RANDOM SCENE 8
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this scene (not a complete story) as part of a writing exercise in response to a survey. The goal was to show a character's emotions after a loved one dies suddenly. The characters here are from my D Is For Damien fiction, and this actually makes a good backstory for later on in the series. Trooper Broderick's ex-wife, Carol, and his young daughter, Sara, have been shot by a person unknown, and the only survivor, Sara, is currently in critical condition in the hospital. Broderick's friend, Detective Mulroy, is there with him. (I'm not sure if Mulroy would have been old enough in the actual timeline, but this is the way I wrote the scene so it currently sticks. If he isn't old enough, just replace his part with Lt. Mabarak! ;) ) In The Scorpio Murders we learn that neither Carol nor Sara survived the attack, so this is what happened, more or less...
"Sir, I'm sorry but visiting hours are over..." "I'm not visiting," Mulroy said under his breath. "I'm keeping an eye on him. We're not causing any trouble, so go on and do whatever it is that you do." The young woman in the white uniform blinked at him with some confusion. "Sir, really, I--" "Look. His kid's just been shot. His ex-wife's dead. A bunch of people probably think he did it. Does a stupid schedule really matter that much? Just go on and we'll leave when we're ready. When he's ready." The woman blinked again but finally turned away, keeping her eye on him, and walking off down the hall. Mulroy watched her leave before glancing back into the room. He stood guard at the door, though he assumed nobody would be bothering them now. Broderick sat beside the bed and Sara's tiny hand was folded in his own. Mulroy felt a pang looking at them but said nothing. The oxygen mask she wore looked far too big for her face, and a little kid should never have had so many bandages all over her body. "B?" he finally murmured. "How are you holding up?" Broderick didn't answer. He hadn't said a word the whole time they'd been there, nor had he moved, even when a nurse had come in to check the tubes running into the girl's arm. The heart monitor kept up a steady beep-beep-beep beside her. B was usually a quiet person, but Mulroy had never seen him this quiet before. If it were him, he felt he would have been ranting and raving. Instead the trooper sat silently beside her, staring into her face as if willing her to wake up. Mulroy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to go down and get us some coffee," he said. "I think maybe you could use some by now." He turned to the door and the monitor suddenly let out a fluttering sound and then whined loudly, a strident eeeeeeeeeeeeeee filling the air. Broderick sat up slightly and though his expression didn't change much, Mulroy could tell he'd been caught off guard. His grip tightened on the girl's hand. The detective's eyes widened when he saw the straight line on the monitor, and he whirled to the door, flinging it open and shouting out into the hallway. "Hey! Her heart stopped!" He hardly needed to yell it; a team of nurses and doctors was already on the way. They pushed past him and to the bed, chattering wildly. Broderick didn't even look up at them, not even when the nurse took hold of his arm and told him he had to move back. His hand seemed glued to his daughter's. Mulroy joined her and carefully pulled Sara's hand free, guiding Broderick away from the bed while the others checked her over, looking for life signs. After a moment they wheeled over a large machine and pulled out the paddles. Mulroy held Broderick back though the policeman made no move to push forward. He stared at the action with wide eyes, as if watching a movie. The paddles made a whining sound. "Clear!" someone shouted, and pressed them to the little girl's chest. Her body jumped and then fell back. Mulroy jumped at the same time, and felt Broderick's muscles tense, his hand squeezing the detective's arm. The straight line moved on unwavering; the paddles whined again. "Clear!" Another jump. Everyone looked up at the monitor. The straight line moved on unbroken. By now Mulroy didn't even hear the paddles whining, just the rushing sound of his own disbelief. They pressed to Sara's chest again, but this time she didn't jump. Even without the oxygen mask, which they'd removed, she looked so small and pale. "Dammit, clear!" Mulroy felt Broderick's grip on his arm loosening. He turned from staring at the bed to look at his friend. Broderick's gaze hadn't wavered from the bed, though something about his eyes had changed. He no longer looked quite so surprised...but neither did he look like he believed what was happening. He had the look of someone remembering, or else trapped in, a bad dream--feeling the horror, in fear that it might be true, yet hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that it wasn't, that it was just a figment of the imagination. Sara's head rolled to the side and the man with the paddles pulled back, looking down into her face. Nobody was rushing to do anything anymore. The long steady eeeeeeeeeeeeee of the monitor continued. He lowered the paddles and glanced up at the clock. "Shit," Mulroy whispered. "Time of death, one forty-seven PM." Broderick's hand let go of Mulroy's arm. Mulroy glanced at him again. He still stared at Sara, but now even the horror was gone. He seemed dazed, not quite certain what was going on around him. His hand pulled away slowly. He took one slight step back, and Mulroy suddenly feared him falling over from the shock. He grabbed onto his arm. "Here, let's sit down." He steered him over toward his chair, which had been pushed out of the way in the rush. Broderick didn't protest when Mulroy gently pushed him down into it. He only gave Sara's still form a numb stare, unspeaking. Mulroy would have preferred him to be screaming and shouting. At least he would have known how to deal with that. This was too strange. Too...quiet. He felt like screaming himself just to break the silence. "B?" he whispered, bending down to look in his eyes. They stared vacantly. "Are you all right?" "Sir?" He ground his teeth and stood again when the doctor who'd been applying the paddles came forward. He stopped and tilted his head slightly with an uncertain look, not sure how to speak to the policemen. "I'm...I'm sorry for your loss," he said to Broderick. "We tried everything we could..." "Yeah," Mulroy said. The doctor bit his lip. "Is...is he all right? Should I maybe call somebody...?" "What does it look like?" Mulroy snapped. "He just lost his daughter. Do you think you'd be all right? Just go away and leave him alone for now." The doctor nodded. "Of course. We have a grief counselor down the hallway. You...um...might consider speaking with her before you go. Is the mother here...?" "She's dead," Mulroy said in a flat voice, and the doctor paled and nodded again, turning away abruptly. "I understand," he murmured, walking back to the bed. The nurses were shutting off the monitor and pulling the IVs from the girl's arm. Everybody moved slowly now. Mulroy knelt down beside Broderick's chair, squeezing his arm. "B?" he whispered again. "Are you going to be okay?" Broderick didn't answer. Mulroy might as well have not been there. He hated that empty look in his eyes. It was worse even than total despair. At least with despair, he would have known his friend was feeling something. He didn't know how to deal with emptiness. That was what frightened him. END |
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