Frame by Frame

by CJ Murphy

  She felt the weight of the helmet as she tried to lift her head. Her vision blurry, she tried to focus, tried to find her company commander. The sounds all around her were foreign and unrecognizable with her blunted hearing. Heat, searing heat, and the unmistakable smell of blood. She hurt all over. Where had the blast come from? Where was the danger? She reached for her service weapon, missing. Her training coming back to her. I need to move, find cover. How many hostiles? Identify. Eliminate. Muffled voices she couldn’t understand, closer. Danger. Need to find cover!

  Val tried to get to her feet, but her leg refused to obey. Her body reeling, she rolled onto her stomach and searched for a purchase point so she could crawl to safety. Her lungs screamed. She tried to take a deep breath, finding she couldn’t. The pain started to hit and for some reason, she couldn’t push with her left leg. Exhausted, she strangled out one word before the blackness overtook her.

  “Medic!”

  Chapter Four

  ALL DAY THE BIKES rolled in and out of the store. They barely got the tables bussed before the next crowd came in. Each time the bell over the door rang, Laurel looked up, anticipating Val to come strolling in. It was nearing 5:00 pm, and Val’s crew was overdue. Laurel looked at Ree who sat rubbing her knee as she ran the cash register. Her knee has never been wrong. Maybe it’s not about Val.

  Finally, around 6:00 pm, Laurel recognized John and Marion come through the door. They looked grim. Laurel dried her hands and walked toward the couple. She kept watching, praying for Val to come in behind them. Val never did.

  Laurel’s pulse raced. “What’s wrong? Where’s Val?”

  John ran his hand through his hair, and Marion put her hand on his shoulder. The couple had stopped here many times with Val. Marion’s voice shook. “Honey, there’s been an accident.”

  Laurel’s hand covered her mouth and her legs nearly buckled. Her mind raced. Accident? She’d be here if she was able. Please let her be ok. She has to be ok. Her stomach sank, and she felt sick. Thank goodness for Beth. Her friend was at her side in an instant, putting her arm around Laurel’s now shaking form.

  John rubbed his forehead. “We just left the scene. Some car ran the intersection from Route 26, hit Val and the two bikes behind her.”

  Even with Beth holding her, Laurel reached out for a chair to steady herself. “Is she all right? Where is she?”

  “They flew her someplace. I’m not sure where.” Tears rolled down Marion’s cheeks. “I won’t lie to you, Laurel, it’s bad.”

  “I’ve got to find out where they took her. Beth, call your brother. Maybe he was there at the scene and can tell us where she is,” Laurel implored. Beth’s brother Mike volunteered for the local fire department.

  By this time, Ree had made her way over to Laurel. “Liebchen, come sit down. We’ll find her. Beth, go make that call. Tilly, call Bobeye to see if he knows anything, and call in a few of the part timers. This day isn’t over yet, but it is for me and Laurel.”

  They led Laurel over to the rockers, and she looked up at the couple. “What did you see?”

  Marion took a deep breath. “She had blood on her face and was thrown pretty far from her bike. They were putting some kind of splint on her right arm. They put her on a backboard and strapped her down. Her helmet was still on, but they cut the visor away. She was wearing her leathers, so I didn’t see a lot of road rash.”

  Laurel sat shaking and stunned, taking in the information. She felt like her world hung on the edge of a cliff. She tried to categorize the injuries. How bad is it? They said she was bleeding. Head injury. Anything could be wrong. The panic rose to a fevered pitch, her mind running wild. She said they were splinting her arm. What about her back? She felt hot, unable to breath, and light headed. She had to get to Val. She needed to see her for herself. Sweat ran down her neck. Her chest heaving, she struggled for breath. Tears burned her eyes. She needed air.

  Ree rubbed small circles on Laurel’s back. “Honey, calm down. Slow your breathing or you’ll pass out.” Ree looked to the couple. “Was she talking?”

  A look of sadness dropped across John’s face. His shoulders slumped. “No.”

  “Thunder,” Ree said. “Beth, what did Mike say?”

  “They took her to Morgantown. Mike says she’s pretty busted up, but alive.” Beth stopped at Laurel’s side and put a cool towel on the back of her neck. “Mom’s coming down to help at the store. I’ll drive you both over there.”

  Laurel looked at Beth, unable to say anything. The tears welled and fell in earnest now. She reached for Beth’s hand and squeezed. She found her voice. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get going,” Ree said.

  It took over ninety minutes to arrive at Ruby Memorial Hospital. As they walked through the automatic doors, a blast of cool air hit them. The lobby smelled like industrial cleaner. People milled around, phones to their ears, oblivious to everything around them. Rows of chairs sat filled with people talking. A small food counter buzzed with activity as the attendant filled large Styrofoam cups with steaming liquid.

  Laurel stepped toward the busy information desk, nearly running into a woman in blue scrubs pushing a janitorial cart. Apologizing, she stepped back, allowing the woman to pass. She shook her head, trying to clear the fear filling her body. She turned to her grandmother, her hand in front of her mouth. “God, Gram, how in the hell are we going to find out how she is?” They were unlikely to get much information on Val given they weren’t blood family. All the new privacy laws prevented the hospital from giving out patient conditions.

  Beth squeezed her shoulder. “Honey, try to remember anything you can that Val might’ve said about her family. Maybe we can track them down, and see if they’ll give us permission.”

  Laurel wiped the tears from her cheeks and tried to think. “Her dad’s a professor at the University of Washington. Norse history, I think. There can’t be that many Magnusson’s there that teach that subject.”

  Beth pulled her phone out. “That’s a place to start. Let me see what I can find on their website. Do you remember anything about her mother?”

  “Only that she’s a journalist out there. I have no idea where.”

  “Let’s see.” Beth’s finger scrolled down the screen in her hand. “There is a Professor Hallsteinn F. Magnusson. It’s got to be him. I’ll call the school.” Beth stepped to the side and started to make the calls.

  Laurel and Ree made their way through the line at the information center in the emergency waiting room. A silver-haired woman sat behind the desk, looking something up for a gentleman standing at the counter. After a few seconds, she wrote on a piece of paper, handed it to the inquirer, and pointed down the hall. As they stepped up to the woman, Laurel started to speak but she choked up.

  Ree put her hand on her granddaughter’s forearm. “Ma’am, a friend of ours was brought in by helicopter from a motorcycle accident in Aurora. We aren’t blood family, but that doesn’t mean we don’t think of her like one. I know ya got rules, but she’s got no one around here. She’s from out west, and we’re trying to reach her parents. So, with all that being said, we’re looking for Val Magnusson.”

  The silver-haired woman in a bright-pink smock smiled and looked around. She typed at her computer and wrote on a piece of paper, directing them to the fourth floor. “Wish I could help more. I could get in trouble for even giving you this much.”

  Laurel’s tears began to fall again, still unable to speak. She whispered a strangled ‘thanks’ to the woman, grateful for the act of kindness.

  “Thank ya, and if ya do get in trouble, ya come find me.” Ree, still holding Laurel’s arm, led her back over to where Beth stood.

  Ree looked at the paper and put her hand to her chest. “Looks like she’s in surgery. Not sure what we can do until we get in touch with her parents, but at least we’ll be near.”

  “I’m on hold right now with the university operator.” Beth held her phone to her ear as they headed for the elevators.


  After they reached the surgical waiting room, Beth spoke to the receptionist telling her they were attempting to contact Val’s parents in Washington, Laurel standing close at her side. As she was giving her their names, Beth stopped to speak into her phone.

  Laurel leaned in, trying to decipher the one-sided conversation. She held her arms tight around her middle. The fear turned her stomach over. Her head pounded, and tears continued to trickle down her cheek and drop off her jawline. Please God, let her be okay.

  The receptionist looked up at them. “Did she say Laurel and Marie Stemple?”

  “Yes.” Laurel raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m Laurel Stemple.”

  “Sorry to have eavesdropped. You said you weren’t family. The information I have, has you both listed as contact people in her information. Let me see if I can find out more.” The receptionist picked up her phone and began dialing.

  Beth stepped closer to Laurel and Ree. “Okay, I got through to the operator at the university. She’s going to try and contact the Magnusson’s. I gave her my number.”

  After about fifteen minutes, the receptionist walked over to them. Laurel’s eyes rose to the woman. She felt tears trickling down her cheek and she wiped them away.

  The receptionist tilted her head as she read from a notepad. “Apparently, Ms. Magnusson was conscious in the E.R. and gave her consent for you to be updated on her condition. According to the staff, she was pretty adamant about it.”

  Laurel stared at her in disbelief, trying to understand the meaning behind the woman’s words. The one thing she held on to was that Val was conscious. Conscious enough to remember her and her grandmother’s names.

  The receptionist continued. “Someone’s going to come and update you in a bit.”

  “Thank you.” Laurel bit her lip to keep more tears from falling. Obviously, Val thought of them as important to her. She sat down on the couch beside her grandmother and folded into the comfort of her arms.

  “Our Viking’s tough, honey. Ya gotta believe she’s gonna be okay.”

  “I’m trying, Gram, I really am.”

  She felt her grandmother pull her closer and place a gentle kiss on her temple. Val has to be ok. She still has to take me for a ride someday.

  Waiting without any answers to Val’s condition was the hardest part. Too much time passed with nothing to do but worry. She paced back and forth near the windows while her grandmother looked through an old Taste of Home magazine. Beth had gone to get coffee for them. Her mind was on Val. Her visits were never long enough. In all the years she’d been stopping in, they’d always taken time to talk, getting to know each other in short conversations that veered off into unknown tidbits of information that filled in the blanks. Valkyrie Vör Magnusson. She whispered the name, remembering the conversation that revealed Val’s full name and led her to nickname her Viking. She let her thoughts roam into one of her fondest memories.

  Laurel stood behind the counter as Val sat her coffee cup down.

  Val pointed to it. “Can I get another?”

  Laurel squinted at her. “It’ll cost ya.”

  “Name your price, milady,” Val countered.

  “Val is short for what?”

  Val blushed. “Oh, I can pay that price, but you might not believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Valkyrie. Valkyrie Vör Magnusson.”

  “Ah, we have been graced in our little hole in the wall by a Viking god.” Laurel bowed her head in mock worship. “Let’s see if I can decipher that. You’re one that brings the slain to Valhalla for Odin and … Vör … what was it?” Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to recall a distant memory. “The careful one? Goddess of oath and promises?”

  Val’s mouth fell open. “How in heavens name do you know any of that? I’ll bet I couldn’t find twenty people who know who Vör was.”

  “Majored in business administration. Minored in Greek mythology. I dabbled in Norse mythology. And I read. A lot. I’ve always been fascinated with lore.” Laurel grabbed the coffee pot and poured her another steaming cup.

  Val shook her head, spinning the coffee cup on the Formica top.

  Laurel slid a warm fried apple pie in front of Val. “Here’s to having the most unique name I’ve heard in a long time. Eat up.”

  Looking around the diner to see if anything needed her attention, she sat down beside Val on an adjacent stool. Between bites and satisfied moans, Val explained her father was a professor of Norse history at Washington University. Her mother had been a journalism professor at the same university but now freelanced for the Washington Times.

  “Ok, your turn. Your first name is Laurel. What’s the rest? By the way that,” Val pointed her spoon at her now empty plate, “was delicious.”

  “Wait until you taste her rhubarb crisp.”

  “Rhubarb?”

  Pointing at her stomach, Laurel winked. “Do you have any more room in there?” Val tipped her head in affirmation, and Laurel made her way to the kitchen where her grandmother sat peeling potatoes with a Cheshire grin. Walking over to the stove where a large pan of crisp sat, she pulled down a bowl. Eyes burned a hole in the back of her head. She turned to her grandmother and narrowed her eyes.

  “What?” Ree turned toward the twins working the grills. “Girls, did ya hear me say a peep?”

  “Not a,” Faye started.

  “Word, Ree,” Kaye finished.

  Laurel rolled her eyes at her grandmother and placed a hand on her hip. “It’s what you’re not saying that’s screaming, Gram.” Picking up the bowl, she walked over to the small woman and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re such a troublemaker.”

  “Say what ya will, but I saw this coming long ago in a dream. I’ll just see if it plays out the same.” Ree went back to her peelings. “You go on now, Liebchen, if that don’t knock the socks off of her, we’ll have to pull out the big guns.”

  “Oh, I think she’s already impressed with you, Gram. No need to have her going around barefoot.” Laurel pushed the swinging doors open with her back.

  “Not yet anyway.” Ree wiped her hands and set the bowl on the table.

  “I heard that.”

  Laurel placed the dessert down in front of Val and ran her hand through her hair. She pulled her hair to one side so that it lay over one shoulder. The woman beside her unsettled her, so she calmed herself by running her fingers through the strands.

  Val looked up, spoon held in mid-air, mouth open. The second the sweet concoction hit her tongue, she groaned.

  “That good huh?”

  “Stunning.” Val shook her head and pointed to the crisp, blushing. “I mean, it’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I might be in love with your grandmother. Or at least her cooking.” Val grinned and scooped up another big spoonful into her mouth.

  “Gram is single but unavailable. She gave her heart long ago and even though he’s been dead over sixty years, she still misses him like it was yesterday.” Laurel’s eyes grew soft. “Gram’s been waiting a long time to hold his hand again.”

  “How about you? Anyone have your heart?” Val asked around a mouthful.

  “Gram would tell you not to talk with your mouth full.”

  “You won’t tell on me, will you?”

  “Not a word, Viking.” Laurel smiled, not meaning to give her a nickname, somehow finding it naturally rolling off her tongue.

  “Viking, I like it. When I was in the service they called me Click, because of the camera. Most of the time you couldn’t see my name on the uniform.” Val stared off for a moment.

  “What branch?”

  “Marines. I worked for Marine News, embedded with a combat unit until…” Val stopped abruptly and spooned another bite of the crisp in her mouth.

  Laurel saw the far-away stare. A few seconds passed as she watched the shadows travel through Val’s eyes. Not knowing what put them there, she wanted to pull her out of it. “Tell me about that bike you rode i
n here on. Not sure I’ve seen too many like that.”

  Val shuddered for a second. “I can’t imagine you have. It’s fairly rare. It’s a 1946 Indian Chief. Completely restored. Found it on one of my travels. I stopped to take some pictures of this farm’s gorgeous red barn. I knocked on the house door to ask permission. The owner, probably about Ree’s age, and I struck up a conversation. Believe it or not, it was her motorcycle. What a pistol. She and her companion had ridden all over the place on it before she died. After that, she parked it in the barn and covered it up. Didn’t have the heart to ever ride again without her partner. Offered it to me for a fraction of what it was worth. I gave her more than she asked for and stayed around for a few months helping her with things that needed doing. I was fresh out of the service and had no place to be. I finally got it running, sold mine, and took off on ‘Maggie May.’ The real Maggie died about six months after I left. She and Loraine are probably riding around on the highways up in heaven.”

  “That is an incredible story. Did you do an article on them?” Laurel liked the wistfulness in Val’s voice as she spoke.

  “I did. A whole series called Miles with Maggie. It was pretty popular. I could never get her to take a ride with me, but I did get her to pose, holding an old black photo of her and Loraine with the bike.”

  “I’ll bet she was glad to see someone else keep their memory alive.” Laurel tentatively reached out and touched Val’s forearm.

  Val looked down at Laurel’s hand. “You’ve avoided two questions of mine. Time for you to pay up. Full name, please.”

  Laurel grinned. “You’ve got a mind like a steel trap. Full name, Laurel Anastasia Stemple.”

  “Anastasia. I’m guessing there’s a bit of German in your family?”

  “A lot more than a bit.”

  “And anyone special in your life?” Val asked, a curious smile on her face.

  “No one has claim on my heart.”