by E. C. Marsh
I didn't know what to think, let alone what to do. Just a few short hours ago, this Ron had threatened us, and I knew Brooks was also involved. Now they were here before me, helpless vegetables.
I grabbed the phone in the utility room and called home. Tom's voice sounded sleepy, but not for long. When I finished my story, all he could say was:
“Wow!”
*
Ron heard the hissing of the ventilator and thought he felt his lungs fill with air. He was angry that the doctor had acted so fast and had not given him time to think, time to make his own decision. At the lowest edge of his field of vision he could see the tube that helped him breathe, and above him an ugly brownish water stain. Was this the same stain he saw earlier, or had they moved him? What had that doctor told him? Broken bones in his neck? Damaged spinal cord?
Oh my God! He thought. I'm paralyzed. He frantically tried to move his hands, arms, shoulders, anything. Nothing happened. He could blink his eyes, nothing more. He stared at the ceiling stain.
Shit! He thought. I'll spend the rest of my life this way!
He had trouble staying focused and caught himself drifting off to sleep. In his mind he went back to late summer. He saw himself dousing Sandy's truck with gasoline as she hung suspended by her seat belt in the upside-down cab of her truck. He heard her voice begging him to cut the seat belt, begging him to help. He felt the rush, the incredible feeling of power that came over him when heard her screams. Then there was nothing, a void, total emptiness.
She was lucky, he thought. She died quickly. I'll spend the rest of my life here, with a fucking tube in my throat and a machine breathing for me while I stare at the damned ceiling and admire the stains.
Tears filled the corners of his eyes and pooled in his ears.
*
It took almost twelve hours to determine the extent of the massive head injuries to Jonathon Brooks. His family chose to have life-support discontinued. Thirty-six hours after the accident, he was dead.
*
Ron remained in ICU for almost two weeks. Then SERPAC arranged to have him transferred to a rehab facility in Virginia. He did not enjoy the journey. While his
companions were able to marvel at the scenery along the way, he was forced to stare at
the ceiling of the ambulance.
There were three brown stains and two yellow ones.
The End