple selector switch brought me back to ten mil rounds. I tried to pin the bastard in the kitchen just long enough to reach the doorway. I could feel his gun peering at me through the darkness. I waited for that one bright shotgun blast to light my way into the Nether World, but it didn’t come. I was close enough.
I leapt with all my strength. I scraped the ceiling and reached with my right hand, driven more by instinct and muscle memory than sensory perception. I felt the gun-wielding hand brush the switch. The light was bright to my maladjusted eyes. It was blinding to his light-enhanced eyes, if only for the moment.
I crashed into the floor. My left arm and shoulder screamed. I rolled, putting my feet in his crotch. He flew from his feet and crashed back into the sink. He was short and stocky and was thick with body armor. I could see a pistol on the floor next to him. It must’ve been the one he used to tap my arm. His shotgun whirled aimless in his right hand. It discharged in his hand and obliterated the kitchen light.
I held Jupiter with my right hand and fired several blind shots into the darkness before me. I was trying to scooch back and away as I did this, but that last blow had rendered my left arm useless. It’s amazing how hard it is to have any purposeful movement with a broken arm screaming in agony. I struggled to shift my weight.
A flash of light and a roar of thunder replied. He’d saved the second barrel for me. I felt the sting of pellets pepper the left side of my torso and arm. I reeled and fell flat on my back. I rotated onto my right side and crawled away with my gun-toting right hand. My left arm and chest were screaming in agony.
The progress was slow. My body was in torment. It was dying.
There was movement in the kitchen, shuffling and a crash. I might not be the only mortally wounded person in the house. The thought gave me some vindictive satisfaction. I rolled onto my back and pumped my last two rounds into the kitchen.
I wasn’t worried about hitting him. I wasn’t worried about covering fire, either. “I’m still alive, you son-of-a-bitch! Come back here to finish me, if you have the balls!”
I’d be dead even sooner if he had the balls. I was out of ammo, and my useless left arm was really going to hinder reloading. I finished scooting into the bedroom. My breath was getting short. My life was slipping away. I tried to kick the door shut behind me.
Something must’ve been in the way. It didn’t latch. I slither-crawled to the far side of the bed. No one burst in to put one last round in my head before leaving. Maybe the crash in the kitchen was from the attacker collapsing in a heap of dead flesh. One could dream.
I made it to the far end of the bed and realized: the reloads were in my bag. The same bag I dropped when I dove into the apartment. I was defenseless. I rested my head on the nightstand.
The crash of shattering glass came from the living room. I thought for a moment that my attacker had taken another tumble, but the whoosh that followed on its heels stoked a primal fear that went back to Humanity’s days of swinging from trees three hundred and eighty-five thousand kilometers away.
An orange glow flickered through the open bedroom door. Terror seized my soul. I thought for a moment that I could jump up, and run but my body ached and my left arm was dangling. I bumbled to my feet.
It was a slow, graceless maneuver. I could smell the smoke. The intensity of the glow from the living room had doubled. I could see the haze clinging to the ceiling. I knew I was going to die, but not like this! I thought of Jupiter and the blissful oblivion a single bullet from his muzzle could grant me.
But, without bullets, he was little more than a paperweight. I stumbled to the door and tried to close it. There was a shoe in the way. I toppled to my knees and shoved the shoe clear. The heat was searing. Thick, choking smoke was filling my room. I closed the door, but the glow of multiple ten-millimeter holes told me it was a useless gesture.
I stumbled back to my feet, but I was getting dizzy from loss of blood. Worse, it was already hard to breathe from the shotgun pellets in my lung, and the smoke was poisoning the little air I could take in. I gave a weak tug on the mattress, but it was for naught. It might as well have been made of lead or gold: I could do nothing with it. I toppled to the bed, my brain barely aware of the pain the fall caused. I rolled off to put it between me and a fiery death. I slumped into the corner and hoped that the bleeding inside my broken body would carry me to the finish line before the flames melted the skin from my bones. I wasn’t optimistic.
The heat came. I could feel it, but in a distant, dream-like way. I didn’t have enough left to process it. I’d have been grateful, but that also required more thought than my brain could manage. I was fading in and out of consciousness when I heard a faraway
whoosh. Blackness returned but it was interrupted by a weird two-toned hissing. I had the sensation of being lifted and carried.
No, I was being dragged. Yes, dragged. I bumped into something. The left side of my body raged against the stupor I was in. I was bumped again and again. I couldn’t see anything. It was all black.
I regained a semblance of consciousness. There was a new pain in my left side, one that made the pain of shotgun pellets feel like bee stings. It was easier to breathe and I could see the chaos of blue-clad rescuers swarming all around me. They were led by a young blonde girl. She had pasty skin and made me think of an angel. She was telling me to go to sleep, that she was going to help me breathe…
CHAPTER XVII
“… doing the best we can…very difficult to know…”
I could feel a hand in mine, squeezing. A voice, a female voice, telling me it was going to be ok.
“... holding his own… amazed he’s still alive… really beyond our power…”
More hand holding. I could feel a hand stroking my forehead, running through my hair. I wanted to open my eyes, to look at this person and smile….
“He’s getting stronger,” I heard the voice say. “He’s not out of danger, but I don’t think he’s come this far to go back down. There’s really no way to know for sure.”
I could feel the hand again. It was holding mine, and I wanted to hold it back, to let her know that I was ok. I concentrated with all of the mental energy I could muster to tell my hand to—squeeze.
“Oh my God!” It was the woman’s voice, again. It was familiar and happy, but I couldn’t make it out… too much effort to squeeze my hand.
The darkness receded sometime after that. I awoke to the face of Suzanne. I tried to remember how I’d gotten here. Had I been dreaming? I thought she had been mad at me. It was really hard to put everything together.
She looked a mess, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her eyes were bloodshot. Deep blue-black circles underlined them. Her hair was unkempt. It had been wrangled by a head band. She wore no makeup and looked the worse for it.
Still, she was beautiful. I tried to speak, but it came out a hoarse squeak.
She giggled. “The great Frank Parker speechless! Will wonders never cease?”
I could feel myself smiling, but I wouldn’t have bet with much energy.
“Here,” she held a straw to my mouth.
It tasted rancid. I was tasting the inside of my mouth. “Thanks.”
She smiled and looked at me with eyes she hadn’t in years. It had only taken putting me on my death bed.
I tried to talk, but it was a real effort. My throat was scratchy and sore. “Maddy?”
“She’s not here. I told her I’d come get her if you… when you started feeling better.”
I looked around the room. I was attached to all kinds of machines and monitors. Tubes were stuck in places I didn’t think they could put tubes. My body was stiff and ached. I tried to shift my weight. It took all I had to move just a centimeter. “Tell Maddy I love her.”
*******
I felt like I’d slept for a week when I awoke the next time.
Suzanne was still there. Her clothes were clean and wrinkle-free. Makeup enhanced her natural good looks and hid most of the circles. She might also have gotten some rest to help on that front.
I smiled again, this time with more energy. “Hi.”
She smiled. “Hey.”
“Thanks for being here.”
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Where else would I be?”
I thought about that afternoon she’d taunted me about Rick’s death, the day she moved out. “I thought you might be throwing a party.”
Her smile fell. “I admit I was mad.”
I didn’t want to make things worse, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Dana Cooper called me,” she said.
Dana!
“When she called, I told her I didn’t give—well, I—I wasn’t very nice.” Her smile was self-conscious. “But, when the hospital called and told me you wouldn’t live through the night, I came down.”
I furled my brow.
“You’re my husband. I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying alone on my watch.”
I nodded.
“But, as I sat here thinking about us, thinking about everything, I know I’m not the easiest person to live with.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s my fault. I put so much…” I had to stop to rest my voice. “I put too much in front of us, in front of you. You should have been my priority.”
“Ok,” said a voice from the doorway behind Suze. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am. Time for Mr. Parker’s sponge bath.”
I frowned and looked at Suzanne.
She reached out and touched my shoulder.
“Can’t she give me the sponge bath?”
The nurse gave me a don’t-you-wish look. “You kidding? As long as this one’s been at your side, you two’d be liable to break something we’ve already fixed up. You need to save your strength for healing. There’ll be plenty of time for playing later.”
I smiled at Suzanne.
Suzanne smiled at me.
Yeah, there just might.
*******
It was a week before Suzanne could wheel me around the hospital. I was grateful to get out of that godforsaken room. There was an observation room in the northwest corner of the floor. It looked out at The Olympian. I could see Earth hovering above Tycho City through the transparent lid that kept our atmosphere from blowing away.
It was a bright blue sliver in the sky. I couldn’t even make out any land masses. It would have been a prettier view had the Earth been full, but it still beat the hell out of the four walls I’d been confined to in the last week.
“How’re you feeling?”
I felt terrible. “Good.”
“The doctor says it’s a miracle that you survived.”
I remembered thinking that shotgun blast had been mortal. I recalled the crash of glass, the whoosh of the fire and shivered.
“She says your arm is healing nicely.”
I wiggled my fingers. The bone in the upper part of my left arm had been cracked. It had been put in a cast and lashed to my body. The cast deluged my arm with ultrasonic pulses at scheduled intervals. It was supposed to come off next week.
It had been the least of my worries. My lung had been punctured and my aorta nicked: a couple of centimeters to the right and I wouldn’t have lived long enough to worry about the fire. It had taken all of the skill and technology of Tycho Medical Center to save my life. Thank God for modern medicine.
“Thanks for coming out to see me,” I said. “No one else has bothered.”
I thought of Dana Cooper.
“Sure.” She smiled, and we enjoyed the view in silence. Her hand on my unhurt shoulder. It was a great moment.
She wheeled me back to my room and helped me into bed. “You get your rest. I’ll see if Maddy wants to come tomorrow, K?”
I smiled. “K.”
*******
“Daddy!” Her embrace caused a ripple of pain through my body.
I let go an involuntary grunt and squeezed her with my good arm.
She beamed down at me. “I’ve asked Mom to let me come see you every day, but she kept saying, ‘just one more day’. I thought I was never going to get to see you!”
I smiled and looked at Suzanne in the doorway. She leaned against the jamb. Her arms were crossed. She didn’t smile.
“I’m so glad to see you, hon,” I said to Maddy. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”
She hugged me again and plopped into my bed. “You wanna go to the observation room?”
“Do I? Just try and stop me!”
I climbed out of bed and
into the wheelchair. Maddy pushed me down the hallway. She was chatting in fast, happy phrases with barely a breath between.
Her mother gave us some time to ourselves.
Her voice filled me with joy. I closed my eyes and listened. It had been so long since she had talked to me like that.
I looked at her beautiful face and listened to her pretty voice tell me all about every little detail of her life the way only a teenaged girl can. The hours slipped by like minutes, and it was time to go back far too soon.
“It’s ok,” said Maddy when I said so. “We can do this tomorrow, and the day after and the day after and the day after that until you’re able to come home with us.”
I really liked the sound of that. “That would be awesome, babe.”
She pushed me back to the room. I climbed back into bed and absorbed another of her crushing bear hugs.
“I love you, Daddy!”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
She was smiling.
I was smiling.
“Why don’t you wait for me upstairs, babe? I need to talk to your daddy.” Suzanne wasn’t smiling.
Maddy’s smile took on a forced quality. “Sure, Mom.”
She kissed me again and turned to leave.
I looked at Suzanne and tried to read her demeanor. I saw nothing good there.
Suzanne walked across the room and stood facing the wall. Something was wrong.
She turned to look at me. There were unshed tears in her eyes. “Who’s Allyssa Ramacci?”
Oh, no! I didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t need me to voice a response.
“You’ve been fucking her. Haven’t you, Frank?”
Her words hit with the force of a fist. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.
“I asked you a question, Frank! I want an answer.” She threw a card at me. “This arrived at the hospital, today.”
The tiny envelope bounced off my chest and landed on my lap. I picked it up and looked at it. To my Dearest Frank.
I frowned and looked up at Suzanne. The tears were streaming, now.
I looked back at the envelope and slipped the card from within. Sorry you’re all banged up. Hope you get better soon. A red lipstick kiss punctuated the broad strokes of her signature.
Lunatic City Page 19