Catastrophic

by Dustin Stevens

  The smile faded from Carbone’s face, a look of genuine disappointment replacing it.

  Reed gave a glance to Ramirez, his face heavy with guilt. “But if you wouldn’t mind sticking around town for a while, we might very well yet.”

  The smile returned just as fast as it had faded, Carbone’s features twisting with sadistic pleasure. He raised two fingers to his brow and saluted in understanding, rising and leaving before another word was said.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The mid-May sun was strong, the kind of weather that made school children long for summer vacation and working adults yearn for the weekend. Spring had been a little slower than usual in arriving this year, but when it finally showed up it did so in spectacular fashion.

  Overnight, days of gray and low hanging clouds dousing the world in a fine mist capitulated, leaving lustrous color in their wake. The dead grasses and barren tree limbs of a Midwestern winter yielded, replaced by rolling fields and leaves of varying shades of green. Flowers sprouted from every available orifice of the earth, pushing their way towards the sky in exultation of a season forever in coming.

  Despite the cornucopia of color going on around him, Shane was in a dour mood as he steered his car east of Columbus, Molly on the seat beside him. The trial was just nine days from starting, his nights of sleeping until morning now a distant memory. Most of his waking hours were spent in the law library at OTU, the only people he spoke to with any regularity being Heath, Abby, Prescott, and the occasional phone call to Tyler.

  Otherwise, it was just him, a stack of legal precedent, and a desk lamp. At least at Webster, Banks & Cohen he’d been afforded a view.

  Over a year had passed since he’d last made this drive, though not one thing along the route had changed. As he exited the freeway and steered south through farmland, rows of winter wheat now standing a foot tall in the fields, a feeling of déjà vu crept through him. He’d gone on this journey no less than two dozen times in the past, each one a little harder than the time before. Even this time, despite the months that had passed, would be difficult.

  The same old feeling had been waiting for him when he awoke that morning, sitting right behind his eyes, a tiny lead weight pressing on his thoughts. As he rose, showered, dressed, ate, it managed to work its way south, resting like a heavy lump in his throat he spent all morning trying to swallow.

  All he managed to do was force it down into his stomach, where it now sat like a brick, jolting his inside with every move he made.

  On the seat beside him, Molly seemed to be having none of the same concerns, her body twisted into a tight ball, somehow maximizing every last bit of a small square of sunshine. For some reason Shane couldn’t quite pinpoint, he shook his head in irritation as he made a left onto a tiny gravel lane.

  The road was marked by a row of shrubbery on either side, a pair of flowering dogwoods in full bloom behind them. On the left side a low slung simple sign of white with peach lettering welcome them to Shady Lanes.

  No other words, no further description of where they were.

  True to its moniker, a thicket of towering elm trees blocked out the midday sun as Shane drove, the brushed gravel drive passing beneath his tires. His heart began to have slight palpitations as a large home appeared at the end of the drive, a bit of sweat hitting his forehead, his breath becoming audible in his ears.

  With each second the home grew closer, materializing to resemble a plantation estate from somewhere in the Deep South, everything painted white with enormous columns lining the front. Flowerbeds extended out around the house like a halo, the yard well groomed.

  About the only thing that seemed out of place at all was a shiny black Audi parked off to the side.

  Seeing the car silent and waiting for him brought a smile to Shane’s face as he angled his Honda alongside it and stepped out. Beside him, the driver’s side door of the Audi opened and Christine emerged, a pink and white sundress offset by her dark complexion.

  “Bout time you got here,” she said, reaching down into her car and extracting a pair of sunglasses, opening them and placing them over her eyes with only one hand.

  Shane ignored the comment, fighting back the urge to rush over and envelope her in a hug. “Thank you for coming.” He reached back into the car and slid his hand beneath Molly’s warm belly, the cat protesting just a bit as he lifted her out and tucked her close against his hip. “Even if I didn’t ask you to.”

  Christine circled the back of her car and came up alongside them, sliding a hand through the crook of Shane’s left arm. “Have you ever had to?”

  The comment elicited a smirk from Shane, who shook his head, unable to argue with it. “No, I guess I haven’t.”

  Arm in arm they walked across the gravel, their feet crunching beneath them, towards the house. A pair of elder men sat in rocking chairs playing checkers as they approached, neither one so much as looking their way. An orderly dressed in all white stood watch nearby, nodding to Shane, his eyes lingering a bit longer on Christine, as they passed.

  Both returned the gesture and headed inside, a set of wide double doors opening into a deceptively large space, the spacious old home having been refitted into a functioning convalescent home.

  Just stepping into the place brought back a flood of memories, all of which Shane could do without. The roiling in his stomach grew stronger with each step, a sharp intake of breath passing through his nose. He could feel Christine’s grip on his arm grow stronger as they walked, her other hand reaching up to remove the sunglasses, a quick look of reassurance aimed his direction.

  As best he could Shane blocked it out, aiming his focus on the diminutive woman sitting behind the desk.

  She was short and thin, her hair more like wisps of silver, a white cardigan draped over her narrow shoulders. Her face was pinched in deep concentration as they approached, only looking up at the sound of their footfalls against the wooden floor. Once she did a look of recognition flooded her features and she was on her feet in no time, arms outstretched before her.

  “Oh, Shane!”

  Despite her tiny statute, she held a strength Shane didn’t know possible as she pulled him into a hug. He released Christine’s hand and returned it with one arm, Molly extended from his side in the other.

  As fast as she had overtaken him she pulled back, her hands finding Molly’s head and scratching her ears.

  “Oh it’s so good to see you, she’s going to be so happy. And you even brought this old rascal for her to too.”

  “Good to see you as well Kay. How have you been?”

  Kay pulled back from Molly and rested her fists on her hips, shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated sigh. “Good, busy. Same old thing.”

  “Which isn’t always a bad thing,” Shane said. “Kay, do you remember my friend Christine? She came out here with me once before.”

  “Of course, of course,” Kay said, arms shooting out from her side to engulf Christine in a squeeze as well. “How could I forget?”

  “Nice to see you again,” Christine said, her voice a touch strained from the force of the hug laid upon her.

  Kay held the pose for several seconds before pulling back, again resting her fists on her hips. She pressed her lips tight together and shook her head, a touch of moisture glistening from the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m just so glad you all came out here today. We don’t get enough surprise visits from family, and it just does them a world of good. A world of good.”

  Shane stood and smiled, letting the statement pass. “How is she?”

  “She’s...” Kay said, searching for the right words, “the same too.”

  Shane gave her a knowing nod, all-too-familiar with what she meant.

  “Is she in the same room? Can we head back there?”

  A bony wrist shot up in front of Kay, her other hand rising to push back the sleeve of her sweater to check a wristwatch. “Let’s see here. Yes, you most certainly can. The nurses have already made thei
r rounds, lunchtime isn’t for another couple of hours. You know where it is, right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Shane said, reaching for Christine’s hand and pulling her towards the hallway. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you!” Kay called behind them, her voice already growing fainter as Shane led them down the main hallway. At the end of it he turned right and headed for the far corner, the very last door on the main floor. He stopped outside it for just a moment and took a breath, Christine’s hand tightening inside his.

  Shane looked at her once and nodded before releasing her grip and knocking on the door with the back of his hand, pushing it open as he stepped inside.

  “Hey there, Mama.”

  The room was awash in half-light as they entered, all of it produced from the outdoor sun sifting through the blinds. The entire space was not more than fifteen feet square, a dresser and chair along the far side, a few paintings and pictures on the walls. In the center of the room was an oversized, adjustable hospital bed and on it lay a shriveled woman, her size and age both indiscernible.

  A mountain of blankets seemed to bury her body, cocooning her within them. Thick dark hair was streaked with swaths of silver, her skin splotched with age spots. A bevy of tubes and lines were connected to her, feeding oxygen into her nostrils and a series of fluids and narcotics into her veins.

  Whereas the entire far side of the room was made to appear as homey as possible, the close side was everything needed for a functioning care unit. A breathing apparatus rose and fell with each breath, a heart rate monitor beeping out an even pulse beside it. A silver tray used for medication and feeding was pulled alongside the machines, though at the moment was empty.

  At the sight of her lying on the bed Molly wriggled herself free of Shane’s grip, hitting the floor in two strides before bounding up onto the bed. She walked right onto center mass and circled twice, curling herself into a tight ball.

  Shane walked in behind Molly and leaned down to kiss his mother on the forehead, running a hand back over her hair. “How you doing today?”

  Her eyes were open, her head angled to face out the window on the far side of the room. No indication of recognition crossed her face, not even the faintest flicker behind the eyes.

  It had been years since the incident, but the mere sight of her still stabbed Shane in the heart. The slightest tinges of tears formed along the bottom of his eyes as he stood by her side, waiting until they passed before kissing her again and turning back to Christine.

  “This never gets any easier, you know it?”

  “No, I imagine it doesn’t.” Taking that as a cue to enter, Christine walked forward, grasped the withered hand lying atop the covers, and gave it a squeeze. “Hey Sandy, it’s nice to see you again.”

  She held the hand for a long moment, looking down at Sandy’s face before her eyes slid down to Molly curled up atop her chest.

  “You know, I always wondered about that. You just never took me for a cat man.”

  Shane smirked and walked around to the opposite side of the bed, lowering himself in the chair and grasping his mother’s opposite hand. “I’m not, at all. Funny thing is, she wasn’t either, but for whatever reason these two always hit it off.”

  Aware that she was being discussed, Molly began to purr between them.

  “When everything happened, I just couldn’t bear to get rid of her. I know she won’t last forever, and I know it sounds crazy, but as long as she’s here, I feel like I still have a tangible connection to my mom.”

  A soft look crossed Christine’s features, her gaze shifting from Molly to Shane. “You do still have a tangible connection to her though, she’s right here.”

  Shane leaned forward and raised his mother’s hand, running the back of it against his cheek. He remained that way for several seconds, his eyes closed.

  “Do you remember the very first time we met?” Shane asked. “When you asked if I was afraid of you?”

  A sound between a cough and a laugh slid out from Christine. “Yeah, and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

  Shane’s eyes opened, the whites of them tinged with red, and he nodded towards his mother with the top of his head. “She was the meanest, most determined, dogged, intense, kind, loving, protective, caring woman I’ve ever known. I’ve seen her go into a courtroom and make tattooed gangbangers cry, then come home and make me grilled cheese for dinner.”

  Christine smiled, her dark eyes a bit glassy. “I remember. Did you know we even studied a couple of her cases in business school? Our professor referred to her as The Bulldog.”

  “Ha!” Shane said, the sound escaping him before he even realized it. “You serious?”

  “Yeah,” Christine replied, nodding her head, her own smile in place. “Don’t think I wasn’t big time that day, telling everybody I knew Sandy Laszlo.”

  “She would have liked that,” Shane said, the side of his mouth turning up in a half smile. “So yeah, no disrespect, but I was never afraid of you. Just like I wasn’t the least bit afraid of Connor Reed last week in that meeting. If I could survive losing her, I can survive anything.”

  Christine pressed her lips together in a half smile, regarding her friend. “How you doing with all that?”

  Shane’s gaze shifted to look at her, a long breath drawing in through his nose. “I’m okay. Tyler gets in on Thursday, opening statements start on Monday. I don’t know that you ever feel ready, but I’m as prepared as I can be, so let’s just get going already.”

  A small twist of the head from side to side was his response. “That’s not what I meant.”

  A look of confusion passed over Shane’s face, followed by a moment of clarity. His lips formed into a small circle as he stared at her, his eyes wandering up to his mother’s face.

  “I don’t know yet. Like you said before, I know it’s going to come out, it has to, but I still don’t know how or when.”

  “Has the other side given any indication yet that they know?”

  “No,” Shane said, twisting his head, “but they know. Hell, she’s my local attorney of record, her name is listed right on the complaint.”

  Christine’s eyebrows shot up, the information surprising her. The two of them sat in silence for several moments, both staring at Sandy, lost in thought.

  “So maybe that’s your angle,” Christine said, her voice drawing Shane’s gaze towards her.

  “What’s that?” he asked, his voice thick and low.

  “Well,” Christine replied, her head making a non-committal gesture, “they know she’s going to play into it somehow. Odds are, they’ll try to do something to minimize her impact, maybe take her out of it altogether.”

  Christine fell silent, her gaze lingering on Shane. He matched the look for several seconds before nodding his understanding.

  “I was setting a trap for them without even realizing it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The plane touched down from Denver into Columbus at just after three in the afternoon. The journey had started in Worland nine hours before, featuring a drive to Cody, a connecting flight, a layover, and then the three hour trip back to Columbus.

  Due to Tyler’s special circumstances, Shane was allowed to pass through security without a boarding pass, sitting gate side as the passengers unloaded, airport wheelchair by his side. He stood as Tyler approached, a knapsack over one shoulder, crutches propped up under both his armpits.

  The time away had taken a toll, though he looked much better than their first video conference discussion six weeks before. He was still a lot lighter than the last time Shane had seen him, though there was some color in his cheeks, his spirits seemed better.

  Shane left the wheelchair parked beside a row of interlocked airport seats and met Tyler just past the gate, his hand extended. Tyler stopped and returned the shake, his upper body supported by the metal crutches beneath him.

  “Good trip?” Shane asked, the safest thing he could think of to open with. It was
the first face to face encounter they’d had in over a year, and even then all interaction they had was confined to the teacher-student role.

  “It was interesting,” Tyler said, giving Shane a harried look and resuming the crutches. He wore a Wyoming football sweatshirt and gym shorts, the left leg of them swinging free around his thigh. Despite the crutches he moved well, motioning towards the wheelchair. “That for me?”

  “If you want it,” Shane said, hoping he hadn’t made a faux pas in bringing it. “If not, the attendant there said we can just leave it, they’ll have someone get it later.”

  “Hell no,” Tyler said, positioning himself beside it before hopping once over and dropping down onto the padded cushion. He remained motionless for a moment, his face upturned in relief, before opening his eyes and sliding the bag from his shoulder. “I tell you what, I don’t mind hopping, and I’m almost used to the chair, but I hate those damn crutches.”

  Without waiting for Shane to move, he extended the crutches to him, motioning for him to take them. Once Shane did, he wheeled himself through the terminal, his arms propelling himself forward.

  “Few more weeks and you won’t need either of them,” Shane said, falling in beside him.

  “You know what’s funny?” Tyler asked as they wheeled out past the food court and the ticket counters, a thin crowd parting for them as they went. “Used to be, I never even noticed the stares. Every once in a while someone would come up and ask for an autograph or something, but otherwise, didn’t even enter my mind. Now? I am very aware of it at all times.”

  Shane glanced down to see Tyler facing forward, his face locked in a matter-of-fact stare. “Got a lot of that today huh?”

  “Maybe I’m just hypersensitive to it, but it sure as hell felt like it.”

  They left the airport wheelchair by the curb and got into the Honda, Shane maneuvering them straight across town towards campus. He knew Tyler must be exhausted and want nothing more than to lie down after his journey, but there wasn’t the time to allow it. Every minute of the previous weeks had been spent in intense preparation, it was now time to lay out the full strategy for everybody, piece together all the roles they had been playing into a larger format.