The Lost and Found

by Grant Fieldgrove

When you walk through a storm

  Keep your chin up high

  And don't be afraid of the dark.

  At The end of the storm

  Is a golden sky

  And the sweet silver song of a lark.

  Walk on through the wind,

  Walk on through the rain,

  Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.

  Walk on, walk on

  With hope in your heart

  And you'll never walk alone,

  You'll never walk alone

  It was early Friday morning and the sun was just beginning to break through the confinements of its architectural barrier, casting its respondent glow over downtown Omaha, dissipating the night's cool air and providing warmth for all in its range. It was a single ray of dawn's light that was peering in from the slightly cleft blinds that roused Mark from his drug-induced slumber.

  He opened his eyes and waited for the world to come into focus, giving them a rub to aid in the process. His nurse, a man named Mitchell, entered the room, telling him good morning. Jesus, Mark thought, was this guy just standing at my door waiting for me to wake up?

  "How're you doing this morning, Marcus?"

  Still groggy and unsure of himself, Mark mumbled, "I'm okay," not really knowing if that was a truthful answer or not.

  "Good, good. That patch they gave you should get you through all day and most of the night. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"

  "No. No thank you. Still no appetite."

  "Well you really should get something into your system. How about some juice?"

  "Sure, man. That'd be great. Thanks."

  Mitchell nodded then left the room, returning a few minutes later with a glass of apple juice with a bendy straw inserted. "I'll be here for another two hours or so, so if you need anything, you know what do."

  Mark turned his head to look at the bell sitting on his nightstand, "Gotcha. Thanks again for the juice."

  "No problem. Try to get some more rest if you can. I'm sure your buddies will be by later. They usually are." He gave Mark a sympathetic smile and exited the room again. Mark drank a few sips of his juice then set the glass back down. He fell back asleep almost instantly.

  Brad sent Daniel a text message around 10am asking for ride to the rent-a-car place. Daniel obliged and was at Brad's front doorstep thirty minutes later. They needed a big car, obviously. One that would provide Mark with the most comfort and be able to hold his wheelchair and all their luggage. Brad and Daniel had decided on renting the Ford Expedition, a prodigious land-yacht that would take a week's pay to fill up and approximately six highway miles to deplete. They told the sales representative what they wanted and were greeted with the cataclysmic news that there were no more Expeditions available. Their only other option was a 2013 Toyota Sienna.

  Daniel looked at the picture-board which displayed all the car models, searching for the Sienna. After failing to locate it, he asked, "Which one is that?"

  The woman behind the desk, Deloris, pointed towards the top of the poster, saying "It's that one right there. Very top, far left."

  "The fucking soccer-mom van?" Daniel asked with disgust in his voice and revulsion scorching throughout his face.

  "It's a very nice van, sir."

  "Can you tell us a little about it, please?" Brad asked. "We're actually going to need a lot of room."

  "I understand, sir, and I can assure you the Sienna offers ample room for you and your passengers." She clicked some buttons on her keyboard then turned her attention to the computer screen. "Let's see. It has a removable second row of seats, dual captain's chairs up front, reclining seats in the rear, automatic sliding doors, nineteen inch wheels, cruise control, dual moon-roofs, cruise control, C.D. player with JBL audio-"

  "Two cruise controls?" Daniel asked sarcastically.

  "Pardon?"

  "You know what," Brad interrupted, "I think that will be great. We'll take it."

  Daniel leaned in to whisper to Brad, "Are you fucking serious, bro? I'm pretty sure my dick just retreated back into my pelvis and said Welp, see ya later. You won't be needing me for a few weeks."

  Brad handed Deloris his credit card and told him he would need the car for two weeks, minimum, maybe even longer. Deloris explained all the conditions that went with the rental and handed him a contract which he promptly signed without bothering to even peruse, aside from making sure the insurance was included. He'd seen this movie before. This car was as good as fucked.

 

  They walked outside and, after a brief wait, an employee pulled their new ride around front. He tossed Brad the keys and said, "You gals be safe."

  "What'd you say?" Daniel asked, already starting to get pissed.

  "I said, 'You guys be safe.'"

 

  "Yeah, that’s what I thought."

  The employee made his way back into the shop, and right as the door was closing, added, "Be sure to change your tampons on a regular basis."

  "Oh man!" Daniel popped off, ready to head back inside and beat that smart-mouth little prick half to death. Brad grabbed his shoulder from behind and spun him around.

  "Dude. Let it go."

  "Man, fuck that guy."

  "You can. I don't really want to." Brad hopped in the driver's seat. "Call Jake, dude, tell him I'm on my way to pick him up. I need to swing by my house first, I left my stupid phone." He worked his ass into the plush seat with delight. "Hey, this isn't bad. Check out these badass captain's seat!"

  Despite Daniel's initial displeasure with the vehicle choice, he peeked his head inside and was rather impressed, even though he chose to hide it from Brad. "Yeah, great. Just great."

  "See ya in a few."

  "Yeah, bye mom."

  After swinging by his house and enduring a few cheap laughs from his wife about his awesome new ride, Brad showed up at Jake's house. He appeared to be in shock. "Are you fucking kidding me, dude? We're going cross country in a soccer-mom van?!"

  "Dude, don't knock it before you check it out."

  "When you said van, I was thinking like an SUV, or at the very least, one of those rockin' 70's vans with a dragon or wizard painted on the side or something."

  "A rape van? You want to drive cross country in a rape van? Should we grow thin mustaches and carry around a pocket full of candy, too?"

  "It'd be better that this!"

  "Just get in the fuckin' van, Nancy. We've got shit to do."

  "Fine." Jake opened the door and sat in the front passenger seat, immediately recognizing the captain's chair feature and giving a slight, but noticeable, favorable 'mmm' which Brad heard and chose to exploit.

  "See, I told you!"

  "Fine, it's not bad on the inside. Let's go."

  Daniel was waiting in his car parked on the street in front of Mark's house when Brad and Jake arrived. He pulled the van into the driveway and all three boys exited their vehicles. "Why didn't you go inside?" Brad asked to Daniel as he was walking up the driveway.

  "Dude Nurse is still here. I didn't want to have to talk to him in case Mark was sleeping."

  "Just because he's a nurse doesn't mean he's going to hit on you."

  "I know, shit, I just didn't want to talk to him, that's all."

  They got to the door and Brad inserted his key into the lock, slowly opening the door and peeking in. "Hello, just us."

  Mitchell was sitting on the sofa. "Hey guys, he's still sleeping. Come on in. I'm just about to leave as soon as my relief gets here."

  "You're not pooping right there, are you?" Jake asked.

  "Not that kind of relief, dumbass. When
the other nurse gets here."

  "Right on, man," Brad said. "No worries. How's he doing today?"

  "He only woke up for a few minutes, drank a few sips of juice then went back to sleep. Said he felt okay. Those fentanyl patches are usually good for a couple of days."

  "Do you have more of them in your little bag there?"

  "Yeah, I have everything he needs, as does his other nurse."

  "Right on," Daniel said. "You think I can try one of those patches?"

  "Funny. I wouldn't give you any of the marijuana, but sure, have some fentanyl. How about a little morphine to go with it?

  A knock on the door brought sudden closure to the argument that was about to begin. Brad turned and opened the door to see Vallesa standing there in her scrubs, purse over her shoulder, medical bag in-hand. "Hey Vallesa, come on in. We just got here."

  "Hi guys. Hi Mitchell."

  Mitchell said hello then stood, gathering up his things and making his way to the door. "I'm exhausted. I'll see you tonight. He had some juice this morning but that's it. He's still sleeping and the fen patch is still working."

  "Great. Get some sleep."

  "Don't worry about that," he said, closing the door behind him.

  "Who else is here?" Vallesa asked.

  "Just us," Jake answered.

  "Oh, I thought somebody's mom was here or something. There's a god awful van in the driveway."

  "Hey hey now, that's my van," Brad said. "I'm renting it. Um. My car, ya know...broke down."

  "Oh man, I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. It's actually a pretty sweet ride."

  "If you say so," she said as she headed off towards the bedroom, her eyes lingering on Jake just a few seconds longer than necessary.

  "Dude, she sooo wants you, bro," Daniel teased.

  "Shut-up, man."

  The boys made their way into the bedroom where Mark was just waking up. "Good morning, Sleepyhead," Vallesa said to him.

  "Hey. Hey guys."

  "I'm going to go make you some breakfast. You don't have to eat it if you don't want. Give me a few minutes," she said as she turned and left the room.

  Brad, a little over-anxious, back-handed Mark in the shoulder and exclaimed, "Dude! Guess what."

  Mark winced in minor pain, rubbed his arm and said, "Really, dude?"

  "Shit. Sorry man. But guess what."

  "What?

 

  "We're gettin' you out of here."

  "What the hell do you mean you're getting me out of here? Where are we going?"

  "Santa Monica."

  Mark looked around, moving from one face to the next. "Yeah. Right. Let's go now then."

  "We're dead serious, bro," Daniel said, standing up and walking towards the window, opening the blinds and revealing the van parked in the driveway. "You see that shit, bro? That is top-of-the-line, pure comfort, easy-rollin', Jap-made engineering shit right there."

  Mark squinted in the brightened room, trying to collect his thoughts. "Shut up."

  "Serious, man," Jake said. "We're busting you out of here."

  "I can't just leave. I'm sick. I'm dying. I need my medicine and I need my bed. Besides, they're not going to let me go even if I wanted to."

  "Dude, that van has everything you could ask for," Brad said. "Folding down seats, recliners, plenty of leg room, two cruise controls, apparently, you name it. Besides, I know you don't want to spend the rest of your life in this bedroom. You can't honestly tell me that you do."

  "You're right. I don't. But it won't work, guys. I appreciate the gesture, but I just don't see it happening."

  "Why not, bro?"

  "Well, for one, I need my medicine. I don't think they're just going to hand some over to you so we can go on a road trip."

  "Okay. But, say we figure out a way to get your medicine. All of it."

  "Yeah right. She won't let it out of her sight and it's not like you can break into a hospital or pharmacy and steal more."

  "Dude, you leave that up to us," Brad said. "In fact, leave everything up to us. Bottom line, if we can get you out of here and into that van, fully stocked with medicine and everything you need to be comfortable, will you come with us?"

  "Yeah, bro, and even if you say no we'll just kidnap you next time you fall asleep," Daniel added. "The choice is yours, my man."

  Mark was quiet for a few moments again, trying to figure out if this was reality or another hallucination caused by one of his many drugs' side-effects. When his head cleared and he was nearly positive this ridiculous, fucked up idea was real, he answered. "Yeah, I'm down."

  "Hell yea!"

  "Fudgin' right on!"

  "Hold on, though," Mark added. "You know sometimes I can't make it to the bathroom. I might need help with shit like this, especially when I get even worse. That's why I have, ya know, nurses. And a catheter."

  "Don't worry about that, Brosef," Jake said, reaching into his messenger bag, "we've got you covered!" He removed an item and held it up for all to see.

  "The Stadium Pal?" Mark asked.

  "The God-damn Stadium Pal! When ya gotta go but ya wanna stay!"

  "That thing never worked."

  Jake threw it at Mark. It landed on his face. "Check it out it, my man."

  Mark held up the contraption. It was basically a condom-like, outer-worn catheter and a flexible hose that connected down to a bag that you would tie to your leg. Then, when full, you release the valve on said bag over the toilet. Or wherever. It was originally designed for fat, drunk and lazy sports fans who couldn't be bothered to stand up to piss. According to the actual commercial that aired quite often around the fourth quarter of 1999, a bag of warm piss strapped to your leg would solve all your problems. The gang had found it an amazing idea, so during their second year of community college, they all ordered one and attempted to use them in class, with disastrous results.

  "Dude," Mark said, looking at Jake, "didn't you piss all over yourself in that film class we were taking?"

 

  "That was totally different! It wasn't secured properly and, ya know, I was sitting weird and what with gravity and all, my dick just kinda went south and the thing just, ya know, fell off. I didn't know. But look, we can fix that." He dug into his bag once more, this time retrieving a roll of duct tape.

  "So let me get this straight. You want me to duct tape this disgusting catheter, that, may I remind you, has previously been occupied by YOUR dick, to MY dick, and hope that the end result is better than the last time you used it. That's it. That's what you're telling me?"

  "Fuckin A, right!"

  "Yeah, alright. Good enough."

  "For everything else, we can always pick up some Depends."

  "Dude, I'll wear your little pissy-condom but there is no way I'm cruising around with a diaper."

  "Come on, you've never been a little curious about it?" Jake said, looking around the room at a bunch of blank faces. "Right! Like no one here has considered buying a pack of Depends and just trying them out...for fun?"

  The blank faces turned to faces of mild revulsion.

  "Oh. Um, well me either. That's gross."

  Brad leaned in close to Mark and whispered, "I'm going to get you to that Pacific Ocean, man. I promise you."

  "Thank you," Mark whispered back softly.

  "This is it, buddy. The big shebang. The last hoorah. All for you."

  Vallesa returned to the bedroom with a plate consisting of, what looked to be, a grilled cheese sandwich and some orange sl
ices. "Are you hungry?"

  "A little. Thank you, Val."

  "You're absolutely welcome. Are you set on juice?"

  "Yeah, I've got enough. Thanks again."

  "My pleasure. Ring if you need anything. You boys behave yourselves."

  After she left the room, Mark asked the obvious question. "So how, exactly, are we going to do this? There is no way Val is going to let you take me out of here with everything I need. Christ, she would probably insist on coming with us even if we said we were going to the park or something. On top of that, how the hell are we going to get the drugs. She never lets that goddamn bag out of her sight." His voice began to crack, he was already parched. He turned his head and coughed a painful cough into the pillow.

  "You leave all of that up to us," Brad answered. "We've got this."

  "Yeah, well you guys figure that out and let me know when and where I have to be." He coughed again.

  "We'll leave you alone, man. Eat your lunch."

  "You're leaving?"

  "We'll be in the backyard working on a plan. We'll be back."

  "Hey guys...?"

  "What's up, Marcus?"

  "You guys don't plan on picking up any

  chicks along the way, do ya?"

  The three boys laughed together, Brad finally answering, "No man. We don't."

  "Okay good, because that ride you got us is quite the vagina dryer."

  Now all four of them laughed, Mark coughing uncontrollably at his own lame joke.

  The boys stood up and exited the bedroom, hoping to avoid Vallesa. They didn't want her to thwart their much needed planning session. The clock was ticking and they needed to come up with something expeditiously. They lucked out. While not being able to avoid her, she didn't much care what they were up to as she seemed to be consumed by whatever was playing on the television. That fucking bag sitting right next to her.

  They cut through the spare bedroom and out the sliding glass door leading to the patio. The lawn, they noticed, was in desperate need of a mowing. While the boys often did maintenance on the front yard, they never once bothered to touch the back; the evidence of which was painfully obvious.

  "Jesus Christ," Daniel said, "I feel like Honey, I Shrunk the Kids out here."

  "Yeah," Brad agreed, adding, "we really slacked off in the backyard, huh?" They walked to the patio furniture and took a seat. "Be careful, Danny, there might be scarrrrry, scary spiders."

  "I hate you."

  "Okay, boys. Here's what we need to figure out," Jake said. "We need to, A: Figure out how to get Mark and all of his stuff out of the house without his twenty-four hour surveillance seeing. And B: Get that bag of drugs from Val or Mitchell. Any ideas?"

  "We could drug her," Daniel proposed.

  "Yeah, that's a great idea. Too bad cruel irony gets in our way. We need drugs to drug a girl to get drugs that could be used to drug the girl who has the drugs."

  "Huh?"

  "Forget it. Unless you know of a roofy-guy, which, unfortunately, I do not. Sorry boys, I'm not up on the date-rape scene."

  "Yeah, good point."

  Brad perked up. "You could knock her out!" He accompanied his awful idea with a stern fist into his palm, complete with punching sound effects. It got a mild chuckle from the crowd.

  "And you would feel comfortable hitting a woman?"

  "Oh, I didn't say I was going to do it. I said YOU could do it."

  "Not happening. Any other ideas?"

  A sly smirk formed on Daniel's face.

  "What?" Brad asked.

  "I have an idea. It's terrible and awful and will probably sentence us to an eternity in hell but-"

  "I'm listening," Brad said, him and Jake both leaning in closer to hear the plan.

  "Okay, well, what if Jake, ya know, hits on her?"

  A collected "What?" came from his audience.

  "Hear me out, hear me out. Look, she's obviously got the hots for him. There is beer in the fridge. All Jake has to do is grab two and sit down next to her, offering her one. If she refuses, Jake, just work your magic. We can do it later in her shift and can tell her Mark is asleep anyway and won't be up until long after her shift ends. Get a few beers in her then whisk her away to the spare bedroom. Chances are pretty good she'll leave that bag behind."

  "You want me to have sex with her?!"

  "No, no. You don't have to have sex with her, just make out with her a little, just to keep her distracted. We'll have everything packed and ready to go and as soon as you make your move, we run everything out to the van, pack Mark up, and wait for you."

  "How the hell do you expect me to get out of there?"

  "I don't know. Make a run for it."

  "Dude, why me?"

  "Because she obviously digs you."

  "Why can't you or Brad do it?"

  "Dude," Brad said, "I'm married. Sorry."

  "Flimsy fucking excuse. She's fat, dude. I

  don't want to bone a fat chick."

  "Come on, man, we all know you've had worse."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Don't make me bring up that water polo player from college."

  "Dude, that was a secret!"

  "I know, and I didn't tell it to anyway. Simply stating a fact that you have had worse. A lot worse."

  Brad joined in, "Bitch looked like a fuckin' linebacker. Her shoulders were wider than all three of us standing next to each other. And the legs on her, good lord! She should have been named Thightanic."

  Daniel laughed hard, adding, "Thighscraper."

  "Shut up, assholes. I was drunk."

  "Bullshit!" Brad called, "You were not drunk! We were with you when you met her!"

  "God damn it. Oh well, I guess we've all got to pay the fat tax at one time or another."

  "I don't even understand how a normal man could sleep with such a Thigh-ranosaurus Rex like that."

  "Fuck off. And I don't call my underpants Home of the Whopper for nothing. Punks." The boys dissolved into uncontrollable laughter, before Jake eventually added, "Oh! You were right about one thing, though. This is definitely going to earn us a one way ticket straight to hell. What if she calls the cops when she realizes what happened?"

  "I'm sure she will. We've got to hightail it out of the shit-hole state as soon as possible."

  "Oh god, dude, I feel sick to my stomach."

  "Take one for the team, bro."

  "I really, really hate you guys."

  "It's having a few beers and making out with a girl. Who cares, man? It's for your friend."

  He breathed a heavy sigh and slumped his shoulders, "Yeah, I know."

  The boys sat on the patio as the sun drew downward and the night began to commence, while forming out the kinks in their plan. It was a horrible plan, they agreed, but a plan that would hopefully work. They didn't have the time to think of a better one. The snap in the air was getting worse and they were under-dressed. They decided to end their meeting and walked back inside, Brad setting the track lock on the sliding door, then out the front door to head home. They agreed the plan would take place tomorrow evening and that they would write Vallesa a note explaining everything after the deed was done, telling her this was Mark's last wish. His big shebang. His last hoorah.