Clouded Rainbow

by Jonathan Sturak

A bolt of lightning ignited the sky as a thunderous boom immediately followed. Roger hiked down a sidewalk toward a cross street. Miles was several paces behind, but fully energized from their near hit with the police. They lost the police car not by speed or stealth, but by the overpowering rain and its ability to conceal everything under its wrath. Roger recognized his location and knew that as he reached the approaching cross street, his journey would end. He battled the howling wind, but saw the street ahead coming closer and closer. Finally, he turned the corner and paused as he saw…it.

  Southern General Hospital towered under the torrential rain. Its red cross shined on the top of the building like the North Star for weary travelers.

  Two figures moved through the blinding rain. They were barely recognizable, like scurrying ants lost in a mound of dirt, but their insignificant presence was still distinguishable. It was Roger and Miles moving toward the tremendous structure.

  The wandering businessman no longer needed to wander, as the end was in front of him. A wall of rain was the only thing standing between him and his wife, an obstacle he was prepared to overcome. As he crossed the street toward the hospital parking lot, a sudden sound overtook the rain. It was the sound of an approaching siren. As his ears filled with the impending force, he realized it was not the noise made by only one siren, but by an army of them. The noise intensified and surfaced in front of him as well.

  “Hey! Wait up!” Miles yelled at his accomplice, who was surging ahead. All at once, Miles’ eyes filled with the sight of red and blue lights spinning from all directions. He watched as Roger did not flinch.

  The enraged police cars spun into the parking lot from all entrances, encroaching on the two men. Roger plowed through an ankle-high puddle of water as he saw the hospital’s entryway emerge thirty yards away.

  Roger’s heart pounded inside his chest. His lungs gasped for oxygen as he pushed himself to the limit. His mind was solely focused on his wife, the woman unjustly torn from him. Three police cars squealed to a stop behind Roger, but it didn’t matter; the last thing he was going to do was look back. Infuriated officers burst from each car armed with nine-millimeters and arteries full of adrenaline.

  “Stop!” yelled one officer, wielding his weapon.

  “Freeze! I said freeze!” screamed an irate female officer.

  The officers eyed Roger’s body through the rain as they covered him from all angles with their water-resistant weapons. Roger, however, did not recoil. He saw the bright lights of the hospital interior only a few more steps away. It looked pure, safe, almost heavenly. Suddenly, two figures emerged through the automated door. They stole the luster from Roger’s view. At first, he thought they were benign, but the glistening object pinned on the skinny one’s chest hurt Roger’s eyes. It was the badge of the city police department. The two patrolmen dispatched to guard Lois headed his way.

  Roger kept moving, but he watched as both men wielded their pistols. In an instant, his mind instinctively instructed his body to cease its drive, to kill its raging motor. As he stopped dead ten feet from the entryway, he realized he had nowhere to turn. His stationary motion caused the rain to change from horizontal to vertical as it covered his body. Roger remained perfectly still, but his eyes took in the reflection on the entryway’s glass. He saw the army of police surrounding him. Roger was terrified to turn around, wishing desperately to make the last several steps to see the love of his life. He wished there were an easy way to explain his predicament and his daunting journey, but there were no words to explain it.

  “Now turn around, slowly!” instructed an officer with his hand resting on his gun’s trigger.

  An odd silence filled the area as the sound of the rain resonated. A crowd gathered. Without warning, bystanders screamed.

  “Hey! Let him go!” Miles exclaimed as he attempted to stick up for his fellow comrade.

  “Down! Get down on the ground!” an officer commanded.

  Miles wavered and dropped to the ground. He tried his best to help, but his best was worthless.

  Roger stood all alone, isolated in his own world. He slowly turned to face his accusers as he witnessed the army following him.

  “This is wrong. This is all wrong,” Roger reasoned.

  “Stay there!” the officer instructed.

  Roger closed his eyes. He removed himself from the cancer and focused on the circle of light in the darkness. He was so close. He wanted to take the last few steps; he needed to. Roger opened his eyes to confront the army, but something that he could never have expected surrounded him. The enraged officers all stood motionless, regressed from pit bulls to beagles. Their guns were lowered; their boisterous voices were silent; their faces were blank like puppets. Roger spun around as everyone simply stopped and stared. Even Miles stood stone-faced. The only movement was the revolving red and blue lights through the pounding rain. It was as if everyone had realized Roger’s journey, his journey into the darkness, and now they would stand in front of him no more.

  Roger walked past the dozen blank officers. He stepped past the two patrolmen at the hospital door, and then entered the castle. Stillness consumed Roger. Nurses stopped and stared. A janitor watched while holding his mop. And even patients still in their gurneys sat up and stared as if Roger were a saint.

  The businessman’s shoes sloshed on the tile as he moved toward the elevator. He neared the reflecting metal doors, and then a ding sounded. The elevator opened as if it too were waiting for Roger. He stepped inside as the lift brought him to the fifth floor, all without Roger doing anything.

  The doors opened. Roger stepped out as a deserted floor greeted him. He saw the lights illuminated down only one of the three hallways. Roger followed the lit path. He passed closed doors on each side and continued through the light. Roger turned the corner, and stopped as he saw the trail leading to the only open room. Even though he had no map, he knew exactly who was inside. Roger staggered down the hall, each step wider and stronger. He sensed the presence of the woman he craved, the woman he loved more than anything. Roger’s breathing shuddered. Tears filled his eyes. Each step brought him even more emotion. And then, he stood in the doorway.

  Roger fought his tears as his pupils adjusted to the soft light inside. Then, he took one more step, the last step into the room. He saw a figure in the bed. Roger crept closer as the sweet scent of his love invigorated him. He neared his wife as her soft, supple skin glistened and massaged his eyes.

  “Lois. I made it,” Roger whispered.

  He inched closer, overwhelmed with emotion. But then, something stole his focus. It was the torrential rain outside the window. A blast of thunder erupted. A bolt of lightning flashed. Roger closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and saw the face of a man covered with rage. Roger spun around and saw an army of police. He realized that he was back outside, back to reality, and gone from his wife’s side.

  Roger took a breath. He had to find a way out. His mind yelled, and then a sudden, enlightening feeling overwhelmed him. He saw a solution to his problem, a solution that he hoped would explain his situation to those around him. Roger reached slowly into his rear pocket. As his arm moved behind him, the officers stood tall and reaffirmed their weapons.

  “Don’t move! Stop!” erupted from the army.

  “Put your hands up! Stop or we’ll shoot!” another exclaimed.

  Roger, however, felt calm. He knew the answer was in his back pocket as he prepared to remove the item that he hoped would explain it all.

  “I just… I just want to see my dynamite,” Roger explained as he reached deep inside him.

  “Dynamite? Bomb! I think he has a bomb!” exploded from the chaotic crowd.

  Their yells and screams frantically filled the area.

  Roger smiled as he began to remove his hand, but then a quick flash and blast filled his senses. At first, he thought it was a jolt of lightning and thunder, but the sudden pain in his chest diverted his focus. He looked down as his smile turned into a look
of terror. The front of his shirt had two small holes. Suddenly, the holes turned deep red, the color of blood. Roger realized the flashes had not been produced by the storm, but instead by the pistols of his aggressors. He had been shot twice in his chest. One bullet was embedded into his right lung as the other had broken heart.

  “Noooo! Holster your weapons!” Det. Cleveland yelled as he ran into the middle of the action.

  He finally reached the man, the man he had grown to understand, the man he had vowed to protect. His arrival, however, was seconds too late. Most people failed to appreciate the significance of a few seconds, but it was a measure of time that fit many facets of life—a sudden sneeze, a stubbed toe, or the moment of death. Det. Cleveland realized that a matter of seconds would haunt him for the rest of his life, as he could do nothing now to help Roger. He could only watch the life leave his beaten body.

  Roger looked out and stared at the nearly one hundred police and bystanders frozen in silence. They stood stock-still; the only motion was that of the rushing raindrops. Roger blinked his eyes rapidly as the pain intensified deep within his chest. It felt like an uncontrolled tractor-trailer had run over his heart. The feeling was so intense that it lacked feeling. He attempted to turn in an effort to complete his journey, but his legs didn’t respond. He realized they no longer worked. Roger fell to the ground on his knees. He looked down at the once light-colored shirt and saw it was now soaked with blood. Roger felt the bullets sucking the life from him, and he knew this was it. As the rain hit him, he recognized that he would never complete his journey, never step into the hospital and reunite with his wife. Roger felt his head bobble and fall forward as his neck muscles died. His breathing slowed. His pupils dilated. His muscles shut down.

  An odd memory surfaced in Roger’s mind. It was of his last conversation with his dying grandfather many years ago. Roger was only twelve at the time, but he could recall that memory as if it were yesterday. His grandfather had said, “As the years go by filled with life, one sometimes assumes his place in this world is infinite. If he took a moment, however, to fathom the number of years the Earth has spun in the infinite universe, he would realize those years of his life were nothing more than an insignificant raindrop produced by a violent storm that encircled the world.”

  The last image Roger would ever see was in front of him, an image every human life would see one day. For him, it was a puddle of water. His fading body reflected back as he saw himself dying, an image he could never have imagined, but there it was, directly in front of him. He was scared, realizing this was the end. Death was inevitable, which all living creatures must face on their day, but what Roger feared most was the unknown, the transition into a place, a time, and a state that no living creature could possibly comprehend. As he accepted his fate, the vivid image of his wife flashed before his eyes. Her soft radiating skin, her flowing brown hair, and her glowing smile were a part of him that would, and could, never die. Rapidly, Roger’s eyes clouded. The image of the puddle blurred. He could not move, and he could not breathe. He attempted to inhale a gulp of air, but he could not. Roger suddenly felt trapped and unable to fill his screaming lungs. It was the most horrifying feeling he had ever experienced. Every second seemed like an eternity as he felt completely alone. Nothing or no one could possibly understand his state, but he realized that eventually we all would experience this unavoidability. It was just a matter of time. In a flash, the pain subsided and a burst of light filled his eyes. An emotional charge traversed through his mind, his body, and his soul. It was the feeling of bliss. Then through the blinding light, he heard something so vivid, so bizarrely familiar. It was the sound of a—

  Det. Cleveland watched as Roger’s dead body bashed against the ground. Water splashed into the air from the force. Roger lay perfectly still on the ground. The detective rushed toward him and grabbed the item that Roger had attempted to display. He picked it up and showed the stunned crowd.

  “A picture, God damn it! He had a picture. Dynamite is his wife! He had a damn picture! He was just trying to find his wife!” Det. Cleveland screamed as he moved around the crowd.

  The stunned group of police and bystanders surrounded Roger’s departed body, completely immobile and unable to digest the chain of events. Det. Cleveland kicked a puddle of water as he held the rain-soaked picture in his hand. He realized he had lost and, although the man he had so desperately sought was right in front of him, he was face down and dead in the water like a belly-up fish.

  Chapter 25