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Homeless Once More, Part Fifteen By Cathy Roberts glroberts@bigfoot.com
The men went into the house and to the living room where the rest of the Carter family was gathered. The group included John's aunt, Rebecca Taylor, her husband Charles and their daughter K. C., Chase's mother Mary, John's mother and his sister Barbara, and John's grandparents, Millicent and Robert. Chase was also there, his wheelchair was parked by the Christmas Tree and he smiled broadly when he saw John enter the room.
"Merry Cismas, John," he proudly said.
Tears sprang to John's eyes when he heard that. It was the first actual sentence that Chase had spoken since his overdose. He blinked hard to keep from crying.
"Merry Christmas, Chase," John said as he put the presents under the tree.
"Where Anna?" Chase asked.
"Anna moved away, Chase. Remember?"
Chase shook his head, "No. Anna not go."
"I'm afraid she did go. She went back to Philadelphia."
"Anna my friend. You love Anna. She not go," Chase pouted.
John knelt down by Chase. "Anna cared about you, Chase. But, she was in love with someone else and she went back to Philadelphia to be with him."
"I'll try to work with you so you can remember that."
John looked up to see who had said that. When he had entered the room he hadn't made much attention to who was there since he was expecting to see the usual family members. Somehow he managed to miss the woman who had now walked up to Chase. She reminded him of Gillian Anderson, the actress from "The X-Files", although her red hair was long and curly. She was short and petite, with pale, almost translucent skin and bright green eyes. But, she wasn't beautiful, not by any stretch of the imagination. Still, there was something about her that made her seem very pretty.
"John, I'd like for you to meet Jessica Cantrell. She's a rehabilitation therapist. We hired her to work with Chase and as you can see, she's already accomplished a lot," Millicent smiled at the young woman.
"Chase has accomplished a lot, Mrs. Carter. He's the one doing all the hard work." Jessica smiled down at John, "Chase talks about you constantly and it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
She extended her hand so John stood and clasped it. She had a firm handshake and her hand was warm. John's couldn't keep from noticing that her smile went all the way to her eyes.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. I've always believed that the people at Kenner weren't doing as much as they could for Chase."
"They have a lot of patients to care for and therefore it becomes difficult for them to give a lot of attention to one individual."
"Hey, where's my hug?" Barbara said as she punched him in the upper arm. "I didn't fly from Europe just so you could ignore me."
"Merry Christmas, Barb," John gave her a big hug, lifting her up off the floor. "It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too. Now, you better give everyone else a hug or they'll get upset that I'm monopolizing you."
"Okay." John turned back to Jessica, "It was nice to meet you. Chase, I'll talk to you later."
"Kay," Chase responded.
Jessica smiled, "It was nice to meet you, too."
John left them and went around the room, making sure he greeted everyone. He saved his mother for last and gave her a long hug and a kiss.
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
"Merry Christmas, John. You look very nice. New clothes?"
He grinned, "Yeah. Kerry gave them to me."
"She has good taste in clothes. You look very good in that sweater. It's a good color for you."
"Shall we open presents now?" Millicent asked.
Everyone said yes and she began to hand them out. It was a family rule that not a single present could be opened until the last present had been distributed. John had only been able to afford to buy one present per person, but he had carefully selected each present and he hoped that everyone liked what he had bought.
Millicent looked carefully under the tree to make sure that no more presents remained. "We can open our presents now," she announced. She returned to her seat on the couch and began to open her own gifts.
"Come sit by me." Barbara pulled John over to where she had been sitting on the floor. It didn't take long for the Carter's to open all their presents and exchange their "thank you's" for the gifts. Millicent went to the kitchen to check on the progress of the Christmas Dinner and Robert went to the bar to fix drinks for everyone.
"John, what would you like?"
"A soda will be fine, sir."
"Are you sure? I do have some beer."
"I'm sure."
"Fine. Branch, your usual?"
"No, Father. I'll take a soda as well. I quit drinking alcohol a few months ago."
"Is that so?" Robert was secretly pleased to hear his youngest son say that. He had felt that Branch drank way too much but had never felt as if it was his right to say anything to him about it. "Would anyone else like a soda?"
The women all chose diet sodas while Roland and Charles opted for coffee.
"Mr. Carter, Chase and I would like two regular sodas please," Jessica said.
Barbara leaned in close to John, "I knew she would go for a regular soda. She probably never has to worry about her weight."
"She looks fine to me," John commented.
"You're a man, of course she looks fine to you." Barbara grinned and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.
John looked at Jessica, knowing that he found her attractive, but not feeling more than that. The idea of making love to her held no interest at all to him, and he suddenly felt afraid that he would never have that type of interest in a woman ever again. The room suddenly felt too hot and crowded.
"I need some fresh air." John stood and left the room, heading out to the front steps. He sat down on the top step, resting his head on his knees and taking deep breaths. He tensed as he heard the door open and close, not wanting to talk to anyone. He didn't budge when the person draped his coat around his shoulders and then arms encircled him from behind. He knew then that it was Barbara because she would often come up behind him like that.
Barbara rested her head between his shoulder blades, "Feeling any better?"
"It was stuffy inside. You don't need to baby-sit me," he snapped.
"I didn't come out here to baby-sit you. You walked out on me. You looked upset and I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm okay. You can go now."
"I miss you, John. We don't get to see much of each other."
"You're the one who chose to live in Europe, Barb, not me." He raised his head and tried to look around at her.
"That doesn't mean I like not seeing you."
John shrugged his shoulders, "Get off of me."
Barbara disengaged herself from him and sat down at his side. Their parents had already warned her about John's moodiness, so she was prepared to put up with him.
"I wanted to come to see you back in November, but Dad told me that you didn't want me to come." She still felt hurt whenever she remembered how she had heard John in the background while she was on the phone with her dad. John had made it plain that she wasn't wanted or needed.
"There was no need for you to be here."
"I thought you might have needed the support."
"I didn't need anybody there then, and I don't need anybody now. Just drop the subject," he growled.
"I don't understand why you're angry with me. I'm concerned about you. I was concerned about you then and I'm still concerned about you now."
"There's nothing for you to be concerned about. All of my injuries are healed and I'm fine."
"What about your emotional injuries, Johnny? You can't just push something like this under the rug. There are issues you need to deal with."
"I told you to drop the subject." He stood and put on his coat, then headed down the steps. "Since no one will listen to me, I'm going for a walk where I won't be bothered."
"John, wait. I'll got with you."
He stopped and turned to look at her. "I don't want your company. I don't want any company period. Just leave me alone."
Barbara rushed down the steps, "I'll be quiet and you won't even know I'm there."
"Damn you, Barbara! Why won't you listen to me?" John was now furious, not only with his sister, but with everyone else in his life. "My life and my feelings are none of your damn business. I am fine. I am not going out into the woods to kill myself, so there is no reason for you to go where you aren't wanted. Can you manage to understand that simple concept? I do not want you to come with me. Go back inside and leave me the Hell alone." His hands tightly clenched, John turned on his heels and walked away. He hoped that Barbara would go back in and not try to stop him because he knew that if she touched him, he would hit her.
Barbara watched him walk away, then she wiped the tears from her eyes and went back into the house. Even though she had been warned, she was not really prepared for his angry outburst. Never before had she felt afraid of her brother, but she had been afraid today. She didn't like feeling that way about John.
While Barbara was hanging up her coat in the foyer closet, her parents came out to join her.
"Did John come back in with you?" Roland asked.
Barbara shook her head, "He wanted to go for a walk."
"Alone?" he asked.
"That's what he said," Barbara bleakly answered.
Jenny forced a small smile, "I guess it's a good thing that dinner won't be ready for another hour. A long walk should give him a good appetite."
"John never needs any help stimulating his appetite." Even as Barbara said that, she thought of how thin he looked and she realized that John wasn't eating as much as he should. That certainly explained her mother's worry.
"John and I were talking and all of a sudden, he became angry with me. By the time he walked off, he was furious."
"And I'll bet you that when he returns, he will act as if nothing happened," Roland said.
"Daddy, maybe I shouldn't say this, but for a minute or two out there, I was afraid of him. I really thought that he was going to hit me."
Robert Carter came into the foyer as Barbara said the last part. "Roland, just how much longer are you going to allow this to continue?"
"Father, it's not been that long since John was attacked and a person cannot be expected to recover this quickly."
"He's been seeing that Dr. McIntyre since before he was attacked and every week since then. I think he should be further along with his recovery."
"That's your opinion, Father."
"Don't disregard my views, Roland. John needs better help than what he's getting. I've taken the liberty of contacting some of the more reputable psychiatrists in the Chicago area. They are all willing to take John on as a patient. I suggest that we make an appointment for him."
Roland made himself count to ten before he even tried to reply to his father. Jenny, however, wasn't as courteous. She turned on Robert in full fury.
"You have absolutely no right to interfere with John's life or his therapy. As Roland pointed out, a person cannot be expected to immediately snap back from a severe trauma, and it's unfair for you to expect that from John. The best thing you can do for John is to treat him normally and do your best to ignore his outbursts and attempts to push you away. If I ever hear again that you have been calling around Chicago, discussing John with anyone, then I swear I will take it out of your hide."
Millicent had come to the doorway of the living room, concerned over the arguing that was going on in the foyer. "It is Christmas Day and I will not tolerate arguments today. Is that clear?" She looked from Jenny to her husband.
"I apologize for raising my voice, Millicent, but I will not stand by while Robert tries to run John's life. Excuse me." Jenny returned to the living room, followed by Roland and Barbara.
Millicent gave her husband a cool stare. "What have you done now?"
"I was only trying to help my grandson. I don't see why that should be a problem. The psychiatrist from his hospital is obviously unable to help John, so I took upon myself to find one who can."
"Dear, I believe that Jenny is correct. You need to stop trying to run his life."
"I am not attempting to run his life." Robert sounded truly offended. "I only want John to be happy. If John needs help to deal with his problems then he should have the best help available and, in my opinion, his doctor does not meet that standard."
"Robert, John is twenty-eight years old. I think he's old enough to decide that for himself." Millicent tempered her criticism by reaching for her husband's hand. "Let's rejoin the others."
Out in the woods, John walked aimlessly, hoping that the physical exertion would eliminate his anger. It was quiet and peaceful out there, a quality he usually found relaxing. Not this time though. He knew that sooner or later he would have to return to the house and he didn't want to do that. He could still remember the confused look on Barbara's face as he yelled at her and he didn't want to face her now. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he never saw the protruding tree root that tripped him, sending him sprawling in the snow. He sat up, feeling disgusted as he brushed the snow off of his coat.
"Perfect, just perfect. I can't even take a fucking walk without doing something stupid."
A splash of red upon the snow to his right caught his eye. A thousand images flashed through his head, ending with one of blood splattered against a white table. He shook his head, "No. I will not think about that. Not now. Not here." He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow down his rapid heartbeat and reorient himself. When he once more felt calm, he thought that an injured animal might be nearby. He got to his feet and began to look for other signs of blood. He soon found more droplets, which lead away from where he had fallen. He followed the short trail, walking slowly and carefully so he wouldn't further frighten the injured creature. Then he saw it up ahead: a red fox with something in its mouth. He yelled and ran toward the fox, startling it and causing it to drop it's prey before it ran away. John dropped to his knees beside the small animal. It was a rabbit. Blood matted it's white fur and its sides were heaving, showing him that it was still alive.
"How could you be so stupid as to get caught?" John angrily asked as he examined the creature. It's ears twitched, but it made no other movements. It was painfully obvious to John that the rabbit was dying and there wasn't anything he could do to help it. Except to put it out of its misery. He firmly placed his hand over the animal's mouth and nose, cutting off its air. In less than a minute, the little body was stilled. John felt over the rabbit's body, but wasn't able to detect a pulse anywhere.
"You stupid creature. Didn't you know that you were safe in your nest? Why didn't you stay there? Now, you're dead because you put yourself in danger's way. You stupid, stupid bunny." John wiped away his tears, not caring that there was blood on his hands. "Well, I'll be dammed if I let that fox get you now."
He looked around until he found a sturdy stick with a pointy end, and, after clearing away the snow, he stabbed at the ground to loosen the dirt. Using the stick and his hands, he managed to dig a grave for the animal. He kept digging until he had passed the point he felt would be deep enough to keep out any predators. He pulled his winter scarf and hat out of his pockets and laid them on the ground. He gently put the rabbit in the hat, then wrapped it round with the scarf before burying it. Once the grave was filled, he gathered snow and spread it over the dirt, tamping it down and then adding more. He hoped it would be enough to keep other animals from picking up the scent and digging up the rabbit. John looked up at the sky, wondering how it could be such a sunny day when dumb innocent creatures were being killed. He shook his head as he thought about the continual waste of life he witnessed on a daily basis. Too many stupid people letting the predators of the world get their way, just as the rabbit had allowed the fox to gain the upper hand. John rubbed his cold hands on his pants, not noticing that they were cracked and bleeding from the cold temperature and digging barehanded in the frozen earth. He knew there was no way he could go back to the house now. He began to walk in the direction of the road, hoping that he could hitch a ride back home. He mentally kicked himself for not bringing his cell phone with him. If he had it, he could have called a cab and met it out on the main highway. Another stupid mistake to add to his already long list.
It didn't take him long to reach the edge of his grandparent's property. He climbed the wire fence that separated it from the highway, then stepped out onto the shoulder to see if any cars were coming. John stared bleakly at the empty road. He should have known that traffic would be light and practically non-existent on Christmas Day. He could either start walking back toward Chicago, go back to the house, or just give up totally. The latter choice was beginning to look better and better to him. His life was going nowhere fast and his feelings of helplessness were increasing every day. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card containing the remaining morphine pills from when he had dislocated his shoulder. He had found them when he had packed to move from the apartment and he had kept them in his coat pocket ever since. He liked to be able to touch them, to know that he could take them at any time and put an end to the joke his life had become. He did not like the way he had felt toward his sister earlier and he was scared that he might soon find himself treating Kerry that way. Barbara had genuinely been afraid of him and he knew she had a right to fear him. Just as that poor rabbit should have feared him as much as it had feared the fox. In the end, it had not been the fox that took its life, but him. Oh, he knew that he had been wrong to kill the rabbit, he should have just let it die on its own. But, it seemed that putting it out of its misery was the compassionate thing to do. Maybe it was time he showed the same compassion to himself and those around him.
The only problem that John could foresee was that the pills might not be enough. He looked down at the packet. It had originally held twelve pills that contained 100 mg each of sustained release of morphine sulfate. He had only taken one pill, so that left him with eleven. Not enough to kill him quickly. What if he were found too soon? He had resuscitated his fair share of pill overdoses. Some had recovered all right and some had been brain dead. Others were merely brain damaged, like Chase. God, Chase. John had all but given up on Chase and now look at him. Talking in sentences for Heaven's sake. And John had been busy telling Chase's father how wrong it had been for him to revive Chase in the first place. He was clearly a danger to his own family. He had worked with Chase, but no matter how hard he tried, he just had not been able to help him. Not with getting past his addiction and not with his recovery.
The sound of an oncoming car caught his attention, but since it was headed away from Chicago, he didn't attempt to flag it down. The car was just a little past him when two bottles came sailing out of the passenger window, arcing through the air and shattering upon their impact with the rocky shoulder. The broken shards of glass glittered brightly in the sun. At first, John cursed their reckless disregard, but then he thought that maybe this was a sign as to what he should do. He shoved the pills back in his pocket, then calmly walked over and selected the sharpest piece of glass he could find. This also went into his pocket. Still squatting on his feet, John looked down the road toward Chicago and thought about walking toward the city until he found a secluded spot where he could end his miserable excuse for a life. No, he reasoned, traffic will pick up as I get closer to the city. Besides, if his family drove out to look for him, they would head for Chicago first. He didn't want them finding him. He stood and walked away from his family and Chicago.
One of the Doyle family Christmas traditions included driving out of the city and looking at the Christmas decorations on the houses in the more prestigious areas along the lake. This Christmas, Maggie and Patrick, her father, were the only two Doyles who wanted to make the long drive. This was more than okay with them as they enjoyed spending time together. They were driving through the most boring area, as the houses here were near the lake and could not be seen from the road.
"Maggie, can you pull over?" her father asked, craning his head to gaze back at something they had passed.
"Sure. What's wrong?" Maggie asked as she pulled onto the shoulder of the road.
"I thought I saw a someone sitting back there by the trees."
"Dad, I don't think there would be anyone out here. The rich folk are all inside their houses choking down their meals."
"It won't hurt to look." He got out of the car and walked back. As a cop patrolling the streets of Chicago, he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. As he neared the spot where he had spotted the person, he was gratified to know that retirement had not hindered his instincts one bit. He waved back to Maggie, beckoning for her to join him. He saw her get out of the car, then he knelt down by the man who was quietly sitting there with his back against a tree.
"Are you okay?"
The man mutely nodded.
Maggie knelt down beside him and he heard her sharp intake of breath.
"John? What are you doing out here?"
The young man looked up at Maggie, his eyes full of sadness, "I want to go home. Can you take me home, Maggie?" he pleaded with her.
"Sure. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Are you hurt? There's blood on your face and hands."
John looked down at his hands, numbly noting the dirt, scratches and blood. "I'm fine. The blood isn't mine. There was an animal...a rabbit. I buried it. I killed it." John buried his face in his hands, trying to fight back his tears. "Just take me home. Please?"
"I said I would. Come on." Maggie helped John to his feet, then got him into the back seat.
After she closed the door, her father asked, "Maggie, are you sure he's okay?"
"He doesn't appear to be injured, Dad. I'm going to see if I can talk him into going to the hospital though. I don't like the idea of leaving him alone at home in the state he's in."
"I agree. Let's go."
They got in and Maggie headed back into Chicago. Her father passed back several wet naps to John, who, after staring at them blankly for a few minutes, finally began to use them on his hands and face.
"Isn't Dr. Weaver working today?" Maggie asked, eyeing him through the rear view mirror.
"Yeah."
"I have to be to work by six, so why don't I just drop my Dad off and drive to the hospital? That way, you can catch a ride home with Dr. Weaver."
John shrugged. He really wanted to go straight home, but he would take what he could get.
"So, that would be all right with you?" Maggie asked.
"It's fine," he numbly replied.
"Okay." Maggie headed to her parent's house.
Back at the Carter mansion, people were getting increasingly worried about John. Dinner had come and gone and there was still no sign of him. Roland finally put on his coat and headed for the door.
"Not so fast, Rolly. Wait for me," Branch said as he pulled on his coat.
"And us." Robert and Charles were also putting on their coats, as were Barbara and K. C.
"All of you don't need to come," Roland said.
"We want to come. We all care about John, Roland," his father answered for them all.
Roland nodded and they all went out to look for John. Luckily for them, not many people had been out walking in the woods that morning and they were able to spot John's footprints in the snow. Roland's became even more concerned for his son when the group found a trail of blood that ended in a small cleared area. There was even more blood here, and the ground had been trampled over.
"Oh, God, no," Roland murmured.
"Roland, I don't think the blood is John's. Look, there are footprints leading away from here." Branch pointed them out to his brother.
"It seems as if he's headed for the highway. Why would John...Hell, I should know better by now than to ask a stupid question like that. Come on."
With Roland in the lead, they followed the trail to the highway, finding where John climbed over the fence. The shoulder of the road was relatively snow free, so they were unable to determine which way John had gone.
"Maybe he went back to his house, Daddy," Barbara suggested.
"How? I doubt if he would walk all the way back to Chicago."
"He could have hitched a ride," Robert said.
"Maybe. We had better get back to the house. I know that Jenny's as worried as I am."
The family quickly walked back to the house. Along the way Roland's mind was teeming with horrible scenarios regarding what had happened to his son. He hoped that he was physically all right, but he had no guarantee of that. Maybe they would get back to the house and find out that John had called to tell them where he was. How could he just walk away on Christmas Day of all days? How could he just walk away, period?
Maggie eased her car into a parking space. "We're here."
"Would you mind if I stayed out here for a little while? I'm not quite ready to go inside yet." John said.
"No. I'll let Dr. Weaver know that you're out here. It's getting colder, so you shouldn't stay out here too long."
"I won't. Thank you, Maggie."
"It was no problem, John." Maggie got out and went to the elevator. As she waited for the doors to open, she looked back at her car. John had laid his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. Maggie knew that once she told Weaver that John was there, that she would see to it that he came inside the hospital. The doors opened and Maggie got into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.
In the car, John considered his good luck. His original plan had been to sit in the woods, take the pills and cut his wrists. If he laid down on the ground, no one would see him there. But, Maggie and her father had spotted him before he could do that. At first he had been dismayed at his apparent bad luck. What were the odds that someone he knew would be driving out that way? But, then, he realized that this was even better. Maggie kept her gun in her car. Or, at least she used to. John climbed over the seat and tried to open the glove compartment, but it was locked. It just might be in there, but he decided to search the rest of the car first. His choice was the correct one, he said to himself as he reached under the passenger seat and found the gun. The metal felt warm in his hand and he felt calmer than he had in a long time. This was the right thing to do, but he knew it would be wrong to take his own life in Maggie's car. Deciding to leave nothing to chance, he took the eleven remaining morphine pills, forcing them down his throat since he had no water to wash them down with. Then he got out of the car and began to walk away. He had not gone far when he remembered that Maggie had told him ages ago that she never kept her gun loaded. He checked the gun, discovering that it was, indeed, empty of bullets. They must be in the glove compartment, he thought. Still tightly clutching the gun, he turned to go back to the car to get the bullets. He hated the idea of breaking into the glove compartment, but he saw no other way to get what he wanted. He had his hand on the door handle when a security truck screeched to a stop in front of him. The doors flew open and he found himself looking into the very scared eyes of a young security guard.
"Please step away from the vehicle," the guard ordered.
John knew that the man had not seen the gun, and as he backed away from the door, he raised his arm. The guard paled, then said something to his partner. Both men immediately drew their own guns.
"Put down the weapon. No one needs to get hurt here," the other guard said. "Just stay calm and everything will be all right."
The first people Maggie had run into when she entered the E.R. had been Mark Greene and Peter Benton. She had explained to them how and when she had found John and told them that he was still in her car. Since she was early for her shift, she volunteered to take them to the car. When they exited the elevator at the top level of the parking garage, neither of them was prepared for what they saw. A security truck sat idling in front of them and both of the security guards were standing outside of it, their guns pointed at John, who was standing near her car, a gun in his hand. Her gun in his hand.
"Get back," one of the guards ordered. "We don't know what he's going to do."
"We know him. He's not going to hurt anyone," Mark argued. "Let me talk to him."
"All right, but you can't move closer to him. Talk to him from where you are."
"Fine." Mark directed his attention to John. "John, I really think it would be a good idea for you to put the gun down so we can go inside and talk."
John shook his head, "No. I can't do that. I realized today that I just can't do it anymore."
"Do what, John?"
"Go on living like this. You should go back inside. All of you."
"I can't do that, John. I won't go back in without you."
"Then I guess we'll just have to go back in together." John raised the gun and pointed it in Mark's direction.
As the guards screamed at John to put the gun down, Maggie said to Peter, "It's not loaded. That's my gun and it's not loaded. I keep the bullets locked in the glove compartment. Shit, John knows I don't keep it loaded. Stop him."
John's hand wavered, but he kept pointing it at Mark, ignoring the guards. He glanced over to Maggie. "I'm sorry about this. I really am. Would you please tell that to Kerry and my parents?"
John then swung his arm around, taking aim at the closest guard and stepping forward. Maggie screamed out, yelling that the gun wasn't loaded. The security men either ignored her or never heard her because they both fired at the same time. John dropped to his knees and looked down at his body, seeing the growing bloodstains, and thinking that it was strange that it didn't hurt, then he fell forward. The three doctors were immediately at his side.
"Get a gurney up here now," Peter ordered as he and Mark tried to stem the flow of blood from the gun shot wounds.
The older guard radioed downstairs for help while the other one picked up the gun. He had never shot anyone in his entire life and he was shocked to discover that the gun he was now holding had no bullets in it.
The woman looked up at him, tears in her eyes, "John knew it wasn't loaded."
"He's awake," Mark said.
"John? Can you hear me?" Peter asked.
John nodded, "Yes." He tried to push their hands away. "Please leave me."
"We can't do that, John. You know we can't do that. Just hang in there, okay? You're going to be fine," Mark said.
John shook his head. Couldn't they understand that all he wanted was for the pain to end? As the morphine began to take effect, he felt his irritation at their insistence on saving him fade. A warm peace settled around him and he smiled up at them. "It's not so bad, you know, dying. Sometimes, it's the only answer."
"That's not true." Peter looked up at Mark, "I think he's on something."
"I think you're right about that." Mark said. "John, what have you taken? You need to tell me."
John shook his head and closed his eyes. If he didn't look at Peter and Mark, then he wouldn't have to deal with them. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Why was that so difficult for them to understand?
Mark yelled to the guards, "Where's that gurney? We need to get him downstairs?"
"It's coming." The senior of the two guards replied. The police were also on their way, as was the head of security. He took the gun from his pale and shaky partner, then made the man sit down in the cab of the truck. It was a messy situation and he could only pray that the man they had shot did not die.
The elevator doors opened and Malik exited, pushing a gurney in front of him. With his help, Mark and Peter got John settled on there, then took him down to the E.R.
When they arrived in the E.R., Kerry was on the phone. She had called Roland Carter's cell phone the minute she had heard that Maggie had brought John with her to the hospital. Kerry's face went ashen as she saw them wheel John through the door. "Excuse me a second." She placed her hand over the mouthpiece. "What happened? Why is John bleeding?"
"Ask Doyle." Mark said as he, Peter and Malik rushed John into the trauma room. Maggie was approaching her now, a shocked look still upon her face.
"Maggie? What happened?"
"John's been shot. When we got back to my car, we saw John and two men from security in a standoff. Mark tried to talk to him, but John told him to leave. Then he aimed the gun at one of the guards and I guess they thought he was going to shoot them. They shot him instead. Dr. Weaver, the gun wasn't loaded. I never keep my gun loaded. John knows that. He's gone with me to the shooting range before. Mark and Peter also think that he took some type of drug. Dr. Weaver, he was trying to kill himself up there."
"Randi, take Dr. Doyle into the lounge and get her some coffee. Maggie, I'll be there in just a few minutes. I have John's father on the phone and I need to tell him what's happened."
Kerry waited until Randi and Maggie had gone into the lounge, then she wondered just how she was going to tell Roland what Maggie had just told her. There was no easy way to do it, that was for sure. |
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