by Slaton Smith
“Come inside and get cleaned up. We need to leave in about five minutes.”
Sean’s back felt tight from the pull-ups. He wasn’t worried. He recovered pretty fast these days.
Brian tossed him some gauze and athletic tape. Sean started wrapping his hands. When he was finished, he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He grabbed an apple from the counter and went back outside. Bailey had gotten out of the house and was sitting in the passenger side seat again. Sean put the water and apple on the seat so he could lead her back inside. He gave her a hug and went back outside with Brian. He had loaded his equipment in the back, plus a duffel bag which no doubt contained his radio and other police stuff. Sean slid into the driver’s seat and waited while Brian closed the garage. Sean backed out of the driveway and headed for the field. Sean turned into the parking lot and rolled up to the edge of the chain link fence that enclosed the field. At the far end of the field, there was an older man inspecting the grass while walking towards them. Brian waved at him and jumped out of the Jeep, rummaging through his duffel for an envelope.
“That your bribe?” Sean asked. He was kidding. Brian was very kind and always took care of the folks he felt needed it or those who helped him.
“Just something for Tony and his wife. He is a huge Pen’s fan. I am giving him my season opener tickets. Grab our stuff, will you?” Brian said, snapping the envelope on the seat of the car. Sean knew there were more than just tickets in there. Brian was like that. He would probably end up giving everything away before he died.
“Sure.”
Sean got out, picked up the equipment and the duffel and followed Brian onto the field. He was already talking to Tony. Tony hugged him. Sean could tell Brian was smiling and thanking him. Sean dumped the equipment on the sideline nearest the street and sat down on the grass. The Shadyside Prep field was easily the best they played on all year. Rich, deep green grass. The kind that actually is not too bad to fall on. Across the field, just beyond the bleachers was the school. Ringed by old trees, it had an Ivy League look to it. Brian approached.
“You want to toss it around a little?” Brian asked, picking up his stick. Brian had practically been born with a stick in his hand. He attended camps across the country. He could have played at Syracuse, Hopkins or UNC, but he wanted to go to WVU like his grandfather. He ended up playing club lacrosse for four years in Morgantown. He played for a pro team for a few months as well. He dominated the men’s club level and had a great time and never regretted his decision to go to WVU.
“Sure, I am really rusty.” Sean got up, picked up the d-stick, and jogged onto the field. Brian zipped one to him. Sean snatched it without effort and sent it back to Brian.
“Wow. I would not call that rusty,” Brian said as he moved to his left and flipped the ball back over his shoulder. Ten minutes quickly passed and the rest of the team started to trickle onto the field. They were all happy to see Sean, which surprised him. Everyone asked where he’d been and what he had been up to.
“Sean, I missed you! Without you here, I am the biggest goon!” said Tom Ryan, one of the team’s attackmen. Tom had gone to WVU with Brian and Sean and had been their roommate off and on. A little bit shorter than Brian, Tom lived in Pittsburgh and worked for a large PR firm doing political stuff. Sean shook his hand.
“Come on buddy, you’ll always be the biggest goon to me,” Sean said poking Tom in the mid section with his stick. The team began warming up in a very un-organized fashion. Some guys took it seriously and tried to get drills going, but without much success. A handful of cars pulled into the lot. The Harrisburg squad had arrived.
“Brian,” Sean said, nodding towards the lot. “Your friends are here.” Brian jogged over and met the Harrisburg guys and pointed over to the other sideline.
“Thanks for having us, Brian,” said Andrew Foster, the head of the Harrisburg club. “We going to Doc’s after?” Most guys played simply for the social aspect.
“You know it. We have a keg for the teams.”
“My man!” Andrew said, as he was slapping Brian’s back.
Not everyone was happy. Steve Vaughn, a Harrisburg middie, hated the Pittsburgh group, but mostly he hated Sean. There was bad blood. Vaughn, unlike Sean, was a former D1 mid-fielder at Duke. He was big time, or at least thought he was.
“I see that asshole, Garrison, is back,” Steve said to Andrew as he was pulling his gloves out of his bag. Andrew turned and got in Steve’s face.
“Look, I don’t want a fight. I want to play and then drink a lot of beer. Just cool it,” Andrew said. Steve pushed him back.
“Yeah, sure.”
The referees arrived. Brian announced that they would start in thirty minutes. Sean got up and jogged across the field. He reached the other sideline and hunkered down and ran backwards, turning left, then right every ten yards. Arriving at his sideline, he stopped and sprinted back to the other side, starting the whole process again. Tom walked up to Brian.
“What’s he doing?” Tom asked, still watching Sean.
“Running,” Brian said, pulling on his shoulder pads.
“I see that. This is a guy who could barely run a hundred yards a year ago.”
“Change of attitude. I guess,” Brian said, reaching for his arm pads.
“Hey, is he going to keep his mouth shut?” Tom asked, looking at the Harrisburg guys who were also watching Sean.
“Yeah, I talked to him. No problem.” As the words came out of Brian’s mouth, Sean was approaching the other sideline. Steve was standing there.
“Hey, Steve,” Sean said, as he approached the sideline.
“I thought you were off the team, Garrison?” Steve sneered. Sean stopped and turned to head back to other side.
“I was, but they brought me back. I specialize in beating up eunuchs like you,” Sean smiled and ran back the other way. One of the Harrisburg guys grabbed a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulled him the other way.
“Let it go,” the teammate said. Both turned and went back to the group.
“I’m going to ear-hole that bastard,” Steve said to himself. He glared at Sean over his shoulder.
Stacy and Michelle had arrived and were walking from their car to the bleachers. Brian waved at them. They waved back.
“Stacy, I don’t want to be here,” Michelle said to her friend. Michelle was around 5’9” with long jet-black hair and dark eyes. She had on a pair of shorts that showed off her caramel colored legs. Her mother was Japanese and her father African-American. She was a combination of the best of both of them. She rowed at WVU and still rowed when she could down on the Allegheny River with the Three Rivers Rowing club. As much as she loved the water, she loved books more. Her heart was in the classroom, an outstanding student; she went to Johns Hopkins for medical school and was now at UPMC. She wore a gray Hopkins sweatshirt.
“Come on. It will be fun. There’s a party afterwards,” Stacy pleaded. Stacy had on jeans and V-neck sweater. They both settled in the bleachers behind the team
Sean was standing next to Tom looking around.
“Who you looking for buddy?” Tom said, trying to see.
“A girl,” Sean said absently.
“Michelle is back there,” Tom said squinting in the sun, looking at Michelle.
“Yeah, I know. This is somebody else. I met her at Starbucks. Amazing. Right away, I felt like I knew her. You know what I mean?” Sean said. Tom looked at him puzzled.
“No, I don’t. You sound like a pussy,” he paused and looked at Sean. “Hey, can I ask out Michelle?” He stood there waiting for a reaction. Sean was still scanning the stands for Sandy. He felt certain she would come.
“Go ahead. I know she turned you down once already.” Sean looked at him. Tom stared at the ground, a little embarrassed.
“You knew about that?” Tom asked.
“Yeah. Probably did not want to catch anything.” Sean smirked and walked over to Brian.
“Brian, you have a jersey for
me? “ Brian reached into the duffel and tossed him a gold jersey. Number thirteen. He dropped his stick and pulled off the black wool cap. His hair was wet with sweat. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head. Immediately, he heard some whistles. The black sleeveless Under Armor compression shirt he was wearing made his delts and traps pop, his triceps and biceps had multiple veins running across the muscles. His wrists rippled. Through the shirt you could make out Sean’s abs – a six-pack.
“Wow! Welcome to the gun show!” Tom yelled.
“Shut up Tom,” Sean said.
Stacy poked Michelle.
“What?” she exclaimed, looking at Stacy. Stacy pointed at the field. Michelle leaned forward. She did not say anything. She stared at Sean. “What has he been doing?” she said to herself.
“Worth the drive. Right,” Stacy laughed.
Sean saw Michelle and nodded in her direction and put his helmet and then his gloves on. She was not worth a wave.
Sandy noticed, too, but of course she had been watching him for a long time. She had taken a seat in the bleachers on the Harrisburg side. Sean saw her and pointed his stick in her direction. She did not respond.
“Who’s that?” Michelle asked Stacy, as she looked at the tall blonde figure across the field.
“No telling,” Stacy sneered.
Sandy had a good view of everything from her vantage point. She had leaned her bike against the fence and was six rows up. She was still wearing the same clothes from earlier. She could see Bill and Bob across the street. Others also had a good vantage point. Steve and two other guys from Harrisburg walked over and leaned on the fence surrounding the field and looked up at her in the bleachers.
“You here to watch us crush those guys?” Steve asked, checking out her long legs. She ignored them.
“Hey! You hear me?” Steve asked again. Sandy looked down at them and removed her sunglasses. She stared at him. A cold sensation ran through Steve. He suddenly was afraid. Something in her eyes.
“Fuck off,” she said. She put her glasses back on and looked forward. “Damn that feels good,” she thought. Steve and the other two turned and walked away.
“Let’s not do that again,” one of them said to the other.
The refs blew the whistle – game time.
“It’s coming to you off the face buddy,” Brian said to him and stopped at the middle of the field for the face off. Sean jogged to the far sideline and took his position. Steve was standing there. Sean turned and stood next to him. At midfield Brian looked over at Sean.
“Remember what I said!” Brian shouted.
“You two are a couple fags,” Steve snarled.
“Thanks eunuch,” Sean replied and at that same moment the whistle blew. Brian won the face and the ball shot across the field like a laser towards Sean. He caught it and immediately headed for the goal. However, Steve was good, moving into position to check the ball out of Sean’s stick. But Sean was not the Sean of old. He moved too fast. In Sean’s mind, the rest of the men on the field were moving in slow motion. The speed in which impulses were sent to Sean’s brain was unrivaled, providing him with reflexes and speed that was unmatched – on the field and everywhere else for that matter. He gave Steve a face dodge and ran right past him. Steve stood there, mouth open. Brian stopped too. Sean crossed mid-field, heading for the goal. A Harrisburg defenseman moved up to stop him. Sean made a sharp cut left, shifting the stick to his left. The defenseman stumbled trying to slide over to check Sean. He fired the shot out of the d-stick. It went in top left. It appeared as if the goalie’s feet were stuck in concrete. The whistle blew. Sean stopped running and turned to go back to his position. Brian still at midfield, walked towards his friend.
“That’s some kind of fast! Where has that been?”
Sean shrugged.
“If I run all that way, I’m going to shoot,” Sean said, with a broad smile.
“Let’s do it again,” Brian said, tapping him with his stick. Sean lined up again with Steve. Sean looked at him.
“They must have taken your legs too, eunuch,” Sean taunted.
“Asshole. I’m going to ear-hole that prick,” Steve mumbled.
The whistle blew. Brian won the face again and snapped the ball to Sean. Another laser, right to him. He snatched it out of the air and made a beeline for the goal. He was too fast, too quick for Harrisburg. He crossed mid-field again and ran straight for the goal. The shot came out like a rocket. The goalie didn’t have a chance. His second goal in less than a minute. Play stopped. Sean stopped to turn and head back to mid-field. Steve Vaughn did not stop, however. He had a fourteen-step jump and crosschecked Sean high, right to the head.
The lights went out.
Sean’s head snapped violently to the left. His feet left the ground. His gloves flew off and he landed on his left side. He did not move. Several things happened at once. Tom Ryan grabbed the back of Steve’s jersey, and slammed him to the ground. Tom began punching him like he was a human jackhammer. Several Harrisburg players pulled Tom off Steve. Michelle and Stacy covered their mouths with their hands in shock.
Sandy stood up. “No! No!” she said. She feared he was dead. Bill and Bob got out of the truck and walked to the edge of the fence.
Sean was still unconscious.
Brian ran over to his friend and got down on his hands and knees. “You OK, buddy? You OK?” Sean did not respond. Brian put his hand on Sean’s shoulder.
“DON’T MOVE HIM! DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Michelle yelled, as she bounded down the bleachers. She vaulted the fence and sprinted across the field. The players from both teams surrounded Sean. Brian ran back to his duffel and pulled out his radio.
“This is Officer Brian Ippolito! I need an ambulance and a patrol car at Shadyside Prep!” The dispatcher acknowledged the request. Both were on the way. Brian ran back to Sean. Michelle was on her knees trying to bring Sean around.
“She put her ear to his facemask. Remarkably, his helmet was still on. “Thank god! He’s breathing!” she shouted back to Brain.
“Sean! Sean! Wake up! Wake up!” she got no response. Brian kneeled down next to him. Tom Ryan was rubbing his knuckles, still staring at Steve.
The ambulance and the Pittsburgh Police arrived simultaneously. The grounds keeper, Tony, opened the fence and let the ambulance onto the field. Two large cops headed straight to Brian. The EMTs jumped out of the ambulance and jogged over to Michelle. They both knew her.
“What happened?” the first EMT asked, bending down, looking at Sean.
“He was blindsided, hit in the head,” Brian answered. The two Pittsburgh cops stood behind him.
“We need a board.” Both EMTs ran back to ambulance and came back with a backboard.
“Careful. Careful.” Michelle cautioned the EMTs.
Sandy was still standing. She was dialing her phone and calling a number she dreaded. Robert Waters picked up on the first ring.
“What is it?”
“Number two is down,” she said.
“What do you mean down?” he asked with impatience.
“He is being placed on a backboard. He’s unconscious.”
Waters sighed. “This program is shut down. You are to leave Pittsburgh immediately and be in Boston by Monday.” He hung up.
Sandy looked towards Bill and Bob. They were looking at Bob’s phone. Bob put it to his ear and motioned for Bill to get in the truck.
It was Waters. Bob and Bill closed the door to the truck. “This project has ended. You both are tasked with taking care of loose ends. Make sure number two never wakes up. I am sending you help. You need to eliminate Sandy as well. She cannot leave Pittsburgh.”
“I understand, but we don’t need help.” Bob said.
“You do. She is more dangerous than you know. I am cleaning up this mess before it explodes in my face.” He hung up.
Sandy looked at her iPhone. She tried to call Bill and Bob. Her phone was now out of service. “Shit,” she said to herself. She took one more look a
t Sean being placed on the board and watched Bill and Bob roaring way in the truck.
She bounded down the bleachers to her bike. She knew this could have happened at anytime. It was one of the reasons she had to watch him so closely. Three things could happen. One, Sean would never wake up. He would die. Two, Sean would wake up a vegetable.
Three is what they all feared. Total recall. Sean would wake up. He would remember everything. He would know it all. Instantly, he would become a threat. A threat they would have to neutralize. Or try to neutralize.
The EMTs were rolling Sean onto the board very slowly. The group held their collective breaths. Sean was now on his back. He had not regained consciousness. The EMTs did not want to risk removing his helmet. They pulled out small electric drills and began removing his facemask. They got it off and threw it to the side. Tom picked it up and held it, staring at his friend. They lifted Sean and started moving to the ambulance. Michelle followed them and got into the ambulance. They placed him on a gurney, strapped him down and cut away his jersey and compression shirt. Heart monitors were placed on his chest and an IV was started. Michelle looked at the heart monitor. His heart was strong. His blood pressure looked good. She held his hand. The ambulance started off the field and made the short trip to UPMC.