The Lost and Found

by Grant Fieldgrove

When they finally changed clothes, packed up their things and hit the road, the sun was almost fully visible behind them. They continued their drive into Provo where they found a motel and slept for the day. Before settling in, Daniel and Jake went to a grocery store nearby and stocked up on food, drinks and of course, Provo touristy t-shirts. With their bellies full, they slept for almost twelve hours.

  Brad insisted Mark take more medicine. They had a long drive ahead of them and didn't want to take any chances. Mark tried to walk to the bathroom on his own, but he's legs felt unsteady, like they would betray him. Jake noticed his imbalance and shot up to give him a hand. Daniel went after them both, and they sat Mark down successfully onto the toilet. Soon they heard the slight splashing sound of urine hitting the water below. Daniel turned the bath water on, pouring in ample amounts of bubble bath. Brad was in the other room, packing up all the groceries.

  Mark sat in his warm bath, completely relaxed. The pain was minimal, which normally would be a good thing, but this far along, was actually quite ominous. Better than being in a hospital though, he thought. He closed his eyes and imagined he was swimming in the ocean.

  When the water turned cool, Daniel and Jake lifted him out of the tub and wrapped a towel around him, patting him dry. Brad had laid out clothes, including a fresh pair of boxer briefs and socks, Abercrombie sweat pants, the new Provo t-shirt and a Champion pullover hoodie. The cowboy boots were packed up, probably never to be worn again. Instead, Mark would be wearing his Ugg slippers.

  They walked Mark out into the bedroom and Brad got him dressed, making sure to squeeze an extra douse of baby powder down the front of his drawers. Jake stayed behind in the bathroom to take his shower.

  When everyone was clean, dressed and ready to go, they hit the road once more, traveling south on the I-15 towards Las Vegas. If everything went well after their brief, and rather darkness-filled stop at Zion National Park on the way out of Utah, they would be there by morning.

  Mark much preferred driving at night. Aside from the headaches from the sun, he enjoyed peering out at the moonlit sky. It calmed his nerves. It truly was the little things that mattered the most to him, now.

  Brad was being pretty eclectic with his selections on music. The playlist continued to rock-on through his iPod, seemingly playing the worst, most embarrassing songs from their youth that he could find while originally programming it. The selections made them all laugh and they enjoyed the nostalgia of it all.

  "Ya think Eazy E is still hanging out at Tha Crossroads, just waiting? Like, I bet he's in shock no members of Bone have died yet. He's probably gettin' pretty fuckin' bored up there" Jake said.

  "Dude, it's a terrible song," Brad said. "Now shut up, I want to listen to it."

 

  He continued to shuffle through a wide assortment of giggle-inducing tracks, from The Verve Pipe's Freshmen to Vanilla Ice's Stop That Train to Juvenile's Back Dat Ass Up. Each song resurrected long-forgotten joyful memories.

  Four hours after they left, one detour and several wrong turns, they crossed over into Arizona. They stopped at a little gas station to fill up the tank. Brad went inside to pay and returned with four t-shirts with a cartoon desert depicted on them. Apparently, according to the shirt, Arizona is HOTT. Two Ts.

  They didn't dilly-dally. In fact, they had all thought the gas station was creepier than shit. Straight Hills Have Eyes status, Brad had commented. So, when the tank was full and their bladders were empty, they were back on the freeway. Thirty minutes later they crossed into Nevada. In the rearview mirror, Daniel spied the sun peeking above the mountains.

  They passed through the small towns of Mesquite and Bunkerville, continuing down the I-15. The urge to stop and the random casinos nearly unbearable. They decided to continue on. Vegas would be much better, they just knew it.

  The sun had fully risen and the day had officially started when the city's landscape came into view. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. They exited on Frank Sinatra Blvd and merged on to the Las Vegas Strip. Daniel opened both moon roofs to help take it all in.

  The buildings towered above them. The hotel's lights burned brightly, even in the sun's squint-inducing glow. It was sensory overload for them. They each gazed in awe, pointing out various attractions and monuments. Mark sat silently in the back. He couldn't believe he finally made it here. It was everything he had imagined and so much more. He couldn't wait for night to fall to experience this orgy of neon in the darkness.

  "Where do you want to stay?" Brad asked, to no one in particular.

  "Anywhere," Jake answered.

  Brad pulled out his phone and looked for reservations while the van cruised sluggishly down the traffic-lined street. "There is a two bedroom penthouse available at the Myra. It should be right down here on the right."

  "How much is it," Jake asked, wearily.

  "Doesn't matter. I'm booking it. It says it's on the top three floors with a strip view. Sound good, Marcus?"

  "Sounds awesome. Thanks buddy."

  "That's what we're here for.'' After a few minutes of typing away on his phone, Brad proudly added, ''Done! I booked it for one night. That's all it would let me do. Oh well. We are good to go, gentlemen."

  The van continued lethargically rolling with the traffic. Mark rolled down his window. "Turn it up." Brad reached for the stereo, turning the volume up way too loud. The music blasted out of the speakers and on to the Las Vegas strip.

  As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I take a look at my life and realize there's nothin' left

  Cause I've been blasting and laughing so long,

  That even my mama thinks that my mind is gone

  But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it

  Me be treated like a punk you know that's unheard of

  You better watch how you're talking and where you're walking. Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk.

  Been spending most their lives, living in the

  gangsta's paradise

 

  They rolled down the rest of the windows and cruised down the strip in their rented minivan like they owned that goddamn town until finally reaching the turnoff at the Myra hotel. They pulled in to the self-park area and left everything behind. They would get Mark up to the room first, then worry about the luggage.

  Jake unfolded the wheelchair and helped Mark into it and the three of them set off towards the hotel lobby. Their heads were held high the entire walk in admiration of the towering structures hovering over them. Once they arrived in the casino, their senses truly did become overloaded. They had never seen such a massive gathering of people. The excitement was in the air, they felt it as soon as the rush of wind hit them in the faces as they opened the hulking glass doors and stepped inside.

  Brad told Jake to wait where they were with Mark, while he and Daniel waited in the check-in line. Jake stood there, holding on to Mark's wheelchair, the both of them just looking out across the casino floor. The first thing that caught their eyes, of course, was the women.

  "Jesus Christ, man, you sure don't get that back in Omaha," Jake said.

  "No sir. You sure don't."

  Two young woman passed by them, scantily clad in cleavage-revealing tops and the shortest skirts they had ever seen. The girls flashed them a friendly smile as they walked by.

  "Good god, man," Jake said, "my pants just got shorter!"

  Twenty minutes later, Daniel and Brad returned, card keys in hand, both of them saying in unison, "Let's go!"

  "Hold on, man," Jake said. "Enjoy the scenery for a minute."

  "What scenery?" Daniel asked. His question was answered almost immediately when a woman in a dress barely covering her ass brushed by the
m. "Oh shit. That scenery."

  "Yeah. That scenery, boys. Just take a look at all the sausage wallets. They're everywhere, too! There is, most definitely, an angle on my dangle." All four of them giggled like pre-pubescent children. "Check 'em out, dude. Every single one of them is dressed like they are on boner patrol."

  "Yeah, they are giving my 'giner-miner a tingly feeling," Daniel said, hardly able to contain his laughter.

  "Dude, they're probably all sluts," Brad said.

  "Maybe so," Daniel said, " but I would much rather be with a slut than some goody-goody, near-virgin broad."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Okay, say you're about to have sex with some girl that's only been with two other guys. Alright, now I have a one-in-three chance of having the smallest penis she has ever seen! With sluts, my odds greatly increase to my favor. See? More confidence."

  "Well," Brad said, rolling his eyes, "as much as I love hearing about your disgusting meat wrenches, can we head up to the room now?"

  They made their way through the masses of people, slowing down on numerous occasions to take in the casino's sights, until they made it to their own, velvet-rope-protected elevator. The guard asked to see their key cards. When he was satisfied, he unhinged the rope and let them pass, like being allowed entry into a posh new club.

  They took the elevator up to the sixty-fifth floor and stepped off into the hallway, turning left to head towards their room. Brad slid his keycard and the door made an electronic unlocking sound. He turned the handle and pushed the door open. The brightness of the room nearly over-powered them. Everything was a pristine white.

  They walked in, noticing a small bathroom immediately to the right. They followed the corridor into a small room which looked like an office, complete with a desk, stationary and a phone. After that came the main living room and kitchenette. All four mouths were agape in disbelief. The living room had massive floor to ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. There were two chairs, a glass table and a large, sectional sofa, all facing a giant fifty-five inch LCD television, stereo and speakers. Just to their right was the kitchenette with a small, round table in the center of the tile, a fridge, dual sinks, a microwave, freezer and glassware.

  To the right of the main living room was a small sitting area, complete with another television, sofa and chair. Bookending the penthouse were two large bedrooms with enormously impressive bathrooms. In each of the closets were two ultra-plush Myra Hotel robes. The boys began undressing, stripping down to their underwear and wrapping the soft robes around themselves, forgetting all about having to go back down to retrieve their luggage.

  After the initial overview, the group disbanded, each journeying to little sections of the room to check out things. From the bathroom, Jake yelled out, "Holy shit! Come check this out!"

  The three of them stopped what they were doing and journeyed into the bathroom. Aside from the shower, steam shower and bathtub that more closely resembled a hot tub, there was a private room, complete with a toilet featuring a heated seat and a bidet.

  "I'm never wiping Mark's ass again. Why didn't we think of this in the first place?"

  "Dude," Mark said. "That's amazing." They watched, wide eyed, as Jake pushed the button, sending a stream of water from the bottom of the bowl, up and over the rim and splashing on the tile floor.

  "Dude, I cannot wait to get a case of the drop-offs!" Jake said. Laughter filled the bathroom.

  "Come on, guys, we need to get the luggage," Brad said.

  "Aw man, you mean we need to get dressed?"

 

  "Nope, as far as I know, in Vegas, you can do anything. Let's go in our robes."

  "Right on," Jake said, still in wonderment over the magical toilet.

  They helped Mark to the sofa, handed him the remote and walked out the door. They reached the casino floor, walking out amongst the sea of people without feeling the slightest bit of shame about being barely clothed. They walked outside and down to the parking garage without so much as catching another's gaze in their direction. They untied the rope from the van, pulled the tarp off and grabbed the three suitcases from the top. They grabbed Mark's suitcase and medicine bag from inside the van, replacing the empty spot with the wadded up tarp and rope, then began their walk back to the hotel.

  When they returned, Mark was still sitting on the sofa, mindlessly swimming the channels.

  "Welp," Daniel said, "I am ready for a nap. How 'bout you guys?"

  "Agreed," Brad said. "Two beds, two sofas. Mark, you get a bed of course and-"

  "Actually," Mark interrupted, "I'm perfect right here. This sofa is amazing."

  "You sure?"

  "Positive. I'll take a bed tomorrow night. We can switch off."

  "Alright,'' Brad said, not bothering to remind his friend they only had the room for one night. ''I'll take the other sofa then, you two can have the beds."

  "Cool," Jake said, removing his robe, revealing his still cut-up stomach and singed thighs. "Night suckas, see you in when the sun goes down and the excitement rises."

  Brad hit the button on the wall controlling all the rooms' gadgets, sending the curtains closed and blocking out all sunlight. When everyone was settled, each room had a television on and glassy-eyed man child lying listlessly in front of it. Eventually, they each began to doze off.

  Nightfall came and the gang started waking up. Jake was first, for the first time ever, followed by Brad and Daniel. Mark continued to sleep soundly on his sofa, a rerun of The Simpsons playing on the television before him.

  "Let him sleep," Brad said. "We can get ready quietly. You guys can shower first. I can wait. No biggie."

  "Alright," Jake said, "I'm going to try out that steam shower. Seems pretty badass. First I'm going to sit down to take a leak, though. Hello heated toilet seat!"

  "What an idiot," Daniel said. "Actually, wait. Yeah, I'll do that, too." They each retreated to their respective bathrooms and closed the doors. Brad returned to his sofa and flipped through the channels until he found The Simpsons. Mark began coughing loudly from the other room.

  Brad got up to go check on him. He was still sleeping but coughing wildly. The coughs sounded different, though. Before they always seemed dry and painful. These coughs seemed moist and phlegmy. He did not know if this was a good sign or bad. He got the medicine ready, laid it out on the table in front of where Mark napped, and sat down beside him, half watching the TV, half watching Mark.

  Jake emerged from the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist. Somehow his burns managed to look worse before they were clean.

  "Dude, those things look brutal. Do they still hurt?"

  "They're more annoying than anything. The cuts on my feet hurt the most just because they won't seem to heal. I've had bloody socks every day since we started this shindig. He still sleeping?"

  "Yeah. He started coughing pretty badly a few minutes ago. Gross wet coughs, not like his normal old lady coughs. Don't know what that means. Keep on an eye on him while I shower?"

  "Of course. Check out the steam shower first, though. It takes a few minutes to get going but once it does, its badass."

  "Will do. Thanks." Brad walked in to bathroom, shut the door and undressed. He stepped in to the steam shower and was instantly confused by it. He began turning the knobs. "Come on, man. If fucking Jacob can figure this out, you can." He fucked around with the knobs randomly for two more minutes then just gave up. He stepped out of the steaming area and into the shower proper. While washing his hair, the steam began to shoot out from the vents. "Fuckin finally. Shit."

  In the living room, Jake sat watching The Simpsons while Mark lay coughing next to him. He
was unsure if he should wake him up or let him sleep. He eventually decided to wake him. He put his hand on his shoulder and gently shook. "Hey buddy, wake up. You're coughing real bad."

  "I'm going...-"

  "What dude? You're going? Oh fuck. Dude, are you okay? Wake up." He shook harder. Mark mumbled something Jake couldn't understand, then rolled over on his back, his eyes flickering open. "You're going where, dude?"

  His eyes opening and shutting, he asked, "What?"

  "You said 'I'm going...' Going where? Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. I was dreaming I guess." He rubbed his eyes, clearing the crusted up pieces of sleep away. He continued to cough. Daniel came out to join them.

  "You okay, dude?" Daniel asked.

  "I'm fine. I need some water."

  "You got it." Daniel walked to the bar and got a glass. "You know what, I'm going to walk to the ice machine. You love your ice."

  "Oh man, that sounds great. Thanks."

  Daniel grabbed the ice bucket and his keycard and walked out the door.

  "What kind of medicine do you need?" Jake asked.

  "I don't know. I don't feel awful, it's just the cough. It's brutal."

  "It sounds brutal. Brad's in the shower. He'll know what to give you. Just hold up for a few more minutes."

  "No sweat."

  They heard the door unlock and in walked Daniel.

  "Shit man, that was fast."

  "Ice machine was right next door. They don't want the penthouse people to walk, apparently." He grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim with ice, snapped open a bottle of water and poured it in. "Here ya go."

  Mark sat up and took his water. "Thanks."

  "You're welcome. Let's check out this view," Daniel said and he pressed the OPEN CURTAINS button on the wall. The drapes parted to reveal a vivid cornucopia of scintillant fluorescent setting the night's sky ablaze with its lambent effervescence. The three of them looked on in wonder as the city below them came alive before them.

  Brad came out wearing his shorts, toweling dry his short black hair, becoming awestruck at the surprising sight. "Good God, it's lighter now than it was in the day time." He walked to the window and looked down upon the city. "That is quite the sight, isn't it. Now I know why everyone wants to come here."

  "Yeah, seeing it in the movies really doesn't do it justice, does it?" Daniel said.

  "No. Not at all."

  Mark began coughing again, moisture flecking his hand as he covered his mouth. "Shit. They're never usually this wet. Gross."

  "Let's get you some medicine, homes." Brad said as he picked up some bottles. "I really have no idea what you should take for the cough, though."

  "Give me half a dose of the regular morphine. It won't knock me out and it helps me breath."

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure. Trust me. I really want to go downstairs and check some stuff out."

  "Alright man." He opened the bottle and pulled out the dropper, filling it half way. Mark opened his mouth and lifted his tongue. Brad squeezed the plunger and the morphine dripped out. "There buddy. How about a bath before we go out?"

  "Not a bad idea. All of us can fit in that tub."

  "Let me get a few drinks in me first," Jake said, causing everyone to laugh again. He bent over and picked up Mark, Daniel helping. Brad went into the bathroom and started the water in the tub.

  "Dude," Brad said, "wait til you see all the bath salts and shit they have in here." Not knowing anything about such luxuries, Brad opened them all and dumped them in the water. They stripped down Mark and stood with him while the water filled the room.

  "Hey look, Mr. Happy looks a little happier today," Jake said.

  "Why are you looking at my junk?"

  "Dude," Daniel said, "this has got to be the most penis-filled trip a group a straight dudes have ever taken. Ever. In history. Brad, you're next, stud."

  "Like Jake said, let me get a few drinks in me."

  "Good lord," Mark said, "this conversation took an awkward turn. I'm naked in a room of dudes and I'm the least gay one. How does this even work?" Laughter again. Brad turned the water off and all three of them helped Mark in. "This water smells like fancy vagina."

  "You're welcome," Brad said.

  When everyone was dressed, they loaded Mark back into his wheelchair and headed down to the casino. Brad hit up the ATM Machine and took out his maximum of one-thousand dollars. He checked the time on his phone. It was nine pm. He guessed, in two hours, it would be midnight in Omaha and he would be able to get out more money. The grand would have to do for now. He was here to send his friend out in style. He was working with, pretty much, free money. It was time to have fun. He handed two one-hundred dollar bills to each of his friends. "This is to get us started. More to come in a few hours if we need it. Much more to come tomorrow afternoon if I can find a BofA."

  "You sure, man?" Jake asked.

  "Yeah, you don't have to give us money," Daniel added.

  "Fuck that. It's time to have fun. Who wants to hit the strip?"

  "I do," Mark said, still fending off his cough.

  "Great, let's try not to stay outside for too long though. You don't have any blankets or anything."

  They hit the exit and walked out to the brightly illuminated strip. They had no idea even which direction to walk. It was all too much to take in.

  "Which way, Marcus?" Jake asked as he pushed the wheelchair.

  "Um. Right?"

  "Right it is, my good sir." Jake rocked the chair back on its two rear wheels, popping a wheelie for Mark, then turned right and began walking. They came across the statue of liberty.

  "Dude, this shit is crazy," Mark said. "Look, there is a castle across the street. And a pyramid. Let's go to the castle."

  "Sounds good," Brad said, and off they walked. They took the elevator up to raised walkway, entered New York, New York, cut through the corner of the casino, past Coyote Ugly and out the other side, where they crossed another walkway and stepped onto a moving sidewalk, carrying them away to the fictitious Camelot.

  This casino, they noticed, was far less occupied than the Myra. They all agreed to stay here a while and press their luck. They strolled down to the casino and took a look around. They didn't even know where to begin.

  "What do you guys want to play?" Mark asked.

  "It's up to you, bro."

  "Shit, um. Well, the only thing I know how to play is blackjack."

  "Blackjack it is, then!" They strutted around the playing floor for a few minutes, trying to find a table with enough available seats to fit them. They finally found one. It was low enough for Mark to stay in his wheelchair, so Jake removed a chair and pushed him up to the table, then they each took their seats around him.

  The dealer welcomed them and they each greeted him back. His name tag gave his name as Danny, From Las Vegas. "Hey, that's my name, too."

  "What a coincidence,'' the dealer said, flatly. ''Are you going to buy some chips or...?"

  "Oh yeah, sorry. We're from out of town."

  "You don't say?"

  Everyone reached into their pockets and removed their cash. Brad attempted to hand the dealer his money before sharply being told he must lay it on the felt. "My bad. Geez, sorry."

  When everyone had their chips, they laid down their first bet. No one had any clue what to do. They all ended up losing. A waitress came around, asking if anyone wanted drinks. Brad ordered a vodka red bull, Daniel a bud light and Jake a Newcastle. Daniel asked for a bottle of water and a cup of ice. Brad opened his wallet and asked how much th
e drinks would be.

  "Honey," the waitress said, "they're complimentary if you're playin'."

  "They're free?" Daniel asked with surprise.

  "Feel free to tip me, though," she said as she walked back to the bar.

  "No fucking way, dude," Jake said. "Free drinks! Fuck yeah. Perhaps there is a heaven!"

  The dealer was growing wearisome of his table of players. "Would anyone actually like to place a bet or shall we just chit chat and use curse words?"

  "Oh shit, sorry bro."

  They set out their bets and all lost again, this time not even getting a chance to play. The dealer flipped over a blackjack. Brad wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the dealer smirk a bit. Asshole, he thought.

  "Well, this isn't very much fun," Jake said. "We need free drinks, stat!"

  The time passed quickly. What had seemed to be around thirty minutes was, in reality, three hours. The free drinks had been coming at a steady pace and their luck had fluctuated nicely, allowing them all to stay in the game on the hundred dollars they each set out. Dealers had been shuffled around several times. All of them friendly, except the one they started with.

  Brad hadn't realized just how drunk he was when Danny Dealer made his rounds back to their table and began dealing their cards again. Brad had become on fire. Winning multiple hands in a row and being too drunk to care about his recklessly large bets.

  "Hey Denny! Why don't you serve me up a decent hand for a change!" Brad yelled.

  "Dude," Mark whispered, "His name is Danny. Just like our friend. Danny. Not Denny. And he is making you a shit ton of money."

  "Fuckin DENNY! God!" Brad said, with unwarranted rage as the dealer had just dealt him his third 21 in a row. His friends tried to explain to him that he was winning. A lot. Brad didn't care though. For some reason, he just hated this dealer.

  "Hey DENNY! How about you give me a grand slam breakfast instead of all these shitfuck hands you've been pawning off on me! DENNY!"

  "How about you give me a tip, you cheap, drunk bastard?"

  Everyone's faces around the table recoiled in shock.

  Brad marched on. "Oh man, Denny wants to talk some shit, huh Denny? Maybe I'd tip you if you'd throw me some decent cards for a change, DENNY!"

  "I've made you several thousand dollars."

  "Oh whoopty woo, several thousand, huh Denny? Here Denny, here's five dollars, DENNY!" Brad grabbed a red chip and rolled it along the felt.

  Brad's friends, while also drunk, excluding Mark, really wanted to get up and leave, get some food, but recognized his ludicrous winning streak. They kept telling each other one more hand, one more hand, but he just kept winning. And, God damn it, it was making them laugh. Hard.

  "Come on, DENNY! Show me what you got. I think...You think, you're so bett-er than me. Well, come on, DENNY!"

  Danny Dealer turned to Mark, the only sober one, and said, "This guy is a real fucking asshole."

  "He has his moments," Mark replied.

  "What's that Denny? What about my asshole?"

  "Okay, bro, it's time to go," Daniel said. Out of politeness to the dealer, all of them were doing their best not to laugh, but containing it proved to demand quite the effort. Once they were up from the table and had gathered all of Brad's thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of chips, all of them started cracking up hysterically. Hard, tear inducing laughter.

  "Come on, man, we need to get some food," Jake said, slurring his words. "There is a buffet upstairs. Le's goooooo." He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and they maneuvered their way onto the escalator, getting off on the second floor which was mainly filled with restaurants and mock-carnival games.

  "How about The Roundtable Buffet?" Daniel asked.

  "Yeah, fine with me," Jake said, heading towards the restaurant straight ahead. Jake was about to order four plates when Brad barged in front of him.

 

  "I got this one, ladies. FOUR!" He yelled to the cashier, perhaps a decibel or two too loud.

  "Okay sir, that will be eighty-eight dollars," the girl told him.

  "No! I said FOUR!"

  "Yes. Four. I can hear, sir. Eighty-eight dollars."

  "No. FOUR!" Brad said sloppily, while lamely attempting to hold up four fingers.

  "Jesus Christ," Jake said, stealing Brad's wallet from his back pocket and removing a hundred dollar bill.

  "Here you go. Pardon him. He's a bit...lost."

  "Sadly, I have dealt with worse. Much much worse," the cashier said, handing Jake a receipt. "Keep this on your table, okay."

  "You got it, darlin. Thanks."

  The four of them made their way through the maze of line barriers, Mark and his driver having quite a bit of difficulty managing the maneuvers, before realizing there was a bypass line for wheelchairs. "Oh well," Mark said.

  They reached the buffet tables which proved to be just about the largest gathering of food any of them had ever laid their eyes on. Two massively long rows, each double sided, which came to a T at the end, jetting off in both directions with even more food. They each grabbed a tray, save for Mark whose small plate shared a tray with Daniel, and began working their way down the chow line. By the time they made it back to their table, each had a piled-high plate with seemingly-random, eclectic selections of food.

  Mark picked at the fruit he had chosen, while the others, brains still quite unbalanced from their inebriation, dug in like pigs. "Anyone else find it kinda funny that in a place called The Roundtable Buffet, every single table is rectangle?" Jake asked.

  "Eating. Shu'p," Brad said, shoveling a heaping forkful of turkey and mashed potatoes down his gullet. "Hey what the fuck?"

  "What?" Daniel asked.

  Brad took a moment to respond. He had become transfixed on a foursome sitting at a booth near them. "This bitch," he said, his eyes still locked on the booth. "This bitch is staring at me!" Everyone turned. Sure enough, one of the ladies, who appeared to be in her late fifties, was staring right at Brad for some reason. Jake had just taken a rather generous bite of his turkey right when Brad slammed his fist down on the table causing all the dishes to rattle, then pointed straight at the woman and yelled "Yeah! This bitch right here! Yeah, you!"

  Laughter broke out at their table with their friend's outburst. Jake tried hard to swallow his food before allowing himself to give in to the hysterics, but he failed miserably. The half-chewed turkey in his mouth had begun its journey down to his stomach, traveling south, when it was suddenly blocked by his attempt to stifle a giggle, thus causing it to change its direction, begin traveling upwards through his sinuses and come shooting free out of both nostrils. The rocketed chunks of slobber-and-booger-glazed turkey landed dead center on Daniel's plate. Mark was the only one who noticed, causing his already painful laughter to grow more prominent. Jake quickly turned his attention back to the stunned woman sitting at the booth.

  "Seriously," Daniel asked, "what the fuck is she looking at?"

  "Look away, lady!" Brad yelled. "Just look away. Don't make me punch that guy you're with! I will do it!"

  Mark knew fully well that he should have put an end to it. The fact that he pretty much refused to only temporarily made him feel bad. It was actually taken over quite quickly with a sudden, euphoric feeling. It almost made him feel alive. Healthy. He continued to watch and laugh as the entire scene unfolded before him, including the moment when Daniel took a bite of Jake's snot food, realizing much too late that something was wrong. When the foursome from the booth eventually grabbed their plates and moved to another table on the other side of the restaurant, he was so exhausted from the laughter he could barely sit up straight or hold
his eyes open. He didn't want to ruin everyone's night by asking to go back to the hotel, but he feared if he stayed much longer his pain would return. He just wanted a bed. He was about to speak up when a manager came to their table and, rather rudely, escorted them off the premises, telling them they were lucky he didn't call the cops.

  "More like, YOU'RE LUCKY!" Brad yelled, making no sense whatsoever.

  "Fucking children," the manager said, now being escorted by three large security guards. "Grow up, gentlemen."

  "Don't touch my friend, fucknards!" Brad yelled to a guard who, apparently, had stepped a little too close to Mark's wheelchair. "He's dying of cancer, you fat fuck! And this is how you treat him! By throwing us out! Fuck you, you neckless roll of dog cock!"

  "Dude, calm down," Mark said quietly, still feeling exhausted and now quite embarrassed. Or was it ridiculous happiness? He wasn't quite sure.

  After leaving the building, they walked to the strip and hung a left, heading back to their hotel. "What the hell do I do with my pocket full of...kryptonite, owwwww!"

  "What?" Daniel asked.

  "Chips. I mean, my chizips, negro!"

  "We'll go back tomorrow and cash them in. I think I heard someone say you can cash them in at other casinos, too. We'll see. Walking is hard. Shee-it."

  "Yeah man, I'm beat. I can't even feel my legs," Jake said. "I think I drank a wee-bit too much."

  "Le's get more drink for th'walk," Brad mumbled.

  "Yeah, alright,'' Daniel said as he ducked into a convenience store they happened to be passing. "Wait here. I got this. Marcus, water?"

  "Please," he answered softly, barely staying awake. Daniel returned moments later with a plastic bag. He reached in, grabbed Mark's water, twisted the cap off and handed it to him. "Thanks."

  "No sweat. For the rest of you assholes I got some drink called Four Locos. No idea what it is but it sounded funny. Here you go, ese." He passed the cans off.

  Jake was the first to take a swig. "Oh god, it tastes like someone drank a bunch of Tang and then pissed it in to this can!"

  "Oh yeah?" Brad asked, popping the top on his and taking a gulp. "Hey, it does!" Despite the objections to its taste, they all three polished off their cans on the way back. Once back at The Myra, the earth seemed to be shuffling beneath their feet. Whatever was in a Four Loco, while foul tasting, had fucked them up. Badly. They stumbled towards the elevator, Brad actually running into the security guard blocking their way.

  "Oh shizzz, sorry son. We gots to gets to our roooooooom."

  "I'm going to need to see your key, sir." The guard instructed.

  "I got my key riiiii here!" Brad said, digging deep into this pocket, spilling out several hundred dollar chips before successfully fishing out the object of his search. He held the key card up for the guard to see then licked the backside of it, for no real reason at all. The guard undid the rope, a disgusted look on his face, and let the group pass. Mark was fast asleep despite the fact he had been steered into a wall on more than one occasion since the Four Locos had hit home on Daniel.

  They traveled upwards, eventually arriving at their room. They lifted Mark from his chair and laid him in bed then they each gravitated to the closest available source of comfort.

  Mark woke himself up soon after being placed in bed. His cough was agonizing. He felt weak, the weakest he'd felt in a while. A few times throughout the night he was almost sure death was imminent. His throat hurt worse and worse with each passing bark. It was bone dry. He could feel his inflated uvula stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could produce no moisture to release it. He began to taste blood. He coughed more and more, the bitter sapor of blood growing stronger. He looked at his pillowcase. It was spotted with flecks of crimson so dark it looked black in the low light of the room. He reached clumsily towards the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand. It was just out of reach. He rolled to his side, the pain surging through his body like an electrocution, to further his reach. With the tip of his fingers he limply grabbed the bottle. He was too weak to keep his grasp and the bottle fell to the floor, spilling the water on the plush beige carpet below.

  This is it, he thought. This is how I die. In a Las Vegas hotel room so close to our destination.

  His eyes slammed slut as the imposing light flashed on. He heard voices but they were far off. He felt hands on him. Whose, he did not know. His coughing continued, each one more painful than the last. Blood dripping down his throat. Blood escaping via his parted lips. He began to choke. A foreign liquid had begun rolling down his esophagus. His face was wet. Someone was pouring water in his mouth.

  Brad was on the bed, both knees on either side of Mark, holding him down while Jake poured the water into Mark's mouth. Both of their faces were flecked with blood spots. Daniel was in the bathroom getting a washcloth. When he returned, he placed the damp towel on Mark's forehead. He had been sweating profusely.

  "Hold on, buddy." Brad yelled.

  "Come on, man, it'll be okay. Just swallow the water," Jake said, being careful not to pour too much at one time.

  "Dude, Danny, I need the morphine. He's coughing and having trouble breathing. That'll open up his lungs."

  "Shit man. Shit. Okay. Is...Is this it?"

  "I don't know, man! Just get the fucking morphine."

  "Please don't die, dude," Jake pleaded. "Come on, man. We're going to the beach. We can go today if you want. You just have to stay with us."

  "Yeah man, you don't want to die in a Las Vegas hotel room. You're not a cheap hooker or a drug addict."

  "Or mob affiliated," Jake added.

  "Yeah. Or mob affiliated. You're not allowed to die here!"

  Daniel came rushing in from the other room with a bottle of morphine. "What do I do?"

  "Fill the whole plunger up; who cares? Squeeze it under his tongue, or as close as possible. Should work really fast." Mark kept coughing as he tried to swallow the water. Brad's face was dripping with diluted blood. Daniel placed the plunger in Mark's mouth and squeezed. "Don't give him any more water. Let the medicine work."

  Jake backed away. "Okay man. Hope it works." His face was streamed with tears. He used the back of his sleeve to wipe them away. He felt helpless, standing there in the bedroom with his back to the window, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Mark seemed to calm a bit. Brad swung his leg around removing the improvised barricade and stepped off the bed. Daniel was still standing over Mark, in total shock. He didn't know if he succeeded or if he fucked everything up and killed his best friend. They waited silently. Staring at their friend. A sliver of light peered into the room. It was morning. They were supposed to check out today.

  "Thank you," Mark said softly. Brad broke out in tears. He made no effort to conceal them.

  "Fuck man, why did you scare us like that?!"

  "Am I dead?"

  "No, thank goodness. You are not dead."

  "Jesus dude, you about gave me a heart attack," Jake said.

  "Me too," Daniel said, still hovering, glassy-eyed over the bed.

  "I think I saw my parents."

  Brad laughed a nervous, happy chuckle. "Oh yeah?"

  "I think so." He clenched his eyes shut then opened them, hoping to regain focus. Brad's face came clear first. "What the hell happened to you? You're bleeding."

  Brad wiped his face with the back of his hand, noticing the red smears across it. "No, I'm not. You were. You scared the living shit out of us. How are you feeling?"

  "Like death."

  "Can you move?"

  "I don't want to."

  "Okay, you just rest then. As soon as you feel up to it we're going to get you b
athed and change your clothes. You coughed up a whole lot of blood."

  "Just give me a few minutes."

  "Take your time. We're not leaving this room."

  "Guys?"

  "Yeah buddy?" Jake asked.

  "I'm a mess."

  "Yes," Brad said. "Yes you are."

  Mark could feel a moist, warm sensation below his waist. He hoped it wasn't we he thought it was. "I think I may have shit..."

  "I know, man." Brad said. "It's okay. Like I said, we're going to get you cleaned up just as soon as you're ready."

  "I pulled a Jake."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  "Hey!" Jake said. "Jerkface."

  Mark smiled and fell back into darkness.

  Brad collapsed in the corner chair and relieved a heavy sigh. Jake slid down the wall and sat on the carpet. Daniel had yet to move. Still standing near the bed holding the bottle of morphine. Petrified. "Well, there's a cure for a hangover. Jesus."

  "Right?" Brad said. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I thought that was it for sure."

  "Me too," Jake said.

  "What did he mean he pulled a Jake?"

  "Um. No idea." Jake circled his ear with his index finger and said, "Cuckoo."

  Brad patted his knees with his hands then stood up. "Welp, I've got a few calls to make. I promised Jen I'd check in with her today and I need to call the lobby and rent this room out for another night. He is not going anywhere today."

  "Okay man, we'll keep a watch on him," Daniel said.

  "Take a load off, man, you're giving me anxiety." Brad left the room and walked to the office area. He picked up the hotel's phone and was connected with the front desk.

  "Good morning Mr. Augustine," a friendly woman's voice answered.

  "Hi. Yes. I'm in the penthouse. I forget the number..."

  "Yes sir, I have your information right here. What can I help you with?"

  "Yeah, we've had a bit of a problem up here and we won't be able to leave today. We need to rent the room for another night."

  "I'm sorry, sir, you're room is already booked for tonight. I'd be happy to relocate you to a different room."

  "Negative. We have someone very, very sick up here. We can't move him. It was unexpected. He is sleeping and there is no way we can move him. We cannot leave this room. I'm really sorry. You have my credit card on file, do whatever you need to do. We absolutely will not be checking out tonight. Upgrade the other guy to a better room on my dime, if you need to. I don't care."

  "Sir, all our upgrades are booked as well. We have to relocate-"

  "I don't care what you do. I'm sorry for being rude but we will not be leaving. Also, we need new linens." Brad hung up. He felt like a prick for getting short with the woman on the line, but he didn't have time to dwell. He found his iPhone plugged into the wall, grabbed it and dialed his wife.

  In the bedroom, Jake flipped on the television, turning the volume down low, and swam the channels looking for absolutely anything even remotely entertaining to watch. Something funny, he hoped.

  Mark coughed and opened his eyes again. "It feels like someone is standing on my chest," he wheezed.

  Jake and Daniel stood up and walked to the bed. "What'd you say, dude?" Jake asked.

  "I'm having trouble breathing," he said, barely above a whisper.

  "How about we get you in the steam shower?" Daniel asked.

  "I'm too weak to move."

  "We'll get you there."

  "I'll go fire it up," Jake said, striding towards the bathroom. Daniel pulled the covers back on Mark to discover the brown mess near his waste and far more blood specks than he noticed before.

  "Shit."

  "Sorry," Mark whispered.

  "No, no. That's not what I meant. Sorry." Daniel grabbed Mark's sweatpants and underwear and pulled them slowly, leaving streaks of dark brown along the way. It didn't bother him though. Somehow, someway, he knew he was doing what he had to do. Something he never thought he would be able to do. "We need to get these sheets off, too. When you get out of the shower you can sleep in the other bed."

  Mark didn't answer. He just continued to lie there, motionless. Embarrassed at his situation. I should have just died in a hospital, he thought. Save everyone the trouble of going through this. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be sorry."

  Jake returned from the bathroom, the sound of the steam shower filling the air. "Brad, we need your help," he called out.

  In the office, Brad shot up from his seat, telling his wife he had to go real fast and he would call her soon. They said their I Love Yous and Brad ended the call, running into the bedroom.

  The bed was a disaster, stained with runny shit and spots of blood. In the center there was Mark, naked. It was a horrible sight. Brad was devastated to see his friend like this.

  "We're going to take him into the steam shower. He's having trouble breathing."

  "Okay. You okay with that, Marcus?"

  He answered by slightly nodding his head forward.

  "Alright then. Let's get this done." He walked to the other side of the bed and reached for Mark's right arm. Jake took the left and they slowly lifted Mark to an upright position. The pain was excruciating. He groaned loudly in agony. When Daniel hooked his arms under Mark's armpits, the pain grew too intense to bear and he blacked out, slouching forward.

  "Oh shit! What happened?" Daniel asked, panicked.

  "Shit, he blacked out," Brad said. "Okay, let's just get this done A.S.A.F.P.!"

  Daniel leaned forward into the dark mess of the bed and pulled Mark to his feet, holding him vertical while Brad came around and grabbed his feet. Together they lifted him into the bathroom. Jake ripped the sheets from the bed and rolled them into a ball in the center of the mattress. He stripped the pillowcases off and threw them in the pile then took the pillows into the bathroom.

  Jake, taking a shortcut to the shower by stepping in the bathtub then hopping out on the opposite side, opened the shower door, threw the pillows in, then entered, clearing the path for the other three. They carefully carried Mark in and set him on one of the pillows Jake had thrown on the tile bench seat. Jake had to step into the adjoining shower to make room for the other guests.

  The steam was shooting from the vents, fogging up all the glass in the bathroom. Daniel, Brad and Jake, now inside the steam shower and regular shower, situated Mark comfortably on the seat and closed the door.

  "What a sight this must be from an outsider," Brad said, giggling at the thought of three fully clothed men taking a steam with one sleeping, naked man.

  "Totally straight," Jake said, causing more laughter.

  "Damn bro, this is harder than I thought," Daniel said, talking over the hissing sound of the steam. "I mean- I did okay, right?"

  "Dude, you did great," Brad said. "I'm proud of you. If you can handle this, you can take on anything."

  "I was thinking...ya know, about what Mark said the other night. About us all being lost, needing to be found."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. When we, ya know, get back home...I think. I mean, I am going to the courts or whatever. I need to start paying child support for my daughter. Even if Aub still refuses to see me, I want to do it. It's...-"

  "Dude, that's amazing."

  "Yeah, man, that's great. Now I don't want to kick your ass so badly," Jake said.

  "So says the man that fucked the fat girl to throw up a diversion for the rest of us to steal a terminal cancer patient and a bag full of drugs."

&nbs
p; "Meh, whatevs. Just sayin, I'm proud of you. We all are."

  "Thanks. Maybe soon she'll let me back into their lives. What the fuck was I thinking?"

  "I don't know, man."

  "I wasn't thinking. I was being fucking selfish and childish. Like always. I fucked up. Bad, bro. "

  "Yeah, you did. But you're making the right move now."

  "Shit like this, ya know, it puts stuff in perspective."

  Mark coughed. It sounded much wetter than the previous ones. Everyone stopped talking, hearts beating fast, waiting for whatever would come next. Mark opened his eyes. He was confused. For a moment, he thought he was in the clouds. Brad noticed the look of confusion on his face. "We're here dude."

  Mark looked around, noticing he was naked in a room full of fully clothed men, sitting on a pillow in his own feces. It was hot. What he mistook as a cloud was steam. He had no idea where he was, why he was there, or what the fuck was going on.

  "You're in the steam shower, remember bro?" Daniel said.

  "Yeah," Jake said. "We just kinda, ya know, decided to hang out with you."

  "This is pretty gay, guys."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "So nothin. Thank you."

  "Close call back there, dude," Brad said. "We thought we were going to lose you. How's the breathing?"

  "Better."

  "Good. We're going to give you a bath after this. We thought the steam would help you breath."

  Mark nodded.

  "I'll go get the water running in the tub," Daniel said, opening the door and exiting the steam shower. When the door closed and the bath water running, Brad leaned in to Mark and told him the good news about Daniel. Marks shoulders went slack, his eyes closed and a smile formed on his face.

  When they finished bathing him and dressing him in clean pajamas, Daniel carried Mark into the other bedroom and tucked him in. Jake made a glass of ice water and set it on the nightstand, while Brad wadded up the soiled linen and threw them in the bathtub, running hot water over them.

 

  When everyone reconvened in the bedroom, Mark asked, "Aren't we supposed to leave today?"

  "Don't worry about that. We're going to stay until you are ready to go."

  "I want you guys to go have a nice dinner tonight, or something. Without me."

  "Well, that's not going to happen."

  "Please. I'll be fine. I'll have my phone on me. I just want you guys to go have fun without having to worry about me."

  "We'll talk about that later, man," Jake said. "Right now, you just get your sleep."

  Mark closed his eyes and the others left him in peace. In the living room, the tone grew somber. "I don't think he's going to last much longer," Brad said.

  "I know. You think that's why he wants us to leave tonight? Does he know?"

  "This sucks," Daniel said. "Did we do the right thing? He's in pain. He should be in a hospital."

  "Well, it's too late to worry about that," Brad said. "We need to respect his wishes though. Whatever he wants."

  "This is too hard."

  "I know it is."

  They sat silently on the sofa, staring mindlessly at the television, hardly saying a word to each other. Outside the sun was making its descent out of sight as the bright lights of Las Vegas began burning up the night sky once again. In the bedroom, Mark's phone began vibrating boisterously on the glass-topped nightstand. Daniel bolted upright and dashed into the room, snagging the phone from the table quickly as to not wake Mark. He carried it out into the living room area, still ringing.

  "Shit. It's Samantha."

  "What the fuck does that whore want?" Brad asked.

  "How should I know?"

  "Answer it," Jake said.

  Daniel slid his finger across the Answer bar on the iPhone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

  "Danny?" Samantha's soft voice did nothing but further Daniel's lividity.

  "Yeah."

  "Where's Mark?" She began crying like a blubbering idiot. Daniel wished she was standing in front of him so he could slap her like the bitch she was.

  "He's asleep."

  "Oh my god, I just heard what happened. I'm so sorry."

  "Save your sorries for someone who gives a rat's fat ass, Samantha."

  Her crying grew louder. "Don't be like that. Please let me talk to him."

  Daniel lowered his voice. He didn't want to take the chance of Mark hearing him. In his enraged whisper he said, "Fuck you, bitch. You don't deserve to talk to him and even more so, he doesn't deserve to have to talk to you! You think you can just walk out on him when he fucking needed you the most and you can make an eleventh hour call to clear your conscience?" She was sobbing wildly now. "Fuck you. You're wrong, you selfish whore. I hope you fucking die alone, just like how you left my best friend." He hit the end call button and tossed the phone onto the sofa. "What fucking nerve. You believe that shit?"

  "What'd she want?"

  "She 'just heard' and wanted to talk to him. Where does she get the balls?"

  "Good job, though," Jake said. "You really stuck it in and broke it off. Go Danny!"

  "Thanks." They heard loud gurgling sounds from the bedroom. "Was that his stomach?"

  Jake and Brad shot straight up from their seats and rushed into the bedroom with Daniel to survey the situation. Mark was awake.

  "Hey bro, how you feelin?" Daniel asked.

  "I'm okay," he whispered. "I'll be fine."

  "What can we get you, dude?" Brad asked.

  "I'll take some ice if it's handy."

  "You got it. I'll go grab some," Jake said, leaving the room.

  "Hey," Mark said. "I think I'm just going to sleep tonight. I'm really tired."

  "That's fine, buddy," Brad said. "Not a problem at all."

  "But I want you guys to go downstairs for a while. Go have a fun night in Vegas without having to worry about your stupid sick friend. Go get some dinner, throw a few cards."

  "You're out of your mind if you think we're leaving you here."

  "Guys. I'm fine. I promise. I'll have my phone on me at all times. If anything happens, all I have to do is press a button and say your name and Siri will call you. Just stay in the hotel."

  "Nope. Not happening, bro," Daniel said as Jake returned with a cup of ice.

  "What's not happening?"

  "Mark wants to stay here and sleep while we go downstairs and have fun."

  "Oh."

  "I promise I will be fine. I'm not sending you away so I can die. If I wanted to die alone I wouldn't have come on this trip. Remember? It really would just mean a lot to me if you guys had a fun night out. Just one of you stay semi-sober. That's all I ask. Oh, and have your phones on you at all time. Please?"

  Daniel, Brad and Jake exchanged curious glances at each other.

  "Fine," Brad said. "We won't be gone long though and you better call us if ANYTHING happens. Fucking swear to me. I don't care if it's a cough or a boner, you call us!"

  "I promise. Just go have fun." His body was shutting down. His vision was severely impaired. It was his time to go. He could feel it in his bones and in the hollowness of his insides. He was embarrassed about what may happen. He didn't know if death would take him peacefully or harshly. If he wept in pain, he didn't want that to be the final memory his friends had of him. He would try to hold on for as long as possible but the feeling in his aching gut told him it was a futile encumbering.

  "We're going to make it to the beach, you know," Daniel told him.


  "I hope so," Mark replied. "I truly do."

  "Don't worry," Brad said. "We will. I promise."

  "I can't wait. I mean that. In fact, I want to get there more than anything." After a brief period of silence, Mark encouraged them to go, again. They agreed.

  Daniel, Brad and Jake got dressed and made sure everything was set up for Mark and within his reach, then took the elevator to the casino level and exited, a pit in each of their stomachs.

  "He's right," Jake said, finally breaking a much-too-long silence. "If he wanted to die alone he wouldn't be here with us. He's just tired and wants peace and quiet."

  "I hope you're right," Daniel said.

  "Me too. Me too." They stood there in silence for a moment before Jake started back up. ''Hey, I heard someone talking downstairs about some guy here last week or whatever who accidently killed himself in the closet while he was jerkin' off!"

  ''Awesome!'' Brad said, as they all shared a laugh the rest of the trip down.

  They made their way through the grounds, phones firmly grasped in their hands, and headed for a cafe. Upstairs, Mark sat himself up, painfully and scooted towards the edge of the bed. He swung his legs off and used his weak arms to slide himself into his wheelchair.

  He went into the office area, pushed the chair out of the way and wheeled himself up to the desk. He uncapped a pen and tore off a sheet of paper from the hotel stationary. He composed two letters, stuffed them each into an envelope and addressed them with the help of his phone's contact list. When the envelopes were sealed he picked up the landline and was connected with the front desk.

  "Hi. I have kind of an odd request. Maybe you can help." Each word caused his throat to burn. Writing the letters had exhausted him. He wanted nothing more to crawl back into bed and sleep.

  "Yes sir, I'd be more than happy to assist you."

  "I have two letters that need to be sent out. I am in a wheelchair though and cannot leave the room at the moment. They are quite urgent. I also have no stamps. Is there any way you can send someone up and have him add them to your outgoing mail? There is a credit card on file. Charge whatever you need."

  "That can be arranged, sir. I will send someone momentarily."

  "Thank you so much."

  "Is there anything else I can assist you with today?"

  "That'll do it. Again, thank you."

  "You are welcome, sir, and thank you for staying at The Myra."

  He sat and waited patiently. He wheeled himself near the door. Soon, a man came and took the letters. Mark thanked him and returned to the bedroom. The small task had drained him of every ounce of energy. He rested in his chair at the side of the bed for a moment, trying to work up the strength to get in. He held out his arm and braced it on the nightstand. He used his other arm to push off of the wheelchair's arm rest. He was almost fully to his feet when his vision blurred. His heart felt like it was stopping and he began to sweat. His arms buckled and the wheels of his chair rotated away from him. He fell forward, his forehead crashing into the edge of the nightstand, chipping off a piece of the hard, glass top, before sending his body to the floor. Blood trickled from his head as he lay on the floor unconscious.

  I made tonight a memory

  I can walk for miles and miles

  I left a shadow at her feet

  I can see her all alone

  The night itself, a reverie

  I can dream this out for a while

  I keep her lost in lock and key

  'Cause she's just my kind of style

  She takes my hand and leads me in

  It is not over

  She sets the mood so I begin

  And I walk over

  She speaks the word to make me grin

  Can I please have her?

  We grab a hold to brace the end

  This is what I am speaking of

  I made tonight a memory

  Yeah you took me higher and higher

  You make it hard for me to leave

  But I'm coming back to you

  She takes my hand and leads me in

  It is not over

  She sets the mood so I begin

  And I walk over

  She speaks a word to make me grin

  Can I please have her

  We grab a hold to brace the end

  This is what I am speaking of

  I crawl my way back in your head

  To hear you speak and dream again

  To touch your lips from deep within

  A bit like love and heroin

  I'll cross the grave, invite the bands

  Carry you out when the world ends

  I'll crash away and lose you when

  You're in my arms just like the wind

  It's not over, over, over

  It's not over, over, over

  Jake, Daniel and Brad finished up their burgers from the American Cafe, paid the bill and walked back out into the casino. Brad pressed the home button on his iPhone to check the time. They had been gone a little over an hour. "Well, what now boys?"

  "Hell if I know," Daniel said with a shoulder shrug.

  "I don't even want to be down here," Jake said. "We should be with Mark."

  "Yeah, I agree," Brad said. "We did what he wanted. We got dinner. Let's head back up."

  "Agreed, Sancho," Daniel said.

  They made their way back through the crowded casino floor, cutting in and out of sexy ladies and drunk flat-billed, tight-t-shirted douchebags, finally reaching the elevators, flashing their keycard and stepping aboard the lift. They exited the elevator on their floor and swiped their key through the lock. They opened the door.

  "Hey," Jake said, "how pissed would you be to be a black guy with a small dick? Like, all those urban myths and you're the one black dude with the pinky-" He cut off mid-sentence when he realized the room was silent.

  "He's still sleeping, I guess."

  "Well, we have only been gone an hour, dude."

  Brad smiled, "Oh yeah. I'll go check on him. Let's order a movie or something. TV here stinks." He walked into the bedroom and saw the empty bed. He was confused at first. The wheelchair was still by the bed but Mark was nowhere to be found. Panic immediately began to rise in him. He walked softly towards the bed. "Marcus?"

  When he reached the mattress he could see Mark's foot jetting from the other side of the bed. "Oh fuck me! Guys!" Brad ran around the bed and discovered Mark laying face first on the carpet. He reached out to grab him. "Mark! Oh fuck. Mark!"

  Daniel and Jake came rushing in. "Oh shit!" Jake yelled as they ran around to give Brad a hand. "What happened?"

  "I have no idea."

  Daniel picked up the wheelchair and tossed it against the wall, making room. "Roll him over."

  They straightened Mark out on the floor and gently rolled him to his back. His forehead was split open. Blood had stopped spilling out and dried in a horizontal line across his brow. "Oh shit, dude," Jake said, panicked. "We shouldn't have left him. Fuck."

  "Is he dead?" Daniel asked quietly.

 

  "I don't think so. He's got a pulse. Barely."

  Mark's eyes opened slightly. "Hey buddy, it's us. What happened?"

  His voice was soft. Instead of the normal dry, raspy sound his speech usually made, his words felt mumbled and congested. His throat unable to clear the secretions from within it. "It's time for me to go."

  Jake stood back up and retrieved his phone from his pocket. "I'm calling 9-1-1! We've got to get him to a hospital."

  "Good," Brad said.

  Daniel took a few steps back, surveying the situation. Panicking, he began mumbling, "We fucked up. We shouldn't have done this. We fucked up."

 
; Brad pulled Mark up to a seated position. "We're going to get you to a hospital. I'm so sorry." Heavy streams of tears were flowing from everyone. Brad could hardly get the words out.

 

  Jake walked into the other room, relaying the emergency to the dispatcher. Daniel was still backed away, berating himself. Brad looked down at his friend. Mark shook his head slightly.

  "What dude?" Brad whispered to him.

  Mark tried to find the strength to talk but only could move his lips silently.

  "Try, man." Brad leaned in closer.

  Mark began to speak. "No hospital."

  "You are insane. We have to get you there! Now!"

  Mark's right hand rose up and loosely gripped Brad's forearm, pulling him back down. "I don't want to die in a hospital."

  Brad's tears became steady again, dripping down upon Mark. "You're not going to die, dude."

  He shook his head yes, disagreeing with his friend. "If I wanted to die in..." He coughed; a wet, aqueous hack that sent droplets of spittle hurling at Brad's tear-soaked face. ..."hospital, I wouldn't...have come on...this trip."

  "So what, you want to die on a Las Vegas hotel room floor? This is stupid. Jake is calling right now."

  "You said...beach...four hours a...way. I can make it."

  Brad turned to face Daniel, still sobbing against the wall. "What?"

  "He said he can make it to the beach. He doesn't want to die here or at the hospital. This is it."

  Jake came in from the other room. "Ambulance is on the way. Should we move him or wait?" Jake saw the expressions on his friends' faces but could not make out their connotation. "What?"

  "Get the keys," Brad barked.

  "What? The ambulance is on the way."

  "Fuck the ambulance!" Daniel said, joining Brad at Mark's side. He knelt down and they picked up their friend, gently, and placed him in his wheelchair.

  "What the hell are you doing?!" Jake screamed.

  "We're going to Santa Monica! Get the keys!"

  Jake stood there for a second more, collecting his thoughts. Daniel picked up Mark's glass of water from the nightstand and hurled it in Jake's basic direction, not trying to injure him, but to inspire him to get the fucking lead out! Jake snapped to and ran back into the other room just as the glass shattered against the television.

  Mark's pain was intense. He moaned loudly while sitting in his chair. He couldn't stay upright. Brad turned the chair around, grabbed the morphine and they headed towards the living room. Jake grabbed the keys from the table. "What about our stuff?"

  "Fuck our stuff!" Daniel snapped.

  They pushed their way out into the hall and down to the elevator. They exited on the bottom floor and began a mad dash through the still-crowded casino and burst out into the cool Las Vegas night. They continued their sprint towards the parking garage, the jerky movements causing Mark to slip in and out of consciousness. They went unnoticed when they arrived but were now drawing quite the interesting glances. Jake ran into a woman, sending them both to the ground. The three continued on as Jake offered his sincere apologies, got up and continued his sprint.

  They reached the van, hit the buttoned key and waited for the door to slide open. Brad hopped in the backseat and grabbed Mark's arms, lifting him from his chair as Jake and Daniel pushed him upwards. The pain was unbearable for Mark but he did his best to conceal it. This was his wish. He did not need his friends feeling any worse about their situation. Brad climbed into the driver's seat while Daniel and Jake got Mark situated and started the engine. It roared to life. He checked the fuel gage. They had half a tank. They would never make it without stopping. Shit, Brad thought, slamming his fists on the steering wheel. "Let's go!"

  Daniel stepped out of the backseat and opened the passenger's side door and sat down. Jake slid his door shut and continued getting Mark situated as Brad threw the gear into reverse and tore ass out of the garage. The traffic was light on the strip. They followed the signs until they reached the I-15 South. The freeway was barren in the late night hour. Brad had the gas petal touching floorboard. He hoped they would not get pulled over. The minivan inched towards the 100 marker on the speedometer.

  They blasted through Primm without giving it a second thought and entered California a mere twenty-five minutes after departing Las Vegas. Brad watched as the gas gauge needle continued its south bound descent. With less than a quarter of a tank, they opted to make a quick stop at Baker, home of the world's largest thermometer. Brad gassed up while Daniel hurried inside and got Mark a giant cup of ice and a bottle of water, even though he had no realistic intention of either one going to use. Five minutes later, gas tank full, they continued their southern journey at the van's top speed.

  When they passed through Barstow, Mark had slipped into unconsciousness. Daniel took out his phone and pulled up the map to make sure they made no false moves. They couldn't afford to waste any time.

  Jake grabbed Mark's hand. "Dude, his skin is ice cold! We're losing him." Tears began forming in his eyes again. "His leg keeps twitching, too. It's freaking me out."

  Brad turned his head, foot still pressed on the gas petal, "Hang in there, buddy. I promise you we're going to make it."

  "How about some water?" Daniel asked, breaking the seal on the bottle her purchased in Baker. He handed it back to Jake, "Here dude, put this in his cup holder."

  Mark continued to sit slumped backwards in his chair, right leg involuntarily rocking back and forth. Lips so dry you could see the blood pooling in the tiny cracks. He began coughing; horrible sounding, phlegm rattling barks that echoed throughout the van. Jake squeezed his hand harder, "Hang in the, dude. We're going to make it."

  Daniel, using his iPhone's GPS, called out directions to Brad. They merged on to the 210 West, then to the 605, the 60 and finally onto the I-10 towards Santa Monica. It was the early hours of the morning. The streets were deserted.

  "Exit here!" Daniel shouted as they nearly flew by their Lincoln Boulevard off-ramp. Brad jerked the van's steering wheel hard to the right, narrowly making the turn. The sharp movement awoke Mark. He was confused, disoriented. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even move. The van continued to race down Lincoln, past the 3rd Street Promenade, as the ocean came into view. "Holy shit, dude."

  Brad tried to slam on the break but was a moment too late. The van skidded into a city fire hydrant, destroying it. Water shot up at the undercarriage of the van at a ferocious pressure, filling the inside with a thunderous detonation. He threw the gear into park and he and Daniel opened their doors and stepped out into the puissant flood beneath them.

  Daniel slid open the side door. Jake was kneeling, looking at Mark. "Dude, his skin is blue."

  "Grab him," Brad commanded.

  Jake clenched his eyes shut, reached out and rocked Mark forward into his arms. He backed out of the van, stepping foot in the massive puddle. Water was shooting from under the car in every direction. He took a step backwards onto the curb, still supporting Mark's entire slacked weight. Daniel began pulling on the folded wheelchair, trying desperately to remove it from the van.

  "It's stuck! God damn it!"

  Brad came around and began tugging on it. Behind them, the sun was beginning to peak out and flood the night's sky with a glowing, bright orange. In his arms, Jake could feel Mark's slow breathing.

  "He's seriously barely breathing, guys!"

  "Okay," Brad yelled, panicked. "Fuck the wheel chair. We carry him!"

  Daniel turned and grabbed Mark's legs and lifted them. Jake held his arms and Brad lifted the slack in his back. They began to run awkwardly towards the sea, leaving the van's door wide open, half a wheelchair dangling from the o
pening while water soaked the inside.

  They ran across Ocean Avenue, through a small, grassy park and down concrete stairs leading to the sand. Mark's head was limp, his eyes slits, glaring up and the brightening sky, oblivious to where he was. The boys carried him as far as they could through the rough terrain until their legs began to give out. They stopped and set Mark down, removing his shoes so his feet could dig into the sand and watched as he slowly began to realize they had made it. They sat down next to him and faced the glorious Pacific Ocean. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. The sunrise's alpenglow cast over the water making it sparkle like a brilliant diamond on a showcase. The salt in the air pierced through their nostrils making them dizzy with provocation. In the distance, mammoth waves formed and crashed in upon themselves, while up close, diminutive ones rolled onto the shore to meet them and quickly retreated, leaving behind a trail of sea foam that popped in the warmth of the newly rising sun. They sat in awe as the radiant glimmer of the water seemed to come alive and dance like an uncontrolled fire. Landing near them was a species of bird they had never seen before. It hoped towards them carefully, then flew away. As he made fists with his toes, digging them deep in to the cool sand, enjoying this brand new sensation, tears began to flow steadily from Mark's eyes.

  As joy overtook him as his life began to slip away, he managed to whisper a few final words: "We made it." A smile grew on his face as his eyes closed and his soul departed. The others recognized it right away. It was if they could feel it. As tears began to trickle down their cheeks they took comfort in knowing their best friend had died happily, with a smile prominently displayed atop the hollow shell of his body.

  They had made it.

  They continued to sit by their friend, enjoying their final moment with him, admiring the vastness of the ocean before them. The wind picked up, encumbering all other sound and sending miniature tornadoes of sand waltzing along the beach. The bird returned, regarding them with less apprehension, slowly hopping its way up to the group before nestling itself into the sand directly in front of them. Brad smiled at the site of his beautiful new feathered friend and gave Mark's hand one final squeeze.

  "We made it."

  Heaven can you hear me I am calling from a land line

  I need a good connection I feel like I'm losing my mind

  The day is just about to break I think it's safe to say, so am I

  Can you bring my legs to walk even though they're shaking

  Will you get my head to stop all the plans it's making

  The clouds are just about to burst I think it's safe to say, so am I

  Open the floodgates now, let the water come down

  The monster in the closet, when the lights turned on

  Is just a jacket on a hanger and the fear is gone

  And the world keeps turning, sun keeps burning

  We are the lost and found, gonna make it through another day

  Can you train my mouth to shut when I feel like

  talking

  Get my ears to open up and let a little love in

  Lately I'm a ticking bomb and so are you and we are here together

  Can you set my heart to beat no matter what I'm

  feeling

  Will you take the wheel and drive, for miles I've been dealing

  The day is just about to break I think it's safe to say, so am I

  Open the floodgates now, let the water come down

  The monster in the closet, when the lights turned on

  Is just a jacket on a hanger and the fear is gone

  And the world keeps turning, sun keeps burning

  We are the lost and found, gonna make it through another day

  I'm gonna hold it down with the lost and found

  Mark's body was eventually returned to his hometown of Omaha, Nebraska. When the beach had begun to get crowded, Brad picked up his best friend and the four of them headed back to the street. The hydrant and been shut off, the van towed.

  An ambulance came to retrieve Mark and Daniel, Jacob and Bradley had to spend quite some time in the Santa Monica Police Department. Everyone was eventually released and sent back home after a few days.

  When they arrived, Jake went to the police station to turn himself in. He told them it had been all his idea, he acted alone and no one else was to blame. He figured he had been selfish long enough. Lost in a sea of self-centeredness that had consumed almost his entire adult life.

  His stay was not long, however. The Omaha chief of police had received a letter from Mark. It stated that everything that had occurred was Mark's own idea. He had stolen the drugs in a moment of lucidity and he had talked his friends into driving him across country. No one should be to blame but him. He also stated that this should be considered his deathbed confession, which, as the police should know, is admissible in a court of law...he thought. At least, according to an old episode of Dragnet he had watched recently.

  Vallesa, the nurse, had conveniently left out the part of her story in which the sexual distraction had taken place. She had merely told the officers the drugs were stolen and everyone was missing. She had known the gravity of the situation, and while she certainly didn't agree with it, she couldn't help but respect the courage it took them to carry it through. Still, though, she felt she owed him, at least, a punch in the nose.

  When Jake learned of what she did, he called Vallesa to thank her. She was upset with him, and rightfully so. She had been used. Jake begged for the chance to make it up to her. He laid on his charm in epic proportions. She eventually gave in and agreed to meet him the following night for a drink.

  Daniel kept his word. He went to the courthouse and set up a child support payment plan for Aubrey and his daughter. He didn't even let them know. He figured he should give them some time, see if they come around. It was the right thing to do, he knew it, and he was finally excited about the prospect of being a father. That same night, he and his parents sat down for a nice, long talk.

  When Brad returned home, Jeni ran out to greet him, tears flooding her face, Carolyn in her arms. They embraced. Brad kissed his daughter and then his wife. "I want to have more kids," he said, much to her surprise. She laughed and tightened her grasp on her husband.

  "Come in," she said. "There is something you need to see."

  He followed them into the house. Jeni passed Carolyn off to her father and went into the kitchen, returning with a business sized envelope. Written across the front was; Bradley, Jacob and Daniel, c/o Jeni Augustine, with their address below. Brad started to cry again. He recognized the handwriting as Mark's.

  "Let's save that for a little later."

  The following afternoon, the men gathered at Brad's house and opened the letter. Brad unfolded it, noting that it was written on Myra Hotel & Casino stationary. He began to choke up before he could get out a single word.

  To my brothers,

 

  Words alone cannot express the sincere gratitude towards you I am currently feeling in my heart. Not just for breaking me out of my personal cell and taking me on the trip of my lifetime, but for the lifetime of friendship you all have provided for me. Man should be so lucky to have just one friend as good as you guys. I was blessed with three.

  I spoke not too long ago about being upset I was going to die without ever knowing true love. I was mistaken. I had it the entire time; I just was looking in the wrong spot. True love doesn't have to exist solely between a man and a woman. It is formed through connections of the soul. I had it the whole time and it took me my whole life to realize it. Sitting in that van with you guys, scared and excited, clinging to each other, I realized I was the luckiest man alive. The four of us, that is real true love. To have three people in my life who would stop the world to make me happy is a gift impossible to earn. I may be gone now, my soul departed from this worl
d, but I will forever be with you. Helping you in any way I can. I will do my best to watch over you all and I will see you all again soon, my brothers.

  There is a rather large sum of money still in my name, along with my house. Only a few people knew about it. I did not want the cancer to take everything from me, so I hid it. It has been left to you three, to be divided equally. Please do not squander it. Put it to use. Do the things you've always wanted to do but felt you couldn't because you were anchored to Nebraska. I saw the most beautiful sights I had ever seen during my last days and it makes me sad I didn't begin journeying out earlier in life. You guys have that gift. You can go. You can start your own adventures. On me. Go and find yourselves. Be fearless. Do not be frightened of the future, for it is only the past with the lights turned off. My whole life I felt lost, especially since the cancer, but today, right now as I write this, I feel whole. I found myself. As the song goes, I once was lost but now I am found. Truer words have never been spoken. (Sorry for the cheese.)

  Miss me, but do not pity me, for there is nothing about me that warrants it. I don't know if we made it to the beach or not, but either way, just know that I died happy. You breathed life into me that I thought the cancer had eaten away permanently. I hope I can find my parents and tell them how much I love them. I hope I can meet my grandparents for the first time. I just hope.

  I am tired and must return to my bed now. Bradley, please give my God-daughter a hug and kiss for me and tell her she will forever remain a part of my soul. I will check in on you guys often. Remember, death may leave a heartache that no one can heal, but love leaves a memory no one can steal.

  I heard that somewhere.

  Peace be with you all. I love you more than any form of communication could ever express. Farewell my brothers. My family. My true loves.

  Mark Briggs

  P.S. Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. As farewells are necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.