Shattered Lives

by Joseph Lewis

  Frechet examined Mike’s testicles, first one side and then the other.

  “You have bruising on your left testicle. Is this uncomfortable?” he asked as he felt it.

  “N-no.”

  “Good. That means it’s healing. I’m going to check for hernias, so turn your head to the wall and cough.”

  Mike did so.

  “Good. One more time.”

  Mike coughed again.

  “Excellent. Mike, I’m going to give you a shot to relax you so I can take out your stitches. It will make you drowsy, and you probably won’t remember anything after I inject you. You seem to be in excellent shape, and I’ll finish your exam while the shot takes effect, okay?”

  Mike nodded, though he was embarrassed and uncomfortable lying there like he was.

  “I think you have a game tonight, right?”

  Mike nodded. He watched the doctor fill a syringe from a little bottle, nip it to get air bubbles out, and then squirt it. Mike also noticed that Frechet wasn’t wearing any gloves. That was odd. Doctors and nurses always used gloves.

  “This is to help you relax.”

  He took a cotton ball and alcohol and swabbed Mike’s forearm at the elbow, found a vein and inserted the needle.

  “You’ll feel woozy in a second or two.”

  Mike’s eyes fluttered. He tried to fight it off, but couldn’t.

  “Just fall asleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be all set.

  His eyes fluttered open. Mike was on his back in the same position he was before he fell asleep.

  “Careful. You’re not fully awake yet. I’m applying an antibiotic ointment because of that broken skin. I don’t want any chance of infection.”

  Mike blinked, tried to sit up, but couldn’t.

  “All done. I’ll help you get dressed and then I’ll bring in your parents, and we’ll talk about your exam.”

  Mike kind of remembered getting dressed with Frechet’s help. He wasn’t sure if Frechet had kissed him on the lips, using his tongue. Maybe he just imagined it.

  By the time he was fully awake, he was dressed and sitting on the table, and Frechet was talking to Jennifer and Mark.

  “He’s in very good health. All things considered, that is. The reports from Chicago confirm what I found out today. Stitches came out just fine. For the next day or so, Mike should use Tucks pads, but after that, wipe as he normally would, but I’d like him to use the antibiotic ointment he used on his stitches for the next week or so. Just to be safe, I’d like to see him in two weeks to check it. Other than that, he’s good to go.”

  Frechet smiled at Mike and at his parents and then stood up, ending the session.

  Mike hadn’t spoken until he stood to leave and after his parents shook Frechet’s hand, Mike said, “Th-th-ank you.”

  Mike and Jennifer gaped at their son. They hadn’t heard Mike stutter at all in the last few days.

  “It could be the stress from the exam or from the relaxing agent,” Frechet said with his charming smile.

  He tried to place his arm around Mike’s shoulders, but Mike sped up ahead of his mother and headed out the door.

  “Mike’s been through a lot. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Frechet said gently. “He’ll be fine.”

  As they walked to the car, Mark waited until Mike was well ahead, and asked Jennifer, “What the hell happened to Mike?”

  Jennifer wondered the same thing.

  “It’s like someone threw a switch or something.” Mark said. “He goes in normal. Everything’s fine. And he comes out stuttering like he did in Chicago. What happened in there?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  Eureka, Missouri

  They hadn’t gotten back to the hotel until almost 4:00 in the morning. After Jeremy and Jeff said goodnight to the boys, Danny and Randy fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Billy helped George out of his clothes and stayed awake. George couldn’t get comfortable because the boxers he wore put too much pressure on the sutures in his groin and on his backside. No matter what the position, his boxers twisted causing discomfort.

  “Just take ‘em off,” Billy said with a yawn.

  “I’ll be naked,” George said.

  “So?”

  “I don’t think I should.”

  “It’s not like we’re going to do anything,” Billy said with a laugh.

  “Go to sleep,” George said.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Billy turned over on his side but snuggled up against George like he had done the night before and fell asleep without another word.

  George tossed and turned a little longer, and finally gave up. He slipped out of bed, removed his boxers and crawled back into bed next to Billy, trying to keep distance between them. But no matter how far he moved away, Billy settled up against him.

  Eventually, George gave up and fell asleep, facing Billy with one bandaged arm slung over his chest.

  They had slept in. As the noise outside their room grew, the boys finally roused from sleep with yawns, groans and stretches.

  “George, you awake?” Randy asked.

  “Yes,” he answered through yawn.

  “How are you?”

  “Tired, stiff and sore.”

  Billy lifted the sheet and laughed, “He’s stiff all right.”

  George glared at him, but Billy laughed again.

  Billy got out of bed, rummaged around in George’s duffle and pulled out a pair of shorts and came over to the side of the bed. Moving slowly and with a grimace, George swung his legs over the side, and Billy him helped slip his shorts on.

  “God, George!” Randy said as he sat up in bed. “I was too tired to notice last night, but you’re all cut up.”

  George looked down at himself.

  There were cuts up and down his legs, some with black thread running through them. His arms were bandaged in gauze and tape, but not a scratch on his face, chest or stomach.

  “What does my back look like?” he asked as he turned his back towards Randy.

  Randy got out of bed and ran his hand gently over George’s shoulders and back.

  “You have some cuts. There’s a long gash with stitches on your left shoulder, a couple of cuts in the middle of your back, and a couple of stitches on your lower back.”

  Randy lifted up the back of George’s shorts slowly.

  “My God, George!”

  “How bad?”

  Billy moved to the side, next to Randy, and Danny got up out of bed and stuck his head between the twins.

  “Gees,” Danny muttered.

  “How bad?” George asked again.

  “Well, there’s a bandage just under your butt on the right side, but your butt is all cut up. No stitches, but it’s cut up,” Billy answered.

  “You have cuts all over the backs of your legs, and you have stitches,” Randy said.

  George turned back around facing them.

  “How far up?” Randy asked.

  George didn’t answer, but Billy said, “Pretty far.”

  Randy and Danny waited, so George lowered his shorts to show them.

  “How did you not cut your dick and balls off?” Danny asked.

  Billy laughed and said, “Looks like he tried.”

  “I don’t understand how you didn’t cut these off,” Billy said.

  George pulled his shorts back up with Randy’s help and said, “I’m not supposed to get the stitches wet for twenty-four hours and the ones under the bandages for forty-eight hours. How am I going to get cleaned up?”

  Billy chewed on his lip and glanced at Randy, who puffed out his cheeks, placed his hands on his hips and said, “We’ll have to help you.”

  The twins marched George into the bathroom with Danny trailing behind.

  “Rock, paper, scissors,” Billy said. “One, two, three.”

  Billy had paper, Randy had scissors.

  “I’ll wash George’s hair,” Randy said.

  In the end, they washed George’s hair together wi
th Randy washing and Billy rinsing. Rather than using the blow dryer, Randy toweled George’s long, black hair to a semi-dry state.

  “Okay,” Billy said. “Take off your shorts and get in the bathtub.”

  Embarrassed, George looked from Billy, to Randy, to Danny, and then back to Billy.

  “You wanna get clean, right?” Billy asked.

  George nodded.

  “Well?”

  Because of the bandages, he struggled with his shorts. Billy helped him out of them, and Randy helped George into the bathtub.

  “Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this,” Billy said. “I’m going to start with your face and work my way down. I think I’ll just soap up my hands. You’re too cut up for me to use a washcloth. You okay with that?”

  Even with George’s dark complexion, he knew he was blushing. All he could do was nod.

  Twenty minutes later, George was clean. It was embarrassing for both Billy and George, especially when Billy washed George’s lower regions. Probably embarrassing for Randy as he gently dried the areas.

  After the bath, George said, “I can’t change the bandages by myself.”

  “No problem,” Billy said. “Let’s start on your arms.”

  It took fifteen minutes, maybe longer just to put ointment on all of George’s stitches without the bandages. Then with Randy’s help, Billy took the bandages off of George’s arms.

  “Holy shit!” Danny said. “Damn, George!”

  That was repeated several times in the process of changing George’s bandages.

  It was early afternoon when Jeremy and Jeff faced the boys. George had assured them he was fine, but tired and sore.

  “We’ve been thinking,” Jeremy started slowly. “We have some choices, especially given what took place last night.”

  He glanced at Jeff.

  “We think we should spend another day or two here. It was a late night for everyone, and I think the FBI is coming over to question you guys. In a couple of days, George can get his stitches wet, and we can go to Six Flags . . . that is, if you guys still want to.”

  “Can Patrick come?” Billy asked.

  “If he wants to.”

  The four boys looked at one another, shrugged, and Billy answered for them, “Sure.”

  “Okay. That’s settled.”

  “Jeremy called Jamie Graff and told him what happened last night. He’s sending two undercover detectives to keep an eye on us. The FBI doesn’t know, and the three of us, Graff, Jeremy and I, would like to keep it that way.”

  George cocked his head, squinting first at Jeff, shifting to Jeremy. “Why?”

  “I don’t have a good answer for you, George.” Jeremy shook his head and said, “Just a feeling.”

  George pursed his lips considering Jeremy’s answer. He trusted Pete and Summer and wasn’t sure why Jeremy didn’t. Yet, George trusted Jeremy, so he nodded.

  “After that, we have some choices,” Jeff said.

  “We can continue on our trip as we planned, ending in Arizona. Or, George and I can go to Arizona, while Jeff takes the three of you to Omaha to wait for George and me to finish what we need to do.”

  Randy shook his head, while Billy was adamant, “No,” he said quietly, but with force. “We’re family. Families stick together.”

  “You saw what happened last night,” Jeff said gently. “That man meant to kill everyone in the room.”

  “We know there are three men just like him waiting for us in Arizona. They’re going to try to kill us, just like that man tried to do last night.”

  “We know, Dad,” Randy said quietly. “But listen, please, okay?” He waited until Jeremy and Jeff nodded. “I can’t speak for Danny, but Billy and I’ve talked. We want to be with you and George. We’re family.”

  “Besides,” Billy added quietly, “Those three men are after you and Randy. That means they’re after me too.”

  “That’s why we thought one option would be for me to take the two of you and Danny to Omaha to wait until your dad and George finish in Arizona. Keep you guys safe.”

  Billy looked at Randy, at George and then back at Jeremy.

  “No, families stick together, especially if George is joining our family.”

  “And if we have two cops watching over us, we’ll be safer, right?” Randy asked.

  “Well, that’s the theory.”

  “Father, I have been thinking.” George had a habit of slipping into a formal speech pattern when he had something serious to say. “I know my land. Those three men do not. That is our advantage. They also see me as a child. That is a further advantage.”

  “Even after last night?” Jeff asked. “Word is going to get out how you killed that man and had a hand in the death of the agent in Chicago.”

  George blushed and nodded.

  “I thought of that. But the bigger advantage is that I know my land. I have hunted it. Rode horses on it. They don’t know my land like I do. That is our advantage.”

  “What are you proposing?” Jeremy asked.

  George took a deep breath, looked at Billy, at Randy and at Danny.

  “We take our trip as we planned. Just before we get to my country, Mister L takes Billy, Randy, and Danny away to wait for us . . . somewhere close by, but safe. When we’re done, you and I will meet up with them.”

  “I’d like to see where you used to live,” Randy said.

  “Me, too,” Billy added.

  George sighed and then nodded.

  “I think we could do that. I lived far enough away from where these men might wait for us, but we’ll have to talk to my cousin, Leonard first.”

  “Danny, are you okay with this?” Jeff asked.

  Danny looked down at his hands and then looked up and nodded.

  “Dad, they’re my best friends. I’d rather be with these guys than anyone else. I’d like to be with them as long as possible.”

  Jeff smiled and nodded.

  “George’s option was actually the one Jeremy and I thought you guys would choose.”

  “Father, one last thing,” George said.

  Jeremy smiled and said, “What’s that?”

  “Can you get pictures and information on the three men who are looking for us?”

  “Why?” Jeremy asked.

  “They know who we are. I want to know who is hunting us.”

  “I know the FBI released their pictures, but I don’t know how much they know about them. I’ll see what I can get from Pete, okay?”

  George nodded at Jeremy.

  Jeff smiled at the boys and said, “Okay, we have our plan, but on one condition.”

  The boys waited.

  “Our plans stay in this room. No one else, not any of your friends, not the police, not the FBI, not the undercover cops know about this. George, your cousin doesn’t find out until Jeremy says it’s okay to do so. We think it’s safer that way. Okay?”

  Except for George, the boys nodded. George wondered why Jeremy and Jeff didn’t trust Pete or Summer or even Detective Graff.

  For that matter, why didn’t they trust his cousin, Leonard?

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  West Bend, Wisconsin

  Things were moving in the general direction of normalcy. Even Christi was getting used to Tim. Laura thought it odd that her son and daughter would have to get used to one another, but after more than two years of being separated, they didn’t know one another anymore. However, that was changing.

  Laughter helped. Laura Pruitt loved the sound of voices in the house, especially laughter.

  Since the day Cal showed up with the basketball, the four boys had been inseparable. Cal and Kaid did most of the talking, with Tim chiming in every now and then, usually prompting a laugh. The only one who didn’t talk much was Gavin. Tim had told her what he had gone through the past two years, suggesting that what Gavin went through was almost as bad as what he went through. Laura didn’t doubt that Gavin had suffered, but doubted it was as bad as what Tim and the other boys in Chic
ago had gone through.

  The phone rang and she noticed the caller ID. Stephen Bailey.

  “Pruitts,” Laura answered.

  “Mrs. Pruitt, can I talk to Tim? It’s important.”

  Laura frowned and said, “Just a minute, Stephen. I’ll get him.”

  “Tim, phone,” she called. “It’s Stephen.”

  Tim came in smiling at something, took the phone and said, “Hey, Stephen. What’s up?”

  “Tim, something bad happened to Mike. He’s stuttering again.”

  Tim paced the kitchen, one hand on his hip, one holding the phone as Stephen filled him in on Mike’s morning. Laura watched her son. There were too many possibilities as she watched Tim’s face cloud up.

  Cal, Kaid and Gavin came into the kitchen to see what was happening. Christi came out from the back bedroom and stood in the doorway.

  “Where is he now?” Tim asked.

  “Inside. His mom asked me to call you.”

  “Did you call Brett?”

  “Yes, but he can’t come until tomorrow. His mom has a couple of heart surgeries or something like that.”

  Tim covered the mouthpiece and said, “Mom, I need to go see Mike. Can you take me to Waukesha?”

  Laura looked at the clock. Thad wouldn’t be home until five-thirty. Christi had dance at six-thirty. She’d have Christi call Jessica to see if Christi could be dropped off there and then together, go to dance practice. Thad could pop a pizza in for dinner and pick up the girls.

  Already nodding, she said, “Yes.”

  Christi called her friend. Laura called Thad and explained what little she knew.

  “Guys, something happened to my friend Mike,” Tim said to them after he hung up.

  “You okay?” Kaid asked.

  Tim nodded, straining to keep composure.

  “Do you want us to come along?” Kaid asked.

  Tim looked hopeful.

  “Kaid, we can’t. We have a game tonight,” Cal said. “Sorry, Tim.”

  “I can go, I think,” Gavin said. “I’d have to ask.”

  “Can you?” Tim asked.

  Gavin went back into the family room to fetch his cell.