A Wild Ride

by Andrew Grey

  “He says you hit him for no reason,” Officer Carlson told him in his official, hard-assed voice. “He says he was trying to help your friend.”

  Dante scoffed. “Then why did he ask if I was that fag bull rider?” Dante said, and the Officer Carlson wrote in his pad.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he presses charges,” the officer said, and Dante groaned, running a hand through his hair. The police officer’s radio sounded, and he listened. “They found the other guy. They’re bringing him over.” Lights flashed everywhere, and Dante paced slightly as he waited. The ambulance that held Ryan left the parking lot, lights flashing, siren howling and then fading as it moved further away.

  A police car approached, and the officer who’d been talking to him walked over to meet the car. Dante watched as Carlson talked to the other man through the open car window. He saw the man motioning. He couldn’t see his face, but from his animated, almost frantic gestures, Dante figured the kid was about to pee his pants.

  After a while Carlson returned to where Dante waited. “He confirms your story.”

  “Good,” Dante said, rubbing his hand. “Can I go now?” He wanted to meet Ryan at the hospital, and his hand hurt like hell. He was getting jumpy now that Ryan was gone. He had to see him and know if he was all right.

  “Yes. We have your contact information.”

  “Can you tell me where Ryan was taken?”

  “Karsten Memorial. It’s just a few miles from here,” Officer Carlson said, his tone distinctly different and much more sympathetic. “Are you sure you’re able to drive? Your hand is swelling.”

  “I’m fine,” Dante said, already hurrying to his truck. He picked up his bag and threw it in the backseat before climbing in and starting the engine and speeding away. He forced himself to recall the directions Officer Carlson had given him. He made a few wrong turns, but eventually was able to follow the signs to the hospital. He parked in the lot and followed the signs to the emergency entrance.

  Inside, he hurried to the desk, but the lady there wouldn’t give him any information. “Give me your name and the patient’s name, and I’ll check with the doctors,” she said. Dante told her, and she typed something into her computer. “Please have a seat,” she said. “It shouldn’t be long.”

  It wasn’t. A few minutes later, a nurse came out and got him, leading Dante back down a spotless hallway and into an emergency ward. “The doctors are still with him. It may be a few minutes.” She motioned to a chair just outside the area, and Dante sat down to wait. Suddenly, alarms went off everywhere. People rushed into the room, pushing machines. Orders were shouted. Dante wanted to go inside to see if all that was for Ryan, but he knew he needed to stay out of the way. When everyone came out, low and quiet, Dante hoped and prayed Ryan was okay. Afraid to move from his chair and afraid to ask anyone about Ryan in case there was no hope, he kept to himself until the nurse returned.

  “It’s all right,” she said and tilted her head toward the room next to the one everyone had rushed into. Slowly Dante stood up and stepped into the trauma ward, stopping when he saw Ryan lying on a bed, a plastic tube in his mouth, blood still clinging to the side of his head. “Are you Dante?” He nodded. “He gave permission to speak to you, and we noted it in his file. He’s going to be prepped for surgery in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” Dante whispered and walked over to Ryan. Carefully, he took Ryan’s hand, wishing he’d just once told him how he felt.

  “Sir, I’m sorry but you need to step out now,” the nurse said quietly, and Dante pressed his eyes closed and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time: he said a prayer. Then he released Ryan’s hand and placed it back on the bed before leaving the room. “There’s a waiting room just down the hall,” the nurse told him, and Dante eventually found it, settling into one of the world’s most uncomfortable chairs to wait.

  A strange ring tone sounded from Dante’s pocket, and he fished out a phone. It was Ryan’s, and Dante tried to remember how he’d gotten it. He must have picked it up while he was waiting for help. He didn’t even remember doing it, but the dang thing was in his pocket.

  “Hello,” Dante said softly, not that it really mattered in the near empty waiting room. “Ryan’s phone.”

  He got dead air for a few seconds. “Who is this?” a man’s voice demanded rudely.

  “Dante,” he said.

  “Oh, this is Ryan’s friend Jacky. Can I talk to him?”

  Dante’s throat closed. “You were the guy at the signing who wanted to me to sign his chest and his shorts.”

  “At least I wasn’t in them,” Jacky retorted with a laugh. “Ryan would probably have killed me for that.” Jacky paused for a split second. “Can I talk to him?”

  “Um, I’m afraid not. He was attacked in the parking lot by two men. One of them hit him in the head.” Dante took a deep breath and sighed into the phone. “He’s in surgery now. They didn’t tell me very much, but I did get to see him for a few minutes before they prepped him. They caught the guys, and I beat the crap out of the one that hurt Ryan.” His Ryan.

  Dante’s hand ached, and he figured he might have broken something, but he didn’t care about that. All his thoughts and worry were for Ryan.

  “Which hospital are you at?”

  “Karsten Memorial,” Dante answered, and the line went silent. Dante pulled the phone away from his ear and saw the call had ended. He shoved it back into his pocket and settled in to wait. There was nothing at all that he could do but wait.

  Time seemed to have very little meaning while Dante waited, jumping slightly whenever anyone came into the room. Every time the door opened he panicked that it was someone coming in to give him bad news. At one point he got up and found some coffee. The stuff was vile, some combination of bitterroot and pond scum, but he drank it anyway because the shit was strong and he needed to stay alert. Eventually, Ryan’s friend Jacky joined him, but Dante didn’t have any updates, so they both sprawled out on the chairs to wait. Jacky got coffee after a while, and Dante heard him take a drink and then spray the sludge all over the chair across from them.

  “Jesus God. What are they trying to do, create new patients?” Jacky threw the nearly full cup in the trash. “I saw an all-night coffee shop just across the street. You want me to bring you back some real coffee?” Jacky asked, and Dante nodded. He didn’t feel like talking much.

  While Jacky was gone, Dante folded his arms over his chest and tried to relax a bit. The chair pinched and his heart pounded faster than it did when he rode bulls. He could understand and deal with that kind of excitement and rush, but this waiting to hear if Ryan was going to live or not was almost more than he could take.

  Jacky returned with a cup carrier and handed Dante a huge Styrofoam cup. This coffee smelled divine and tasted even better. Dante sipped the hot brew for a while and then put the cup on a table.

  “What happened?” Jacky asked.

  “I think some guys were waiting for us, and they hit Ryan first. I didn’t see it. All I saw was Ryan on the ground and a guy with something in his hand. I’m not really sure what it was. The lot was lit, but by the time I saw Ryan go down, I was so enraged I couldn’t see or do anything other than beat the crap out of the guy who hit him. The bastard actually tried to convince the police that I attacked him and he was trying to help Ryan. That is, until his buddy squealed like a stuck pig. They caught them both, but that doesn’t help Ryan much.”

  “Hey,” Jacky said, “he’s alive because of you. Who knows what they’d have done if you hadn’t jumped into action.”

  Dante shrugged. “They attacked him because of me.” Dante knew Ryan would never have been a target if it hadn’t been for him. “I didn’t hear what the men were saying when they hit Ryan, but based on the stuff they asked me, ‘the fag bull rider’ was the one they wanted. Ryan just showed up first and they went after him.” Dante picked up his coffee cup, wincing when he used his injured hand.

  “You need to have that lo
oked at,” Jacky said.

  “I’m fine,” Dante said, lifting the cup with his other hand.

  “If it hurts to lift a coffee cup, then you did something to your hand.” Jacky stood up. “Come on, you’re going to have that looked at.”

  Dante was too tired and worried to argue, so he followed Jacky back to Emergency. The nurses got him in, X-rayed his hand, and pronounced that it didn’t look like he’d broken any bones. Then they wrapped his hand and presented him with a bill on his way out.

  “They told me Ryan’s in recovery and then they’re going to move him to a room,” Jacky explained to Dante once he exited the emergency area and made his way back to the waiting area. “How bad is your hand?”

  “I didn’t break anything, but they said everything’s swollen and it’s gonna hurt for a while. They gave me some pills I won’t take and wrapped it up.” He was about to complain about the hundreds of dollars they’d charged him, but he kept quiet. “Did they say how Ryan was doing?”

  “No. Just that he’s out of surgery,” Jacky said as he gathered his things and threw away the coffee cups. “We should be able to go up and see him. He’s on the fourth floor. They should have the room number up there.” Dante simply nodded blankly and followed Jacky. At least Ryan was alive and had made it through surgery. He said a quiet prayer of thanks as they entered the elevator for the ride up.

  The floor seemed relatively quiet, and Jacky spoke in a whisper to one of the nurses. “Visiting hours are over,” she said softly.

  “This is Ryan’s boyfriend, and someone certainly needs to sit with him,” Jacky said, and the nurse nodded slowly and relented.

  “He’s in 410,” she said. “I’ll be by to check on him in a few minutes.”

  Dante was already heading down the hallway. He heard Jacky say something else to her, but he didn’t pay attention. All he wanted was to see Ryan. Dante walked in the room and stopped cold. Ryan was on his back, his head completely covered with bandages. Tubes went into his arm and came out from under the covers. There was a mask over his face for what Dante assumed was oxygen. It almost looked like the machines were part of him. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost as white as the sheets. “Is he going to be okay?” Dante asked the nurse as she walked past him into the room.

  “I don’t know, honey,” she said. “The doctor should be in to check on him soon. You can ask him.” She got to work, and Dante sat in the chair next to the bed, resting his throbbing hand on one of the arms. Jacky came in and stopped just like Dante had. The nurse gave him the same answer she’d given Dante and then finished up, leaving them alone with Ryan.

  “I called Ryan’s family and told them what happened,” Jacky said.

  Dante nodded blankly, the words barely registering as he stared at Ryan, who hardly moved at all, even to breathe. Eventually the doctor came in and seemed a bit surprised to see them. “How’s Ryan?” Dante asked.

  “He suffered a blow to the head that cracked his skull. Luckily, no pieces broke off and went into his brain. We pulled the bones back together, and they should heal. We also relieved the pressure that was building on his brain. But other than that, we won’t know anything for a while. It’s hard to say how much damage there was to his brain.”

  “So you don’t know when he’ll wake up?” Dante asked.

  “Right now we have him sedated, and in a day or so we’ll reduce the medication. He may wake up then, or it could be a few more days, or….”

  “He may never wake up,” Dante supplied.

  “That’s a possibility, I’m afraid,” the doctor said. “Nothing is going to happen tonight. I suggest both of you go home to get some rest. He’s just going to sleep.” The doctor checked Ryan over, and Jacky waited until he left before walking toward the door.

  “Are you leaving?” Jacky asked, and Dante shook his head. “Okay. I’ll stop back in the morning.” Jacky left after leaning over Ryan’s bed to say good-bye, and Dante sat in the chair and closed his eyes. He knew he had to go home in the morning to see to the ranch and Gramps, but he’d stay with Ryan until someone came back in the morning.

  Chapter 10

  RYAN cracked his eyes open. He felt like someone had squeezed his head in a vise. Light streamed in from the windows. It was so bright, he closed his eyes again. He tried moving, but the slightest movement caused his head to throb, so he lay as still as he could. Slowly he became aware of things around him: pressure on his arm and other stuff that didn’t feel quite right. But he hurt and didn’t have the energy to really care. His mind was covered in a fog he couldn’t get rid of and everything felt like it existed on the other side of the haze. “Thirsty,” Ryan said, or at least that’s what he meant to say. What came out might have sounded like it came from a two-year-old, but Ryan heard movement from next to him.

  “Was that you? Did you say something?” He thought it might have been Dante, but he was too tired to open his eyes.

  “Thirsty,” he said again, his dry throat dry and scratchy.

  “Okay. I’ll get someone.”

  Ryan heard footsteps as someone left the room and then multiple voices entered the room. “Are you awake?” a female voice asked.

  “Thirsty,” Ryan said again, and then something cold touched his lips. Ice. Ryan sucked it in and swallowed. Cold water slid down his parched throat, hurting at first and then feeling much better.

  “Can you open your eyes for me?” she asked. Ryan cracked them open again. The room had been darkened, and he held his eyes open, letting them focus. A woman leaned over the bed, but his gaze shifted to Dante, standing behind her.

  “Look like hell,” Ryan said.

  “You look gorgeous,” Dante said with a smile.

  “You look like hell,” Ryan corrected and closed his eyes once again. “I feel like shit.” Another piece of ice was pressed to his lips, and Ryan sucked it in, letting it melt on his tongue. Keeping his eyes closed, he let the fog take him once again, but now it didn’t seem so thick, and he knew he could find his way back through.

  The next time he opened his eyes, there was much less fog and he could half think.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Dante asked, and this time, ice was pressed to his lips right away. “Jacky was here for a while, but he had to go to work. Your family called too, and they said they would be here later today.” Great, just what he needed right now. “The doctor says you’re doing better.”

  “How? When?”

  “Do you remember being hit in the parking lot?” Dante asked.

  “Yes,” Ryan answered. He didn’t want to think about it, but he could remember what happened, or at least he thought he could. “How long?”

  Dante sighed. “You’ve been here almost a week.” Ryan didn’t know what to say or how to react. He had so many questions they all got jumbled in his mind. “Your friend Marie from work has been by every few days, and she said to tell you not to worry. She’s got your back.”

  Ryan nodded slowly, and his head throbbed, the pain beginning in his neck and blooming all through his head. Ryan closed his eyes and thought he might be sick, it hurt so badly.

  “It’s okay, the doctor said your head was going to hurt. Your skull cracked, and they had to do surgery to relieve the pressure. It will get better.”

  But it wasn’t okay. Ryan wanted to cry, his head hurt so badly, but he couldn’t, not with Dante looking at him. Ryan had to be strong. He was always strong.

  “I’ll get someone,” Dante said, and Ryan didn’t get a chance to answer before hearing Dante’s footsteps. Each one etched itself on his brain like a huge bell was being rung in his ear. He heard footsteps return, along with the ringing again, and then activity around him. He tried to ignore it, and then the pain began to subside.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how is the pain now?” the nurse asked in a soft voice.

  “Six,” Ryan said, and then more of it dissipated. After a few minutes she asked again. “Three,” Ryan said as the ringing stopped and the throbb
ing died away. Now all he had was a background pain that he could take. “Better.”

  “Good,” she said and lightly squeezed his hand. “All you need to do is press the button,” she said as she placed the control near his hand, “and we’ll be right in.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said and closed his eyes. “You should go home,” he told Dante. “Gramps needs you.”

  “Everything’s fine there. He’s doing better, and I’ll leave once Jacky gets back here.” The chair creaked as Dante lowered himself into it.

  “You don’t have to stay. You have things to do, and I’m going to sleep now.” Ryan kept his eyes closed, and everything fell away. He figured it was the drugs, but he really didn’t give a damn. The pain was gone and his head was floaty. He couldn’t ask for any more than that.

  The next time he woke, Ryan slowly turned his head, expecting more pain, but his head just ached a little. “How are you feeling?” the doctor, judging by the white coat, asked.

  “Okay,” Ryan lied. His stomach was starting to turn loops. “Well, maybe not so good.”

  “That’s to be expected. You took a bad blow to the head and got a pretty severe concussion. You’ll have headaches and pain for a while. You may also experience memory loss and some troubles with motor skills. We aren’t exactly sure how much damage was done.” He put a pad down on the tray and pulled the curtain. “I want to check out your legs to make sure you haven’t lost any feeling.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure what that was for, but the doctor pulled up the bedding and ran his fingers over Ryan’s skin. A few times he was about to laugh, but then the pain returned. “I can feel you.”

  “Can you move your toes?” he asked, and Ryan moved both feet and his toes. “Good. That’s a very good sign.”

  “My head hurts,” Ryan said.

  “I know. We don’t want to give you too much pain medication. I’ll send the nurse in soon. Can you hold out for a while?” the doctor asked, and Ryan started to answer.