PART TWO
Odyssey
The last of the sun's dying light had crawled to the edges of the cabin leaving the two friends in deep shadow. "Ag.....fi...fi..re,....ho...t," Fraser's splintered voice was barely audible, but his head banged hard against Ray and jolted the detective into full wakefulness.
"Easy, buddy, easy," Ray soothed, flexing his cramped muscles and trying to lever Fraser into a better position. "Sssh, I'm here, don't try to talk. Just rest, I'm here."
"Ho........t," the Mountie protested, distress giving force to his voice.
"Yeah, it's okay. I'll get you cooled down in just a minute. Here, let me help you lie down flat. That will feel better. Easy, eas...y. There. That's better, isn't it?" Ray groped for a pillow to push under Fraser's head. As the detective slipped his hand to the back of Ben's head to raise it for the cushion, Ray felt the unmistakable heat of fever under his hand. Fraser was burning up. ‘Shit!,' he screamed to himself. ‘Shit, shit, shit.'
Pitching his voice to convey maximum comfort, Ray said softly, "I'll get some nice cool water. No. Easy, buddy. The water will make you feel better. Try to lie still."
"So.....ho...t," Ben fretted.
"I know, buddy, I'm gonna fix you right up. You'll be okay." Ray was on his feet and moving toward the kitchen. "Hang on, Fraser, I'm getting the water. It's gonna be okay," he called over his shoulder. "You're gonna feel better in two shakes."
"The Yank's going to take care of you, Son. Stay strong, Benton." Bob Fraser directed.
Quickly filling a pot and grabbing what he thought he remembered as being a clean rag, Ray hurried back to his partner. ‘Shit, I can't see a thing,' he thought with exasperation. ‘Matches, where the hell did I leave the matches for the lanterns?' As he grabbed one lantern off the table, he felt it bump against the match box. He whispered a quick thank you and fumbled blindly to light the lamp. Not waiting to adjust the wick, he swung the lantern to the floor and knelt by Fraser's side.
‘G-d.' Ray sat paralyzed as looked at his friend. In the dim light, it looked like Fraser had collapsed in on himself. The once robust Mountie now looked shrunken and fragile. Hot skin pulled taut against his bones. His mouth was moving brokenly, no longer able to push his fractured words out. His eyes were open, but seemingly unfocused and too dry to reflect any of the lantern's feeble light.
"Oh, Frase...r," the sob tore loose from Ray's throat and echoed off the cabin walls. Somehow,Death had found them after all. Ray had not been vigilant enough. ‘Oh, G-d, help us!'
"He needs to be hydrated, Yank. Get that fever down." Bob Fraser barked.
"No!" Ray screamed. "You're not taking him. Not on my watch. No way." Wringing out the cloth, Ray started bathing the tender skin. "Hang on, buddy. Please. You gotta fight this."
Over and over, Ray washed away the sweat until he needed to add more water and clean the rag. "I'll be right back. Hang tough, buddy. Don't you go anywhere." He laid his hand on Fraser's cheek hoping to feel Fraser turn into his touch. The Mountie lay passive and unresponsive. ‘Doesn't matter. We're going to beat this,' Ray thought fiercely as he lurched toward the sink. "I'm with you, buddy. Just getting some things."
Refilling the pot, Ray realized that he needed to get water into Fraser, not merely on him. Snagging a metal cup from its under-the-shelf hanger, Ray filled that, too, and carried everything back to his partner. "I'm right here, buddy. I need you to drink some water. It's really important." The Mountie didn't seem to hear him. "Come on, buddy. You gotta do this, Fraser,"
Ray crooned as he lifted Ben's head up with one arm and eased the cup to his mouth. Ray sighed with relief as the Mountie's cracked, dried lips sucked greedily at the water. "Whoa, there. Whoa. Not too much at first. You do need to drink a lot, but you have to be careful. Whoa." Ray was afraid to give him more than half a cup to start with. Fraser had almost choked in his eagerness to get the water.
Despite the recent bathing, the sweat again shone thick on Fraser's skin. Ray grabbed his rag and started wiping away the fever's sticky residue. "Come on, buddy, work with me here. You gotta beat this." Soon Ray's jaw ached from his continued pleas to Ben to fight the sickness, but the detective kept the patter going and tried to rally his friend. "You're a Mountie. You're strong."
"He's right, Son," Fraser, Sr. agreed. "Mounties go against incredible odds and win. You must win, Benton." Bob Fraser directed a grateful smile at Ray. The Yank's devotion to Benton's care was heroic.
As nightfall came, the little cabin got quite cold. Ray never faltered. He worked on despite the intense chill, continually dipping his rapidly chapping hands in the cold water to re-wet the rag. His voice, rusted from lack of fluids, ground on trying to talk Ben back from the terrible darkness.
"Thank you, Yank. You're a good friend and a good partner. My son is a lucky man," Bob Fraser pronounced. He turned to stare out the window and tried to think of better times.
Into the second hour, Ray realized he had to change his strategy. No matter how many times he bathed Fraser with the cold water, within minutes the Mountie's skin was once more slick with sweat. The fever's fire was consuming Fraser's precious fluids. Ray gnawed his lower lip. ‘He's burning up from the inside out. I have to get this fever down fast.' The detective paused to push a wet lock of hair off Ben's forehead. Beneath Ray's hand, the Mountie moved sluggishly, still in the grip of unspeakable hurting, but too sick and weak to react any more. "Oh, buddy, what are we going to do?" Ray could feel fear's thorny pinch prickling at his spine. He gave a violent shiver and realized with surprise that he was cold. ‘I need to get Fraser cooled down like that,' he thought in desperation.
"Wait. Wait. What's wrong with me? We're in the flippin arctic. We got a giant refrigerator outside cranking out ice cubes." Ray scrambled to his feet. "I need someth.....ah, ha," he exclaimed as he snatched up his backpack and dumped his few remaining clean clothes onto the floor. "Back in a flash, buddy," he assured Fraser. Dashing through the door, Ray skidded down the icy steps and started scooping handfuls of snow into the pack. "The cabin's cold enough, this should last at least a little while," he decided. At the top of the porch steps, he noticed icicles glinting from the eaves. "Perfect." Ray broke off several large ones and stuck them into the snow-filled pack.
"I'm back, buddy. I've got the ticket," he huffed as he knelt by Fraser's side. Pushing aside covers and clothing, Ray tucked an icicle along each side of Ben, between torso and arm. A third icicle was positioned along the outside of Fraser's left leg. "It's snow time," Ray said in a giddy rush. He packed handfuls of the white stuff around his friend's head and shoulders. The detective thought fleetingly of pneumonia, but the fever was the critical problem. It had to get broken and get broken fast. He used both hands to make a blanket of snow on Ben's upper chest.
Ray worried about the wound site getting wet. ‘Plastic. I need some plastic.' The detective made a quick raid into the kitchen. "Anything will do.....," he puzzled for a few minutes, his eyes roving the open cupboards and counters. ‘Bread!' he thought and pried open the mouse-proof tin container. He fumbled the twist tie off the wrapper and cast the bread upon the counter. Ripping the bag as he went, Ray fashioned a double-folded protective covering which he placed over Fraser's bandaging. For extra protection, the detective added a towel and tee shirt to the layering. "More snow," he announced as he raced out the door again. In a short time, Fraser lay buried to his neck in snow. Beside him, Ray knelt panting from all the exertion, but with rag in hand, he patiently patted cold water onto Ben's forehead and cheeks. "It's gonna be all right now. We're just about there. You're gonna be feeling better real quick now." Ray's voice crackled with exhaustion. "We're gonna make it, buddy." Ray picked up the nearby cup. "Here, sip some of this water. You need something for your insides, too. We're gonna make it, Fraser."
The night blurred on, an endless loop of sacrifices for Ray, but ones he made without a thought. Sleep, food, warmth were not important. Fraser needed help. Fraser needed him. The detective would do whatever it took to help his friend. The Mountie was a major part of Ray's life now and he couldn't and wouldn't imagine it otherwise. "Love you like a brother, Fraser.....love you."
By dawn, Ray was moving like a robot. Kneeling, standing, back and forth, up and down, hauling, packing, mopping, patting. His hands ached from the constant exposure to snow and semi-freezing water and his body felt like it had been pummeled by some vengeful thug. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except saving Fraser's life. Ray wrung out the wash rag and moved it gently over the Mountie's beloved face.
"Stay strong, Yank. You're doing an exemplary job here,"Bob Fraser praised. Har...umph, um..... your lieutenant would be proud."
As morning inched on towards noon, the repetition of his movements rocked Ray into a dozy state. He was literally asleep on his knees. Even so, eyes closed, he babbled hopeful words. Half dreaming, he was so out of it that he almost missed it.
"Co....ld," Fraser whispered, his voice scarcely scratching the air.
"It's all right, you're going to be all right," Ray said, automatically lapsing into his reassuring mode. "I'm here. You're gonna be all right. I'll......, huh?" With enormous effort, Ray forced his eyes open. "Fraser?" Ray blinked several times just to be sure.
The Mountie was awake. He looked awful, but his eyes were open and he had spoken! Ray
carefully laid his trembling hand on Fraser's forehead. Though it was warm to the touch, it was not hot. The fever was most decidedly down. "All right, all right," Ray sputtered. "Your fever's almost gone!"
"Col....ddd." Fraser insisted.
"Oh, yeah, I guess so." Ray noticed a slight blue tinge to Fraser's lips. "Yeah, buddy, let's get you somewhere warm and dry."
Mindful of the wound site, the detective used a corner of wet blanket to push the snow off Ben's upper torso. The puckered white skin reminded Ray of fish underbellies and made him unaccountably sad. "You'll be warm in a jiff, Fraser," Ray murmured. "Just gotta brush most of this snow off and then move ya away from the wet spot."
"Co....llll...," the Mountie moaned.
"I know, buddy, just a few more minutes," Ray countered, brushing away snow with one hand and using the other hand to salvage dry bedding. Ray's bed stuff had been far enough away to escape the icy puddling and would serve as the basis for the Mountie's new "nest". ‘Shit,' Ray thought, ‘Fraser's sweats are soaking wet again. Maybe, if I get a fire going.......no, I'll just have to find some more dry ones. Shit. But, first......,' Ray grunted as he rummaged through the pile of miscellaneous clothes and coverings trying to find enough to add to the meager bedding. It looked inadequate, but it was dry. Ray grabbed a half damp towel and used it to gently dry Ben's chest and stomach.
Fraser made a small sound and shivered.
"I know, buddy, I know," Ray comforted and slipped one hand to the side of Fraser's neck. Ray's fingers automatically sought the reassuring pulse of the carotid artery. "We're making progress. It should be easy, ah...sledding, that's Mountie talk. I'm learning. You're gonna be all right now."
Ray jumped when Diefenbaker gave a sharp bark. "Yowza, dog, what's up with you?" Ray exclaimed. "Ya just gave me heart failure," he finished weakly. He patted Fraser's shoulder in case the sudden jerk had disturbed Ben.
"Looks like we've got some company coming," Bob Fraser announced from his position by the kitchen window. "Can't tell for sure, but it looks like.....yes, that's an RCMP unit, I'm sure. The calvary is here, Yank!"
"Is something out there, Dief?" Ray asked. The wolf was at the door whining urgently. ‘Something's got his attention.' The detective considered the possibilities. ‘Would a bear bother a cabin? Shit, there's bloody clothes and stuff lying out there!' Ray's thoughts took a panicked turn. ‘Probably got the whole bear clan out there.' He leaped to his feet and sprinted for the rifle leaning against the front wall.
"Easy, Yank. You don't usually greet people in the north by thrusting a gun in their face. I trust you'll look before you start shooting," Bob Fraser chided.
Ray checked the rifle's load and sidled up to the kitchen window. A cautious peek and a duck back revealed nothing out of the ordinary. No large, furry beasts were storming the cabin or having a feeding frenzy with the bloodied clothing. ‘Wha.....? Wait, there....over there!' Ray pressed his face against the window and blinked his bloodshot eyes a few times to clear them.‘That's a dog sled! There's red people in it! Look, there's another one!'
"Hot diggity, Dief, the Mounties are coming! Fraser, the Mounties are coming!" Ray was screaming. Dropping the rifle, he wrenched open the door and jumped onto the porch. The glaring sun made his eyes tear. Blinking madly, he hopped up and down and waved his arms. "What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sled and men in red gear," he recited crazily.
"That's a beautiful sight. Look at the synchronization, Yank. Man and beast working together....," Bob Fraser rhapsodized.
Satisfied that the sleds were heading for the cabin, Ray ran back inside to check on Fraser. The detective dropped down to his knees beside his friend. "It's gonna be A-Okay, Fraser. Those men in red are, are.....Oh, Fraser....," Ray's last words scraped across his suddenly dried up throat.
Ben was in a bad way again, caught in the throes of a spiking pain. ‘I only left him for a minute,' thought the detective in disbelief. "Damn it!" he shrieked, punching a hard fist at the air. Ray unclenched his hand and reached out to help his friend. "I'm here. I'm here. Easy, buddy, it's gonna be okay. We've got help now. You're gonna be all right. Please, hang on."
Ray bent to embrace the Mountie's trembling shoulders, but Fraser twisted away trying to escape the pain in his middle. His legs thrashed against the soggy bedding. His hands clutched convulsively at the now blood-stained bandaging. Bright red blood trickled from both corners of his mouth. Ray's heart ached as the fragmented sounds of Ben's torment melded into a jagged keening. Desperate to do something, Ray dragged Fraser's shuddering body into his arms. "You're gonna be all right, buddy. It's almost over. Help is here." Ben's head moved fitfully against Ray's shoulder. "Hang on, Fraser. Hang on, buddy. Sssshh, it's gonna be okay."
Ray could now hear the clamor of the dogs as the sleds approached the cabin. "We've got help, Fraser. It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine," the detective whispered. The Mountie's head sagged loosely. He was unconscious again. Ray moved a hand up to stroke Fraser's stubbly cheek, but jerked it away as he touched the fresh blood staining Ben's chin and neck. Ray prayed Fraser had bitten his tongue or it was from his mouth and lips being so dried out. ‘Please don't let that be internal stuff. We're so close.'
Diefenbaker hurtled through the open door whining with excitement. Behind him rose the sound of male voices. "In here," Ray screamed. "Hurry!" Ray looked up and squinted as three red-coated men crowded the cabin doorway. "We need help here. Fraser's badly hurt."
"Constable Benton Fraser?" queried the first man through the door.
"Yes, Fraser. He's been shot and needs help." In his anxiety, Ray's voice sharpened a few decibels.
"We had been told that Constable Fraser was.....had been....well, never mind. Constable Porteneau, did you bring your gear in with you?" the man asked the shorter of the two Mounties behind him.
"Yes," replied the man named Porteneau and moved to where Ray still cradled his fallen partner.
"Constable Porteneau is medically trained. He will attend to Constable Fraser and be assisted by Constable Harrod," the man indicated the third man. "I am Sergeant March, in command of this.... retrieval unit. Perhaps, you could brief me on the events that have transpired here."
Ray just stared at the man who in the better light looked disturbingly like Turnbull, as did that other one, Harry. ‘Do they just cookie stamp these guys?' he wondered inanely. ‘Except, of course, for Fraser. There's no one else like Fraser.' He shook his head. "Ah, sure, after we help my partner."
Sergeant March raised an eyebrow at Ray's reference, but nodded and continued, "Constables Porteneau and Harrod will see to Constable Fraser's care now. I assure you they are quite capable of providing the necessary medical assistance. If you would be so kind, Constable Porteneau will need some space so he can examine Constable Fraser and determine the extent of his injuries."
Ray grappled with his temper, "He's been shot. There. Where the bandage is. The bullet's in the sink. I took it out. He's been rotten sick with a high fever, but I thought we got past that. I don't know what's wrong now," Ray's voice lost its defensive, belligerent edge. ".....I don't know....." Ray was suddenly bone tired. He looked at the two Mounties kneeling on either side of him and Fraser and carefully unwrapped his arms from around his friend. He let the two men help him lay Fraser down flat on the bedding. "A real doctor is here. You're gonna be all right now," Ray said softly to Ben before stumbling to his feet.
"You've done a fine job, Yank. It's time to let the RCMP take care of things. They are trained for this very thing. Benton has been and will be in good hands." Bob Fraser said with a grateful smile.
"Detective Vecchio, perhaps you would like to sit over here," Sergeant March waved Ray to the little table. With Ray perched reluctantly on the edge of a chair at the table, the Sergeant began. "I imagine this has been a rather trying experience for you." Ray snorted at the understatement. "Yes, well, can you tell me when you arrived, what Constable Fraser's condition was at that time and what has happened in the interim? It would be most helpful to relate the sequencing as accurately as possible." March flipped open a small notebook and clicked his pen to ready.
Ray looked askance at the sergeant. ‘Is this guy for real? My best friend is lying three feet away with a bullet hole in him. I don't know what's happening to him and I'm supposed to sit here and calmly "relate" the sequence of events? Right.'
"Detective?" March prodded.
The detective gave Sergeant March a tight smile and tried to think back to that awful moment of discovery. In Ray's head, the days all ran backwards and tumbled into a big heap. "I...ah....," his narrative tripped along in uneven steps. His attention was too often distracted by odd phases and words drifting up from the two Mounties tending to Fraser. "Oh, my...," "hacksaw...," "source of that hemorrhaging...."
Suddenly, Constable Porteneau appeared at March's left shoulder. "Sergeant March? Excuse me. I need to discuss this situation with you immediately," Porteneau interrupted.
"Of course, Constable. Pardon me, Detective Vecchio," March waved an apologetic hand and went to confer with Porteneau in a far corner of the room.
Ray immediately shot to Fraser's side. Constable Harrod was dabbing some sort of astringent compound around the exposed wound site. "How's he doing?" Ray asked anxiously. As he looked at the oozing, raw, ghastly looking hole under Fraser's ribs, Ray's own stomach felt like it was filled with coarse chunks of granite. ‘What have I done?' The wound looked like the handiwork of some crazed butcher. ‘Oh, Fraser, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'
"We, ah....have some concerns," Constable Harrod responded with a sympathetic glance at the American.
"Huh....what did you say?" Ray tried to pull himself back from the horror.
"Concerns," Harrod repeated. "Constable Porteneau is concerned about Constable Fraser's present condition."
Ray's attention snapped to the two Mounties in the corner. RCMP Sergeant March was speaking urgently into a hand-held radio. Before Ray could reach the two men, March thumbed a button on the radio and slipped it back onto his Sam Browne. He calmly faced Ray as the detective bulldozed across the room.
"Detective Vecchio, pardon the interruption. Constable Porteneau feels it is necessary to expedite the removal of Constable Fraser to a fully equipped medical facility. I expect to have an evacuation helicopter arriving within the next hour and a half. Of course, you and Constable Porteneau will accompany Constable Fraser so I would advise you to collect any gear you wish to take along. Constable Harrod and I will secure this cabin and return to our base.
"Is....is Fraser going to be all right?" Ray choked.
The Mounties glanced at each other, but their faces remained impassive. "Constable Fraser will have excellent medical care," March answered smoothly. "Perhaps, there are some personal things of his you would like to pack as well. I will be happy to assist you."
Instead of feeling relieved about getting Fraser to a hospital so quickly, Ray felt a terrible fear. Their Mountie calm didn't fool him. The Mounties were worried. This kind of action screamed emergency and that meant that death was till trying to take Ben. ‘Don't give up, Fraser. Keep fighting. I'm here with you.'
"Is this your backpack, Detective?" March asked gently, hoisting it up for the American to identify.
Ray nodded and took it from the sergeant. Ray didn't care about taking any of his personal things, but he needed to do something and without thought, started to stuff an odd collection of items into the pack. For reasons he didn't stop to analyze, it was important to have Fraser's razor and brush and one of his worn flannel shirts that had been too threadbare for the previous surgical duty. Fingering the soft fabric, the detective stopped his gathering and watched as the Mounties stripped away Fraser's wet clothing, wrapped his lower body in a cottony looking blanket and moved him onto a carrying gurney type thing. Ray hated the impersonal way the men handled his friend.
"Dief," Ray almost hollered. The wolf had come up behind Ray and nudged his leg. ‘What is wrong with me, I almost forgot Dief.' "Sergeant, the wolf has to go with us too. In the helicopter, I mean."
March looked at Diefenbaker and frowned. "I'm sorry, but this is a medical evac and for reasons of sanitation and sterility, animals are not permitted. We will transport him back to our base and make arrangements from there."
Dief barked in protest. "No, Sergeant, Dief has to go with me and Fraser. I'm not leaving him here or at some base. Fraser needs to have him close by," Ray argued.
Sergeant March started to counter the argument, but noting the stubborn set of the American's jaw and the stony look, the sergeant gave a slight nod and turned back to supervise his constables.
"What about Malcolm's dogs?" Ray asked March's back. "What are you going to do about them?"
The sergeant turned and gave the American a slight smile. "Constable Harrod and I will return them to Mr. McDermott before we return to base. Thank you for taking care of them."
"No problem," the detective mumbled and resumed his packing. ‘Damn Mounties know everything,' he thought with a touch of resentment. Ray wanted to spend the waiting time sitting with Fraser. He wanted to personally make sure his friend was safe and protected, but the Mounties were still performing their mysterious medical things. Ray had to concede that was probably more helpful than his own emotional hand holding. He sighed and crammed some more useless items into the bulging pack.
In the arctic stillness, the heavy growl of the helicopter could be heard well before it was actually visible. Constable Harrod went outside to move the sleds away from the expected landing site. Constable Porteneau had re-bandaged Fraser and was tucking a warm covering around his upper torso. When March left the cabin to appraise the situation, Ray slipped back to Fraser's side. "A minute alone?" the detective asked, thumping to his knees beside the gurney. Porteneau nodded and rising to his feet with cat-like grace, moved off to view the copter's arrival from the window.
"It's show time, buddy." Ray whispered. His hand squeezed Fraser's shoulder through the thick covering. "That whirly bird is going to take you to the hospital so you can get better. I won't be with you all the time, but you gotta know I'm always with you here." Ray laid his hand over Fraser's heart. "I'm with you, buddy. No matter what." He moved his hand to Fraser's forehead, feeling the sticky heat under his palm. The copter's whup, whup, whup filled the air and reverberated off the cabin walls. Ray leaned close to Fraser's ear, "Love you like a brother."
Constable Porteneau, shouting to be heard over the noise, advised, "We're going to be loading Constable Fraser in a few minutes. You might want to get your gear."
"Uh, yeah, okay," Ray agreed. He let his hand linger a moment longer, absorbing the warm essence of his friend. "Pitter, patter....We gotta go, buddy. Those doctors are gonna patch you up so you'll feel good again. Bet there's some pretty nurses, too....and they'll all be fighting with each other to see who gets to take care of you." Ray chuckled, knowing how uncomfortable all the inevitable female attention would make Fraser.
In minutes, the little cabin was filled with people. Two muscle-bound men hefted the gurney and whisked Fraser through the door with Porteneau churning along in their wake shouting his instructions. March and two other men milled around the cabin making a visual sweep of the room. Ray followed their eyes and inwardly winced at the pile of bloody towels in the kitchen area and the stained, overturned cot and the saturated bedding sitting in puddles on the floor.
‘Poor Mounties are probably gonna blow out their little neatness meters,' Ray thought. ‘There wasn't a whole lot of time to worry about a Good Housekeeping award,' he assured himself defensively. ‘Hey, I did the best I could.' He was getting mad. ‘Of course, Porkynose can probably perform open heart surgery, cook a four course meal and clean the kitchen floor without a waxy build-up.'
Sergeant March strode over to Ray's side. "It was nice meeting you, Detective Vecchio, although, of course, we would both have preferred different circumstances."
"Of course," Ray snarled facetiously, still caught up in his mental gripe.
Unruffled by Ray's flippancy, the sergeant continued, "Again, to reassure you, Constable Harrod and I will secure this location. Now, we must get you on the helicopter. They will have situated Constable Fraser by now. Please come along."
Ray was tempted to snap off a Nazi salute, but curbed the impulse. ‘These Mounties just live and breathe efficiency. I don't think they can help it. And, they are helping Fraser,' Ray relented. "Er, thank you, Sergeant, for all your help. Fraser and I really appreciate it."
"I'm glad my men and I were able to assist, Detective." March answered crisply and ushered Ray out of the cabin.
"Yowza!" Ray threw up an arm to protect his eyes from the radiating sunlight. He shifted the backpack more squarely on his left shoulder and stumbled blindly toward the copter.
"Head down!" someone yelled.
"Yikes!" Ray bent almost double and crab walked behind March's jodhpur-clad legs. At the base of the helicopter steps, Diefenbaker merged into Ray's field of vision. "Oh, good, I was afraid I'd have to pry you away from some cute husky," the detective joked.
"Hey," someone above Ray protested. "We don't fly dogs on a medical evac."
Ray cautiously straightened up, prepared to do battle over Dief's right to travel with Fraser. Before Ray could even open his mouth, Sergeant March raised an imperious hand. "The animal is Constable Fraser's companion and as such, it has been deemed important to have him accompany the Constable. I will assume responsibility for the clearance. It is my understanding that the animal can safely ride in an area well away from the medical compartment so kindly direct Detective Vecchio and the dog to that section. Thank you."
A strong hand wrapped itself around Ray's right biceps and half dragged him up the steps and into the copter's gaping doorway. "This way, please," the airman attached to the hand commanded.
"But, don't I get to sit with Fraser? Wait," Ray objected and pulling back, craned his head to peer into the medical section. "Fraser may need me," the detective tried to reason. All he could see of his friend was the mummy-bound wrapping around his legs.
"Constable Fraser requires medical attention right now. Anyone other than a doctor or medic would be a hindrance. Please come with me. You will be most comfortable back here," the airman stated in a no-nonsense manner and directed Ray away from where Fraser lay.
Ray recognized that he was not going to win this skirmish and allowed himself to be propelled into a semi-partitioned section in the rear of the copter. Two strategically placed bulkhead walls completely blocked his view of the medical area. "Not exactly V.I.P. treatment here," he muttered under his breath. "Guess, we don't count for nuthin, Dief." The wolf whined in agreement.
"Please sit here, Detective and be sure to fasten your seatbelt. This bird flies pretty smoothly, but there can be unexpected turbulence."
Ray reluctantly plunked himself down into the seat. "This is a bigger helicopter than I expected," he said, striving to tamp down his flaring temper. He certainly didn't expect to be stashed so far away from Fraser.
"Because of our remote location, we need a transport with long range capability. Also, some of the problems, unique to this northern area, that we encounter require a larger payload capacity. These CH-113 Labradors are used almost exclusively for our SAR, excuse me, search and rescue missions." Using a couple of lengths of nylon strapping, the airman fashioned a harness for Diefenbaker and deftly tied the three foot end to Ray's seat's support. "There you go, fella, that should keep you out of trouble and still give you some maneuvering room." Dief growled.
"If there is anything you need from your pack, please remove it now. I will need to secure your luggage in another area."
"Thank you kindly," Ray hissed. He felt like an unwanted piece of baggage himself. He hated being this far away from Fraser. The detective needed to see what was happening to his friend. Ray had fought hard to keep Fraser alive. Could Ray trust those doctors to fight as hard? Did they understand how special their patient was? ‘That isn't just any Mountie up there, that's Fraser.' The detective strapped himself into the seat under the watchful eye of his Canadian escort. ‘As soon as this guy leaves, I'm outta here," Ray thought mutinously.
"Are you hungry or perhaps thirsty, Detective Vecchio? We're not well stocked, but I'm sure I could find something satisfactory. Would you like to clean up, perhaps?" the airman offered.
"Nah, er...no, I'm fine...ah, thank you," Ray tried to sound polite. ‘Just go away,' he screamed in his head.
"If you change your mind, I will be in the jump seat right on the other side of this wall, so please don't hesitate to ask." The airman smiled graciously, swung the backpack up and disappeared behind the bulkhead.
‘Shit!!' Ray banged his head against the back of the seat in frustration.
Minutes later there was a slight lurch and shudder as the helicopter lifted off and started its rushed flight to the hospital. As exhausted as he was, Ray should have been lulled into sleep by the drone of the copter's big engines, but instead, he was wildly scheming of ways to get to Fraser. ‘Gotta lose the shadow. Maybe, the old bathroom ploy....'
"Hey, excuse me, is there a can on this plane...er, bird?" Ray hollered. "A bathroom, I'd like to use your john," he clarified.
The airman peered around the partition and pointed. "It's through that door to your right. It's rather small, but it is fully equipped. I'm pleased to say we have progressed beyond pee-do tubes. There are some towels in the compartment under the sink if you would like to clean up a bit," he added.
"Oh.....thanks," Ray pouted. ‘So much for that brilliant plan. Unless I can lure my babysitter into the bathroom and lock him in.' Even as he thought it, the detective discarded the idea. ‘Shit, the guy's just a little too savvy for that trick.' Ray mentally shrugged and decided he really did need to use the facilities. ‘Guess I can figure out what a pee-do tube was. Damn the pee-does and full stream ahead. Whoa, getting a little punchy here.' He unbuckled his seatbelt and carefully stepping over the sleeping Diefenbaker, crossed the five or six foot space between his seat and the restroom.
The room was closet size, but did have a toilet and small sink. It was also spotlessly clean. ‘They could probably do brain surgery in here,' Ray thought peevishly as he flushed the toilet. Turning to wash his hands, he almost cried out at the sight of himself in the mirror. His blond hair looked grimy and the portions that weren't plastered to his head stuck up in odd little spikes. The dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes, the wild growth of beard and the dried blood that had apparently splattered up during the "operation" all combined to make him look like something that had crawled out of Chicago's worst gutter. ‘No wonder everyone's giving me the fast shuffle,' he thought with a jolt of understanding. ‘I look like your crazed neighborhood ax murderer.'
Cracking the door slightly, Ray hollered to his escort. "Excuse me, could I have my pack? I need to, uh....fix a few things."
"Certainly, Detective," came the response and two minutes later, Ray was digging through the contents of the pack. He shook his head over some of the items. ‘What was I thinking when I put that in there?' he wondered several times. He would use Fraser's brush, but the straight edge razor would be hazardous. ‘I should shave, but one weird air pocket and I end up slitting my throat. Not a good idea.' Crammed in the bottom of the pack, Ray unearthed a clean pair of briefs, fresh socks and a clean t-shirt which he would wear under Fraser's old flannel shirt. He regretted not stuffing in some better jeans, but he would be half-way presentable anyway.
Ray spent almost forty minutes scrubbing and washing. He practically had to hang from the ceiling to get his hair semi-washed. Trying to change clothes in such a small area required the body control of a contortionist, but it was worthwhile. Even with wet hair and badly wrinkled clothes, Ray looked and felt much better. ‘Won't be terrifying small children now,' he thought with some satisfaction. He had been careful to wipe out the sink, too. ‘See, I can be neat when I have time.' The towels were trashed, but that was unavoidable.
The airman smiled with approval when he saw Ray. "I can re-stow that pack for you, Detective. Would you like something to drink now? I found some juice and some power bars, if you would like something for your stomach."
Ray thought fast. ‘Maybe, Mr. Efficient will have to go to another section of the copter to get the juice and I can just slip up to front.' Ray cleared his throat. "Yea...yes, that sounds good. I would appreciate it."
"If you'll just sit down and re-belt," the airman nodded to the vacant seat, "I'll be happy to get you that drink. I hope apple juice will be all right. We have not had time to restock our supplies."
Ray made a big show of stretching and working out some imaginary stiffness in his legs. "Just have to get the kinks out before I sit down again," he smiled in his most winning fashion. "I really am pretty dry though and that juice is sounding mighty good right now," he added pointedly.
"Of course, excuse me for keeping you waiting," the airman apologized and disappeared behind the bulkhead.
Ray slowly counted to twenty and then cautiously peeked around the wall. There was no sign of his Canadian shadow, but there was another wall between Ray and the medical area. Without hesitation, he bolted for it and ran right into the juice-bearing airman.
Both men grunted with surprise. "Detective Vecchio, you should be back in your seat," the airman admonished.
"Yeah, well, I had this leg cramp and when I get it, I have to walk it out." Ray could see the Canadian wasn't buying it. "Look, damn it, my best friend is laying up there with a bad gunshot and he's really sick and I don't know how he's doing and it's making me nuts. I tried to take care of him, but I'm not a doctor and maybe I made things worse, I don't know. I just gotta know how he is. I gotta see him. He may need something only I know about," Ray stared beseechingly at the airman.
The Canadian nodded in sympathy. "I do understand, Detective," he said softly, "but your presence in the medical area might compromise your friend's treatment. The doctors need to maintain a certain level of sanitation and well, ...." he looked meaningfully at Ray's still unkempt attire. "Also, the working area in this bird is very constricted. The doctors need to be able react to any situation and extra personnel can jeopardize their ability to reach essential equipment. Possibly, I can have one of the doctors come back and explain their assessment of Constable Fraser's condition and explain the treatment they are providing. Would that help reassure you as to the care your friend is receiving?"
"No, I want to see Fraser," Ray insisted with a mulish edge to his voice. "I just want to see him to be sure he's all right. I won't touch anything. I won't get in the way. I just want to see him for myself." Ray was ready to push past the Canadian and charge into the sick bay.
Perhaps sensing Ray's intentions, the airman raised a hand in the classic stop position and tried again to reason with the American. "I really can't allow you into the restricted area for the reasons I cited, but perhaps we can find a place outside the area where you will able to at least see your friend. I can't guarantee how much you will able to see, but maybe, it will give you some peace of mind. Will you please wait here while I make the arrangements?"
Ray nodded. "Thanks."
Thirty seconds was his limit though. ‘Screw this waiting here politely. I gotta know what's happening.' As soon as the Canadian disappeared around the partition, Ray sidled up to the wall and peeked around it. He could see the medical area and maybe a little bit of the foot of Fraser's gurney, but equipment and medics blocked any view of his friend. ‘I gotta get closer,' he decided, ‘maybe, over there.' He focused on an area to the extreme left of the med compartment. Before he could make his move, a sharply spoken "Detective Vecchio!"brought his head up. ‘Uh, oh, busted,' Ray thought in frustration and threw a hopeful smile in the voice's direction.
The airman responded with a tolerant smile and waved the detective over. "This is as close as you will be permitted," the Canadian said when Ray joined him. "The doctors are still monitoring Constable Fraser's condition and are hesitant to discuss his medical status until he can be evaluated by the properly equipped hospital staff. They have, however, assured me that your friend is stable for the moment."
Ray's panic level wanged off the charts. ‘That's Canadian doublespeak for things aren't so good, but let's not scare the poor American slob,' he thought with a rush of fear. He twisted his head trying to catch a glimpse of Fraser between the moving bodies and monitoring equipment. ‘Move yer butt, Porkynose,' he thought fiercely. "I can't see," Ray complained, his voice bristling with a sharp anger. "I can't see Fraser."
"Please, Detective Vecchio, be patient for a few minutes."
"Go to h.....," Ray broke off as suddenly Constable Porteneau changed position and there was Fraser. Ray's fear and anger and compassion and love all collided and left him gasping. "Oh,...oh, Fra....ser." The Mountie lay as if dead, his body violated with a trailing array of wires and tubes. There were monitoring patches stuck on his chest, an IV drip stuck in the top of his right hand and an oxygen cannula up his nose. Ray's thoughts darkened. He had seen Fraser in aching torment, sick and hurting and helpless, but somehow this enforced distance between them made the Mountie seem even more despairingly vulnerable. Ray's hands knotted into hard fists and whirling, he viciously one-two punched the partition behind him. Oblivious to his bloodied knuckles, he swung back around and resumed his watch over Fraser.
"The Yank's an emotional sort," Bob Fraser explained to the stunned airman. "He and my son are partners and very close. Nice helicopter, by the way." Bob leaned over to Ray, "I wondered when you'd talk your way up here. I've been keeping an eye on things although I must say everyone seems very capable. Used to know a Porteneau, had a place up the Mink..." Fraser Sr. wandered closer to where his son lay.
Ray rolled his neck trying to release some of his pent-up tension. ‘Probably should apologize to my watch-dog,' he thought and slid a quick look at the Canadian who seemed to have regained his calm mask. ‘Nah, let him think I'm a loose cannon. He won't want to get in my way.' Ray almost smiled. The flashing lights and lines on the various monitors surrounding Fraser drew Ray's attention. ‘Damn it, what does all that stuff mean?' The detective's mouth set into a grim, hard line.
The helicopter hurried on. Unconsciously, Ray continually shifted his position to maintain his visual contact with Fraser. As the helicopter reacted to air disturbances, Ray also reacted, his legs automatically finding stability so he could watch every detail of his friend's treatment. Ray was so absorbed in this vigil that he flinched away when the airman nudged Ray's arm and ahemmed an "Excuse me, Detective."
"Wha...," Ray swallowed. "What?"
"Pardon me, Detective Vecchio, but we'll be landing very soon and you need to return to your seat." The airman gestured toward the back of the copter.
"No," Ray stated, folding his arms across his chest.
"Detective, landings can be rough and I don't think you want to risk crashing into the medical area and possibly endangering Constable Fraser. Safety regulations require passengers to be belted into a seat. We have tried to accommodate your....needs. We now ask that you abide by the measures we have established to protect our personnel, our patients and you, our passenger. I promise that as soon as we touch down, you will be permitted to accompany the doctors and Constable Fraser into the hospital." The Canadian folded his arms across his chest and with a defiant look dared the detective to say no again.
‘Yeah, I see how much I intimidated the guy,' Ray grumbled to himself. He looked around hoping to find a seat in this area. He would sit, but only if he could still see Fraser. There were no seats. Before Ray could form the word "no," a sudden rough hitch in the helicopter's flight staggered him back against the bulkhead.
Seizing the opportunity, the airman grabbed Ray's arm and pulled him back behind the wall. "This way, please." Ray gave up trying to resist, but did insist on being seated in the jump seat the airman had used earlier. It was a lame compromise though it made Ray feel a little bit better. The turbulence had awakened Diefenbaker. Seeing Ray, the wolf yawned widely and flopped back into a sleeping position. ‘Sheesh, dogs have it easy.'
There was a little pitching and yawing as the helicopter settled its wheels back down on the ground, but as soon as he felt the thump of touchdown, Ray unlatched his belt and darted out to the main compartment. Things were happening fast and in the whirl of activity, he found himself stumbling down the exit steps and trying to keep pace with the men racing Fraser's gurney across the frosty tarmac. Doors opened and closed around him and he realized he was in the hospital. Ahead of him, Fraser and the medics disappeared around a corner. Ray skidded as he made the turn and was moving so fast that he almost slammed into the closed doors leading to Operating Room B.
"Wait...,wait, someone....," he stopped and then tested the doors, not really surprised to find them locked. The open-sez-a-me code box to the right of the doors seemed to mock him.
"I'm sorry, sir, you can't go in there," a female voice rushed at him from the left.
"I know. I know that," he said, giving the doors an angry shake. He turned to face the woman. She was a nurse, a nice looking woman probably in her late 30's or early 40's Ray judged. "Is that your friend or perhaps a family member who was just taken in there?" she asked with a sympathetic tone.
"Uh, yeah..., my friend....my partner," Ray mumbled. "My brother," he whispered to himself.
"Detective Vecchio." It was the airman, finally catching up. "You forgot your pack. I wasn't sure what to do about the dog so he's tied up outside by the heliport entrance," he said as he thrust the backpack into Ray's hands.
"Uh, thanks." Ray suddenly felt guilty about how he had treated the guy. "Hey, look....I....well, you know, I sort of......."
The Canadian raised his hand to stop the halting words. He smiled. "You were concerned about Constable Fraser. That's quite understandable. Partners form deep bonds. I, too, have a partner. I hope Constable Fraser will recover quickly. He'll receive excellent care at this facility," he said, nodding at the nurse. "It's not as large as what you're used to in Chicago, but I assure you it has all the state-of-the-art technologies."
"Thank you, I really appreciate all you....and your crew did for us," Ray said gratefully. Unmindful of his battered knuckles, he stuck out his hand, "Thanks, again."
"Good luck to you and Constable Fraser," the airman responded and after a quick, light handshake marched out of sight around the corner.
"Detective?" the nurse asked. "May I show you to our waiting room? You look like you need to sit down. I noticed your hand, should I call a doctor for you?" The woman smiled pleasantly.
‘No. I do not want to go to a waiting room. I hate waiting. I don't do waiting good,' the protests rolled around his head. He looked at the nurse and saw a caring, concerned, nice person who didn't deserve his trouble. "Yeah, the waiting room would be swell. I'm okay though. No doctor for me. Uh, any chance we can smuggle Fraser's wo...ah, dog in? It's really cold out there and Dief, his name is Diefenbaker, is a very sensitive, kinda people dog. I promised Fraser I'd look after his dog and it would mean a lot to both of us." Ray went for his poor, pitiful me look and then zapped her with his patented little boy charming smile.
Nurse Appel, according to her name tag, frowned. "We don't allow animals in the hospital."
Ray rubbed his bearded face wearily. ‘Must be too tired to project irresistable,' he decided and tried another ploy. "You must make exceptions sometimes," he wheedled
The nurse started to shake her head, but checked herself. "Well, hospital rules do allow seeing-eye or guide dogs," she amended.
"Well, there you go," Ray said triumphantly. "Dief does that stuff. He would qualify under that rule. And, he's a police dog. He won't bark or anything. He's very well trained." Ray was stretching the truth, but it was for a good cause. "I promise I'll keep him away from the snack machines," he added.
"What? Well, okay. I guess. Although, he'll need to go in the employee's lounge rather than the waiting area," the nurse relented. "You go get him. I'll keep your pack and wait at this corner.
"Thanks. That's really great. You've been very kind," Ray schmoozed and rushed to get the wolf before Ms. Appel had second thoughts.
"You owe me big time," Ray told Diefenbaker as they trotted back down the hall. "Make nice with the nurses and you can probably stay. And, don't embarrass me by trying to eat their lunches when they're not looking. Just play cute doggie, okay?"
Dief ignored the detective and zeroed in on the kindly Nurse Appel. The wolf arrived first. He immediately sat down nicely in front of the nurse and raised a paw like he wanted to shake hands. "Oh, aren't you darling?" she exclaimed. He gave a soft whine and cocked his head, waving his paw. "Oh, yes, the gals are going to love you," Ms. Appel gushed. "He'll be fine in the lounge, Detective. Why don't you wait here while I get him situated? I'll be right back. Are you hungry, Diefenbaker? I'm sure we can find you some yummy treats."
‘The dog's shameless,' Ray thought with a touch of envy. He sagged against the wall to wait for the nurse's return. He needed to know what was happening with Fraser, but he didn't know who to badger for information. Nurse Appel was the only authoritative figure he had noticed so far. ‘She'll be back any moment and then I'll demand to know what's going on.' His eyes felt gritty. He was very tired. ‘I'm losing my adrenalin rush,' he recognized. ‘Maybe if I just rest my eyes for a minute, they'll feel better.' It was faulty thinking.
"Detective," Nurse Appel cried. She caught Ray before he slid completely to the floor. "Oh, dear, you're exhausted. Let me get you someplace where you can lie down. We do have spare beds," she grunted trying to stabilize the American's weight until he roused enough to regain control.
Ray fought to fully wake up. ‘I gotta find out about Fraser,' he mentally prodded himself. "I'm okay, I'm fine," he practically yelled at the poor nurse. He pushed away from the wall and stood swaying for a minute until he found his equilibrium. He wiped the fogginess from his eyes. "I'm okay," he repeated. "Who do I talk to about Fraser? I gotta know what's goin on."
"Let's go to the waiting area," the nurse said firmly. "The doctor will come there and he can explain what treatment your partner required. It's really the best place for you to be right now." She took Ray's arm and gently tugged him towards her. "Don't forget your belongings," she pointed.
"Yeah, okay," Ray agreed, hooking up the pack. He was grateful for Nurse Appel's guiding hand on his arm. He still felt foggy and the bright corridor lights made his eyes hurt. He couldn't keep track of the turns and color coded hallways so he allowed himself to be pulled towards the waiting room.
"Here we are, Detective," the nurse announced brightly. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'd be happy to bring you some coffee from the lounge. We also have a nice cafeteria in the west wing that carries a full complement of food and drink."
Ray looked around. The little room looked like every other waiting room he'd ever been in except it was cleaner and neater. It was also emptier. This little space was all his. He would be alone with his thoughts. He couldn't decide if that was good or bad.
"Coffee, Detective?" chirped Ms. Appel.
"Uh, yeah. Coffee. Thanks. That would be good. Just black," Ray marshaled a smile for his Florence Nightingale. He chose one of the chairs closest to the door and lowered his weary body into it. As soon as Nurse Appel left to get the coffee, Ray slumped into a sprawl and leaned his head back against the wall. ‘Fraser, buddy, what is happening to you?' Ray tried to conjure up images of his friend resting pain-free and rosy cheeked in a post-op room, but instead a horrific collage of scenes from the past few days strobed across his mind's eye. ‘Damn it, why doesn't somebody come and tell me what's happening?'
Agitation and nervous energy drove Ray to his feet. He panther-stalked around the room, stopping briefly at the window with a view of another wing and then forging on to the doorway. If he'd had a clue where they were keeping Fraser, Ray would have bolted for it. ‘Shit, I don't even know where I am. Besides, I gotta be here when the doctor comes. Where the hell is everybody? I need to know what's going on.' On his third circuit, he almost ran over the ever helpful Nurse Appel.
"Oh, Detective," the nurse cried and quick-stepped backwards to avoid Ray's full-throttled orbit.
"Agh, sorry. Sorry," the detective stopped abruptly and reached out a hand to steady Ms. Appel. "Couldn't sit still," he admitted. "Got kinda anxious. Any word on what's happening?"
The nurse thrust the coffee cup into Ray's hands and nervously smoothed her uniform down over her hips. "I haven't heard anything yet, but it hasn't been very long. I know it's hard to wait," she said, spreading her hands helplessly.
"Yeah, well, it's been a tough time. Fraser's my best friend. I'm just worried, you know. He's never been hurt this bad before," Ray hated the cracking in his voice. He made a show of sipping the coffee. ‘Ugh, tastes as bad as cop shop joe,' he thought, but gave the nurse a big smile anyway. "Thanks for the coffee. I needed that."
"Oh you're welcome. I'll go see if I can find out anything about your friend's condition. I'm sure everything will be all right. Our doctors are wonderful," she smiled warmly and gave Ray's arm a reassuring pat. "I'll be back as soon as I know something."
"Any news would be great," Ray couldn't control the desperate edge to his words. "You'll tell me right away?"
"Of course, Detective, as soon as I know anything," Ms. Appel repeated and hustled out of the room on her mission.
Ray took another swallow of coffee, grimaced and looked for a place to discreetly dump the rest. "Aghh, the plants don't deserve this either," he muttered, putting the cup on a table instead. The detective wandered back to the window and stared out at the snowy ground separating the two hospital wings.
"How're doin, buddy?" he whispered. He hugged the extra folds of Fraser's shirt around his lean body. The flannel felt soft and oddly comforting under Ray's hands. He could envision Fraser rolling up the sleeves of the shirt and strong and sure, splitting a stack of wood. ‘You're going to be all right,' Ray thought fiercely. He rested his forehead against the cold window pane. "Please, somebody, tell me something." His impassioned words fogged the glass around his head.
His roiling emotions drained away the last of his reserve energy and Ray almost staggered on his way back to his chair. ‘This is hell. I hate this waiting and not knowing. Where is Nurse Helpful anyway?' He knew he was being unfair, but he didn't care. "Damn it." He slouched forward over his legs and elbows on knees, rested his head in his hands. He felt almost physically sick from the thoughts rampaging through his mind.
"Excuse me, Detective? Detective." Nurse Appel was back. "They have just finished in the O.R. The doctor will be here shortly." She lifted her hand and shook her head to Ray's unasked question, "I don't have any more information, but the doctor will talk to you in a few minutes."
Ray was suddenly very nervous as he rose stiffly to his feet. His hand dropped to the hem of his shirt, his fingers rubbing the flannel fabric like a worry stone. ‘It's gonna be okay. Fraser's gonna be fine. It's gonna be okay. Fraser's gonna be fine.'
"Would you like me to wait here with you, Detective?" the nurse asked quietly. "Sometimes, it helps to have another person present. It's easy to get distracted and miss details in these circumstances."
It took a minute for Ray to absorb her words over the throbbing rush of blood pounding in his ears. "Yeah, okay. Tha'd be good," he managed to spit out.
Seeing the troubled, stressed look on the detective's face, Ms. Appel searched for an upbeat topic. "Diefenbaker is fine. Don't worry about that. One of the gals bought him a hamburger from the cafeteria," she chuckled. "He's quite a dog. Several of the nurses are already talking about.....," she broke off as two men in blood-stained green scrubs stepped into the room.
Ray's instinct was to recoil from the sight of the blood, Fraser's blood, but he stood firm. Before either doctor could speak, Ray hit them with a barrage of questions, "How is he? Is he gonna be all right? Can I see him now?" The detective looked frantically from one man to the other.
"Perhaps you would like to sit down and we can discuss the Constable's condition," said the older, gray-haired doctor waving a hand at the seats behind Ray.
"Uh, no, I'm okay. How is Fraser? I need to know how he is. Tell me how he is," Ray ‘s voice was pitching into shout volume.
"Of course, of course," the doctor said in a soothing tone. "But please sit down. I have been on my feet for a long time and my back needs a rest," he continued, dragging a chair away from the wall and settling into it.
Ray grunted an affirmative and impatiently dropped into his original seat, shifting slightly to face the doctor. Nurse Appel and the second man, who Ray now recognized as Constable Porteneau, remained standing just behind the doctor's chair.
"I'm Dr. Shields. Constable Fraser is in post-op right now. As soon as we are sure he is stable, he will be moved into a critical care unit. To summarize our evaluation, the head wound is healing well and does not present a problem.. Our main concern is the abdominal wound. In some ways, we were lucky in the location of the original bullet. Stomach wounds are particularly nasty and can cause a lot of internal destruction, but this one did relatively little damage that way. The bullet did nick the spleen and perforated a small portion of the intestines, but missed the colon. Fortunately, there was no bullet fragmentation or ricochet effect once it penetrated the body. The intestinal tract tear was an easy repair and the spleen did not require any additional surgery....."
"He's gonna be okay then, right?" Ray interrupted, joy starting to replace the abject fear of a few minutes earlier.
"Please, let me finish," Dr. Shields commanded. The somber look on his face sent Ray's blood pressure skyward again. Ray's hands clutched at Fraser's shirt like it was a talisman.
"Unfortunately, the wound was not properly treated." Ray opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor hurried on. "I realize this happened in a very remote area and medical supplies were scant." He looked at the detective's stricken expression and offered a sympathetic smile. "Under those circumstances, you did a very commendable job in treating Constable Fraser, but the wound has become septic. The puncture in the intestines leaked toxic bacteria into the Constable's bloodstream and has caused a severe state of infection in his system. You had no means of treating that, but it has led to a dangerous condition," the doctor concluded.
"Will he be all right? I mean, he'll get better, right? You're giving him stuff to make him better, right?" Ray felt like his skull was caving in from the awful weight of the doctor's words.
Dr. Shields spoke carefully. "Sepsis is very serious. In advanced stages, it is potentially life threatening. The blood is essentially poisoned, but that does not mean it is......necessarily...a fatal condition. Constable Fraser is young and strong which is a huge asset. We are fighting this infection very aggressively and are expecting a favorable outcome."
Ray could only stare at the doctor. He didn't trust himself to speak. He wasn't even sure he could move.
"Do you have any questions for me?" the doctor asked. "The treatment is rather detailed and I suspect you need time to think about what I have just told you, but I'll be happy to respond to any concerns you have."
Ray just shook his head.
"I need to prepare for rounds," the doctor announced as he got to his feet. "Nurse, please show the Detective where my office is in case he needs to discuss something with me later. Constable Porteneau, thank you for your assistance. It's always a pleasure to work with you." The doctor turned to go.
"Uh, wait," Ray croaked. "Can I see him? Can I see Fraser?"
Dr. Shields turned back around and faced the distraught detective. The doctor hesitated. "Yes, that would be fine, but after we get the Constable set up in the CCU. I'll send someone to get you." He smiled briefly and left the room.
Nurse Appel timidly touched Ray's shoulder. "Detective?" she prodded. "Is there anything I can do for you while you're waiting? Can I bring you anything? Would you like to see Diefenbaker?"
Ray appreciated the woman's efforts to be kind, but he couldn't handle nice right now. He really couldn't handle much right now. "No.....thank you. I just need....to think for a little bit. Uh, I'm sure Dief is lapping up the attention from your friends. I'll check on him later." Ray tried to smile, but wasn't sure he actually pulled it off. "Uh, thanks."
"You're welcome. Well, okay, if you're sure you'll be all right. I really should check on a few things anyway. You can have me paged if you need anything or if you have any questions I can help you with." The nurse paused. "I know your friend's condition sounds pretty bad, but I'm sure it will be all right. Dr. Shields is a very good doctor," she finished encouragingly.
"Yeah, it will be all right." Ray repeated dully. His murmured "thanks" was muffled as he dropped his head back into his hands. Part of him wanted to lash out and hit something. ‘Hell, I can't even keep my head up, much less make a fist.' He felt so defeated. He had thought getting Fraser to the hospital would be the magic cure. ‘No more suffering, no more pain. Presto, instant recovery,' his derisive laugh came out as a groan. He lifted his head and was startled to find a staring Porteneau in the doctor's vacated chair.
"Uh,...what?" Ray's surprise took on a defensive tone.
"There was no time to talk to you before. Things were.....hectic," the Canadian smiled grimly. "I'm sure you wondered how the RCMP knew to come to the Constable's cabin."
Ray nodded, although, in truth, he hadn't stopped worrying long enough to question it. "Go on," he waved at Porteneau.
"Constable Fraser is well known in the RCMP. His father was sort of legendary and Ben is rapidly achieving that same mark."
"You know Fraser?" Ray interrupted, somehow surprised by the familiarity.
"Constable Fraser and I trained together and have had several joint assignments," Porteneau confirmed. "Sergeant March and Constable Harrod have also worked with Ben off and on over the years. Anyway, I....we were stunned when we heard that he had been killed by an assassin. It seemed impossible that both father and son would be felled in the same manner.
"An Inspector Thatcher, the commanding officer in Chicago I'm told, called with the news and ordered that the RCMP retrieve the body. We had also been warned that you had been dispatched earlier to bring Ben back to Chicago and would probably need some assistance as well." Porteneau shook his head. "It was a grim assignment, but we all volunteered because we had personal ties.
"When we discovered Ben was still alive, we were quite elated. I want to say thank you for that. Given his condition, there is little doubt that he would have died without your help. Now there's a good chance to save him. He's tough. I guess I don't have to tell you that. I have seen him endure incredible things. He'll get through this, Detective. He has a good partner by his side." Porteneau coughed to cover the emotional edge. "Well, it's time for me to report in and then, I will return to my posting. We will be monitoring Ben's progress though. Good luck, Detective." He stood and offered his hand.
Ray stumbled to his feet and grasped the Canadian's hand. He shook it with a grateful fervor. The man's words meant a lot to him. "Thanks for....everything," he said simply.
Porteneau nodded and started to leave the room, but paused by the door. "Tell Ben that Andre says to watch his back, I have not forgotten the walrus pie incident." With a brisk wave, Constable Porteneau exited.
‘Walrus pie???' Ray wondered. ‘Fraser, you freak.' The light moment passed quickly and Ray was once more restlessly pacing the room. ‘His Mountie buddies think Fraser'll pull through. Porkynose is a doctor or medic or something so he should know.' Ray was trying to tally all the positives. ‘Fraser's strong and the doctors here are really good according to Nurse ah, what's her name. Yeah, he's gonna be all right. He's gonna beat this thing.' Ray just wished he could truly believe it.
Fifteen minutes later, Ray was still making his agitated laps when Nurse Appel reappeared. "Detective Vecchio, excuse me, you have a phone call. It's a Lieutenant Welsh calling. From Chicago."
Ray was momentarily torn. He wasn't sure what to say to Welsh. He knew the Lieutenant and the others would want to hear something positive and sepsis wasn't a good diagnosis. ‘But, a voice from home would sound really great right now.'
"Uh, I'm waiting to see Fraser. Will someone get me even though I'm on the phone?" Ray asked anxiously.
"Oh, yes, Detective," the nurse assured him. "The Constable is still in recovery," she bit her lip and rushed on, "but, I'll come get you as soon as they are ready to move him."
"Yeah, okay, let's go then," Ray agreed.
Nurse Appel directed him into a small, private office furnished spartanly with just a desk, chair and single filing cabinet. Ray slid a hip onto the desk and with a hunch of his shoulder and neck clamped the phone to his ear. His fingers nervously pleated the hem of Fraser's shirt. "Hey, Lieutenant...." The detective smiled as Welsh's gruff bark filled the earpiece.
When Ray finally hung up, his neck needed a swift crack to make it work again. He had tried to be encouraging, but he knew Welsh was reading between the lines and appreciated the seriousness of the situation. Still, the lieutenant's familiar tones brought Ray a certain comfort. Welsh also filled in the remaining gaps in the rescue story.
‘Dante, I owe ya big time,' Ray reflected. Dante Speca, the primo mob snitch, had appeared again, anxious to sell the last chapter of the Warfield hit story. It seemed the assassin had come to town looking for the rest of his payment. "I did the job. The Mountie's dead. Put him down with one shot, but put in an insurance shot anyway. Where's my money?"
According to Welsh via Dante, the new regime in mobster land was not pleased to have this goomba running around bragging about an ill-advised police hit and then trying to put the squeeze on for more money. Fraser's assailant was quietly removed from the scene and later found floating under one of the north side piers. He had not died easy.
Ray sighed as he reran the story through his head. ‘I wish I coulda brought down the scumbag myself,' he thought, but the heat of revenge was lost in his worry about Fraser's recovery. ‘Gotta focus on what's important, gotta get Fraser better.'
There was a light knock on the door, followed by Nurse Appel's lilting voice, "Detective Vecchio?"
"Yeah?" Ray yanked open the door. "Can I see Fraser now?"
The nurse smiled and nodded, "Yes, I can take you to see your friend now." A frown flitted across her face, "Um, he's not awake yet. You won't be able to stay very long, but you can at least see him for a few minutes."
"Good. That's good. Yeah, let's go," Ray ran his hands nervously through his hair. "Yeah, I'm ready."
Nurse Appel found some clean scrub pants in his size which he gladly exchanged for his filthy jeans. "They should be burned," he suggested with a sheepish grin. The nurse and detective mildly tussled over the flannel shirt, but Ray wasn't ready to give that up. He felt kind of goofy in the sterile gown, mask, booties and cap regulations decreed he wear when visiting critical care.
"Fraser won't even recognize me," Ray groused. "Or else, he'll think he's having a nightmare. Dr. Demento coming to pay him a little visit, hee, hee." Ray flapped his gowned arms menacingly. With a shiver of shock, he let his arms fall back to his sides. ‘Fraser's probably already having nightmares about me sticking that knife in him.' Ray wanted to throw up.
There were four beds in the critical care unit, each positioned towards a corner of the room and each surrounded by a myriad of monitoring equipment. Only two of the beds were occupied. Ray instinctively knew Fraser was in the corner farthest from the door, but the detective's practiced eye scanned the person in the bed to his right.
He couldn't tell if the wizened stick whose life was being measured by whirring, blinking machines was male or female. ‘G-d, I hate this. Fraser shouldn't be in a place like this. This is for old, sick people, not Mounties.' Ray pulled the mask covering his nose and mouth slightly away from his face so he could catch his breath.
With hesitant steps, he threaded his way to his friend's bedside. The detective was dazzled by the various LCDs, flashing constant data about Fraser's condition. The man himself seemed lost in the maze of tubing and wires feeding info to the surrounding machines.
Bob Fraser shifted to make room for Ray. "Glad you're here, Yank. This is a mighty lonely place."
"Shit," Ray swore. He wanted to be reassured that Fraser was okay, but he looked like the victim of some grotesque X-Files alien experiment. Ray struggled to accept the fact that the IV drips and machines were there to help. They seemed to be sucking the life out of their human host. "Damn it, Fraser, damn it," Ray's voice shook with emotion.
The Mountie was diminished by all hardware haloing his bed. Only his dark hair stood out against the white sheets. His skin looked almost transparent. The bluish threads of the blood vessels were clearly visible beneath the surface. The pinched twist of his face said that the pain was just beneath the surface as well.
Ray wanted to grab his friend and pull him out of this awful room. He wanted to take him far away from this place of suffering. He was afraid Fraser would end up like the person by the door. Ray had to consciously remember to breathe. His fear threatened to suffocate him. He stood there, helplessly staring at the man in the bed. He stood there, trying to remember his friend as a vital, strong person. Tears left misshapen blotches on the mask tied around Ray's lower face.
Bob Fraser sympathized. "I know, Yank. Benton doesn't look so good. He's a fighter though. He's going to be all right. You'll see." The old man laid a ghostly hand on his son's forehead. "You have to get better, Son. You have many more things to do in your life."
Ray eventually became aware of whispering behind him. He had just given his eyes a quick wipe when there was a light tap on his arm. "Detective Vecchio?" Nurse Appel's hushed tones were almost lost in the insect-like hum of the monitoring equipment. "We really should leave now. Someone will call you when Constable Fraser is awake. You'll be able to come back then."
"But," Ray started to protest, even though he hated being in this place. "Fraser needs to know I'm here. He shouldn't be alone."
"I haven't left his side, Yank" Bob Fraser objected. "I've been with him the whole time and I don't mind telling you that an operating room is not for the faint-hearted. Benton, remember when Sulky Peters tried to go logging after downing several pints of Malcolm's home brew? Now that was a mess. You should never fall down on a running chain saw," Bob lectured somberly.
"He won't be alone, Detective," intoned a new voice. Ray looked around straight into the hazel eyes of another masked nurse. "There will be a nurse here at all times. According to his charts, he was given a heavy sedative so he will be un....sleeping for several hours yet. He wouldn't even be aware of your presence. I promise you will be called as soon as the constable awakens."
Nurse Appel latched onto Ray's arm and drew him towards the door. "Thanks, Rachelle," Ms. Appel murmured. "Have the operator page me when Detective Vecchio can return."
"This way, please, Detective."
Nurse Appel persuaded Ray to come back with her to the nurse's lounge to check on Diefenbaker. As Ray expected, the wolf was enjoying the attention of several nurses and barely acknowledged the detective's arrival. "Rotten ingrate dog," Ray mouthed, trusting Dief really could lip-read. The wolf gave a small, irritated woof and turned back to his adoring audience. Ray shrugged. ‘If the furs fits...'
His self-appointed guardian nurse was also insistent that the detective grab a shower and a shave. "You'll feel so much better. You're probably a nice looking guy under all that scruffiness," she teased.
Decked out later in clean clothes the enterprising Nurse Appel had commandeered from one of the interns, Ray did admit that he felt like a new man. He even relinquished the flannel shirt, but only after Ms. Appel promised to wash it herself and return it to him the next day. ‘‘It's my lucky shirt," he offered as an explanation, "and I need all the good vibes I can get. Cops," he smiled, "lots of superstitions."
The two of them were in the cafeteria when the page came from the critical care unit. Ray almost choked on his last bite of lasagna. He desperately wanted to see his friend. ‘But, will it really be Fraser behind those eyes?' The trip back to the CCU took on a surreal quality as conflicting images and emotions warred in Ray's head.
After making sure Ray was properly attired, Nurse Appel excused herself. "I have some duties that require my attention, but Rachelle will answer any questions you may have. She can have me paged when you have finished your visit. I hope it goes well." She gave him an encouraging smile.
The room looked exactly the same. Ray mentally shut out the human bundle next to the door. As he made his way to the far corner, he fitfully tugged at his covering gown His stomach hurt from anxiety. "Fraser?" Ray's voice sounded unnatural even to his ears. The head on the pillow shifted slightly.
"The Yank's here, Son. Try to wake up," Bob Fraser urged.
"Fraser," Ray tried again and angled over the bed so he could make eye contact. The Mountie blinked, the dark lashes fluttering weakly with the struggle to focus. "It's Ray. I'm here, buddy." Maybe, Fraser understood him. Ray wanted to think so. Ben couldn't keep his eyes open though and with a troubled sigh, appeared to lose consciousness.
Ray caught a red flash from one of the monitors in his peripheral vision. "What was that? What happened?" Panic fired his voice.
"It's all right, Detective," the nurse named Rachelle soothed. She checked the monitor and scribbled a note on the nearby hanging chart. "Your friend isn't completely awake yet. I probably should have waited, but I knew you were anxious to see him. He's further under than I calculated, I'm sorry," she apologized.
"Yeah, okay. But, he is waking up, right? I mean there's no reason he won't wake up, right? There's no coma thing? " Ray looked at the nurse for confirmation.
"No, Detective, there's no reason to be concerned about that. He'll be awake shortly. Though I should warn you, he will probably go right back to sleep. He's very weak right now."
"I know. I know that. I just want him to know I'm here. That he has a friend with him."
"And a father," interjected Bob Fraser peckishly. "I've been with him the whole time. Not that anyone seems to notice. Being dead is so exclusionary," he groused.
There was a low moan from the bed. Fraser was fighting to wake up. His head moved fretfully on the pillow. His mouth worked around silent syllables.
"Oh, that's good, Son. It's time for you to wake up. There are people waiting to see you. Come on, Benton, you need to wake up now." Bob leaned over and peered intently into his son's face. "You always were a sound sleeper. You take after me I suppose. Heaven knows, I could never sneak past your mother. The woman slept with one ear, maybe both, open. It really......"
"Da.....?" Ben finally got his eyes opened. The sight of his father inches from his face caused him to gasp, go wide-eyed and then scrinch his eyes closed again.
"Well, really, Benton," Fraser Sr. snorted.
"Da.....?" The voice sounded corroded. "Da...dd?" His eyes blinked open again and strove to focus on the wavery image of his father's face. "Da....dd."
‘Omigod, what is he looking at? What is he saying?' Ray's eyebrows shot up under the edge of his sterile cap. "Fraser, Fraser, it's me, Ray. It's Ray!" He tried to verbally pull the Mountie's stare towards him.
"Constable Fraser? Constable Fraser?" The nurse joined in.
"Yes, Son, I'm here. You're in the hospital. You were shot." Bob Fraser rambled on.
"O........h." The sudden clamor was too much and Ben gratefully sank back into the quiet darkness.
"He's asleep again," Rachelle affirmed after a quick read of a monitor.
Ray grabbed Rachelle's arm and gave her a wild, questioning look. "Fraser's dad is dead. He was shot by....Is Fraser all right? Did that head wound, you know, screw up his mind or something? Shit." It never occurred to Ray that there could be brain damage. The thought flat out terrified him.
The nurse shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. Anesthetic sometimes causes hallucinations. The constable has had a severe trauma. That, too, can cause disorientation. Of course, I'll discuss it with the doctor, but I don't think there's any cause for concern." she finished more positively.
Ray realized he was still gripping her arm and gently released it. "Uh, sorry, I got a little shook up there. You know, first time awake and he's seeing dead guys. It kinda spooked me."
Rachelle waved a dismissive hand. "It's all right, Detective. That kind of thing is alarming." Her eyes crinkled like she was smiling under her mask.
"Look, can I stay for a while?" Ray asked. "Just to kind of make sure everything's all right. You won't even know I'm here. I'll stay out of the way."
Rachelle started to say no, but knowing how upset the detective was, she relented. "Just for a little while longer. Constable Fraser will probably just be sleeping, but yes, you can stay."
"I could use the company," Bob Fraser decided. "Benton isn't much of a conversationalist right now and the nurses are too busy. This actually reminds me of a time out in Buffalo Narrows. Of course, there was no hospital, but....." Bob prattled on, lost in happy reminiscing.
Dr. Shields came in some time later. He conferred with Rachelle for a few minutes and then came over to where Ray stood his quiet watch. "I'm told our patient has had some periods of wakefulness. That's excellent. I want to assure you that confusion in a sepsis patient during this semi-wakeful state is perfectly natural so please do not be concerned about Constable Fraser's mental state. Diagnostically, there is no indication of any brain damage."
"Benton always was hard-headed," Bob Fraser offered helpfully.
"Uh, thanks, Doctor, that's good to know. When do ya think he will really wake up? You know, so he knows who he is and who I am?"
The doctor patted Ray's shoulder. "It's hard to say exactly. The sedatives we administered affect people differently. Constable Fraser's system is severely compromised right now and that may skew the timing." Dr. Shields glanced at the clock hanging on the east wall. He then perused the chart Rachelle had been working on earlier. He replaced it and bent over Fraser. "Let's examine the constable and see where we are."
The doctor poked and prodded and adjusted and gently pushed up the Mountie's eyelids. "Hmmmm," Dr. Shields hummed with a satisfied air. "I think Constable Fraser will be regaining a higher, more stable level of consciousness within the next half hour or so. Nurse, please have me paged when the patient is fully awake." The doctor clapped Ray on the back and nodded a good-bye.
"Half an hour or so" was an eternity to Ray. ‘Of course, it figures there's something wrong with the clock. The damn thing has frozen up. It has only moved two minutes in the last ten.' Ray's eyes swept ceaselessly between Fraser's right hand, waiting for the telltale flexing that signaled he was waking up, and the clock's stark black hand, waiting for it to tick off the precious minutes until Fraser woke up. The detective used all his willpower to force the clock to move faster. The Mountie beat Dr. Shields' estimate by 15 minutes. As Ray's eyes moved from hand to hand, clock face to Fraser's face, Ray suddenly noticed that Fraser's eyes were open.
"Fraser?" Ray was so startled, he wasn't sure he had actually spoken out loud. The Mountie's head turned to the sound though and two sets of blue eyes locked onto each other. "Hey, buddy, welcome back." Ray was smiling hard enough to almost split the mask covering his nose and mouth.
Something was wrong. It didn't take a detective to read the confusion and fear in Fraser's eyes. The Mountie's face crumbled into an agitated jumble of emotions. "It's okay, Fraser. It's me, Ray. I have to wear this mask, because you're in the hospital. You're okay. It's really me under here." Ray tried to keep his voice level and recognizable. The unfamiliar surroundings and seemingly strange masked person hovering over him obviously panicked Fraser.
Ben blinked. His mind couldn't grasp what was happening. He hurt. Badly. Why? He could hear words, but they seemed to come from a very great distance and had no meaning. He sensed he should know the person standing by him, but he couldn't make the link.
"Hello, Son," Bob Fraser caroled from over Ray's left shoulder. "Glad to see you're finally awake. You've been out of it quite a while. I suppose that's to be expected. The Yank here has been plenty worried though."
More soupy words, but Ben rolled his eyes towards the source. He knew that face. Dad. Still the pain. Fragments of thought slid through Ben's mind. He couldn't put them in order. But...Dad. It would be all right. Ben closed his eyes again. The dark gave him the peace to sort things out.
Ray fought with his own panic. ‘The doc said Fraser was okay - no brain damage, but he didn't know me. He's supposed to be waking up and being alert. Shit, is this normal?' Ray looked around for Rachelle.
"Benton, you can't sleep your life away. It's time to wake up, Son. I know you're playing possum. You have to wake up now." Bob Fraser goaded. "The Yank's about to come unwired," he added.
Ben tried to move away from the droning voice, but the little shift in position brought an electric surge of pain. "Aaaaahhhhhh." His eyes opened involuntarily.
"Easy. It's okay, Fraser. You're in the hospital. You're gonna be okay. I'm here with you. Ray. I'm here." Ray lightly touched his friend's bare shoulder above one of the monitoring patches.
‘Ray. Hospital.' In a dim way, Ben understood this. He found his friend's eyes and made the connection. ‘Ray.'
"It's okay, buddy. The docs gave you some sleeping stuff that's making things kinda fuzzy," Ray maintained, hoping that was indeed the problem. "Guess this mask doesn't help things either."
"Ra......," Fraser fought to drag the syllable through his rusted throat.
"Yeah, buddy. It's me, Ray, but don't try to talk," the detective soothed. Ray battled to keep his words even and soft. He wanted to yell with joy and slap a high five with someone. He wanted to pull Fraser out of the bed and dance him around the room. Instead, he said, "You need to save your strength. You gotta concentrate on getting better now." Ray worked at projecting an outward calm. ‘Fraser knows me. He's gonna be all right.' The detective grabbed onto the bed rails to keep himself grounded.
"Uh, guess you know you're in the hospital. Remember? You got shot and there are.....well, there's an infection that's making you kinda sick. But, you're gonna be okay. The people here are real good so you're gonna be all right," Ray turned and gave Rachelle an excited wave to show Fraser was awake. The page for Dr. Shields echoed softly in the room.
"Yes, Son, you're going to be fine. It takes more than a little bullet to keep a Mountie down." Bob Fraser concurred.
The pain was awful and it hurt to even breathe, but Ben inherently trusted his friend and his father. ‘I'll.....be.....o....kay.' The restful dark beckoned to him and he closed his eyes.
"Constable Fraser? Constable Fraser." A new voice buzzed in the blackness. Ben wanted to ignore it and stay hidden, but ingrained training made him once more open his eyes.
"Hello, Constable, I'm Dr. Shields. I know you're very tired and I encourage you to sleep, but I need to check a few things first. Do you remember what happened to you? Do you know where you are? On a scale of one to ten......."
Ray winced in sympathy as Fraser raw voice scratched out responses to the doctor's questions. ‘At least, Fraser's tracking all right,' Ray thought with relief. He grew concerned as he watched his friend struggling to answer the successive questions. Each new reply was clearly costing Fraser. The Mountie's mouth trembled as he labored to shape his words and his eyes went dull with hurt. ‘He needs painkillers. This is torture.'
"Are you feeling nauseated, Constable?" Dr. Shields queried.
"N....ooo," Fraser panted through a clenched jaw, beads of sweat glinting on his pallid skin.
‘Come on, this is a hospital, not an interrogation room. Stop grilling him.' "Give him a break. He needs something for the pain," Ray's aggravation found voice.
"I'm sorry, Detective, what did you say?" Dr. Shields swung his head toward Ray.
"Uh, he's hurting. Give him something for the pain. " Ray tried to keep the outrage out of his tones.
"Yes, of course," Dr. Shields replied patiently and turned his attention back to Fraser. "Just a few more questions, Constable, and then you can sleep. Okay?" Ray sighed when he saw Fraser's feeble nod.
Finally, the doctor stopped his examination and adjusted a regulator on one of the IV drips attached to Fraser. "This should help you rest more comfortably, Constable. The nursing staff will be constantly monitoring you so if you need anything, please let them know and they will contact me. I will be checking in periodically as well. Rest well." Within minutes, it appeared that Ben was sleeping soundly. The doctor penned in some notes on Fraser's chart and turned to go. He shrugged when he saw Ray's baleful glare.
"I suppose it seemed....uncaring to ask so many questions of Constable Fraser right now. It was necessary to ascertain his level of coherence and the degree of the pain he was experiencing. Over drugging a patient whose system is so badly compromised can cause a myriad of other problems."
"Yeah, okay. I can see that. How's he doing? He's gonna be all right, isn't he? I mean, I know this sepsis stuff is really bad, but Fraser's doing pretty good, isn't he?" Ray desperately wanted to hear some good news.
"This first exam was...satisfactory," Dr. Shields hedged. "Constable Fraser is young and fit and,from all indications, has led a healthy lifestyle. Those factors can make a big difference. We'll know more in the next 48 hours."
The next two days were hell for Ray. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, there was no escape from the fact that Fraser was very, very sick. The Mountie's fever spiked and ebbed. Scary words like "shock" and "pulmonary edema" ghosted past Ray as he stood his vigil. When Fraser's breathing became more labored, the oxygen cannula in his nose was replaced by a ventilator. Dr. Shields ordered stronger doses of neuromuscular blockers and sedatives. "It's to reduce tissue oxygen demand," he explained to the worried detective. Such explanations only increased Ray's stress level. ‘What does that mean? Is Fraser suffocating? I don't want to know things like that.'
On the morning of the third day, the ventilator was removed and the nasal cannula was put back in place. "Constable Fraser is responding well to the antibiotic therapy," Dr. Shields pronounced later that day after an intensive examination of the Mountie and analysis of the various tests. "If the progress continues, we should be able to move him to a regular medical unit in the next couple of days."
"I told you, Yank. Benton's tough. He's going to be fine," Bob Fraser exulted. "Never doubted it. He is a Mountie, after all."
Ray just stared at the doctor. Everything had been so grim for so long, the detective couldn't quite grasp the idea that Fraser was getting well. "It looks like we've turned the corner here," Dr. Shields repeated. "Your friend has passed a major crisis point."
This time Ray got it. ‘Thank G-d. Fraser's going to be all right. He's going to all right.' Elation, relief, gratitude, all stormed through Ray's system, leaving him emotionally drained. He grabbed the doctor's hand like a lifeline and shook it fervently. "Thank you," the detective said simply. "Thank you."
Despite the doctor's encouraging words, the next 24 hours brought little visible changes in Fraser's condition. Even though the Mountie was still in a sedated sleep most of the time, Ray hated to leave for even essential things. He didn't want his friend waking up in the company of strangers. ‘The nurses are probably whispering about the weirdo who won't let the Mountie rest in peace,' Ray mused, then he shuddered at the idea of rest in peace. Once again, it hammered into him how close he had come to losing Fraser. Ray knew the "what if" question would haunt him for a long time.
Even by Ray's stringent standards, the critical care nursing staff treated Fraser extremely well, tenderly bathing him as needed, gently adjusting the various drips and tubes that kept him comfortable. ‘I should relax and let them do their thing,' Ray thought. He mentally shrugged. ‘Fraser will be up and about soon. I'll just hang on till then.'
A change in one of the monitors caught Ray's eye. He had been observing things long enough to know that blip meant Fraser would be waking up soon. The detective slipped closer to the bed, watching intently for the twitches and flutters that meant his friend was regaining consciousness.
"Can't sleep your life away, Son," Bob Fraser breathed into Benton's right ear. "It's time to saddle up and get on with things. Need to get out and get a snort of good, crisp Canadian air. Nothing finer, Son. Never could abide hospitals," he continued to mutter. "Dismal places, all these sick people around."
Ray started to grin when he saw Fraser's hand make a feeble, but definite swatting motion up by his ear. The Mountie was waking up. Making sure the IV was still in place, Ray eased Fraser's arm back down along his side. "Hey, buddy," the detective murmured.
After a few more minutes and a series of rapid blinks, Fraser's blue eyes peered up at Ray. "H,hh...hi," the syllable sounded creaky coming from the back of the Mountie's throat. It was music to Ray's ears though.
"Hey, Fraser, how ya doing?" Ray answered. He didn't expect a response, but Fraser's forehead furrowed as the Mountie considered the question.
"O.....kaaay," Ben croaked finally. He cut his eyes around and looked at the machines that surrounded him.
"You're still in the hospital, but you're doin great. The doc says you get your own private room real soon," Ray waved at the monitors, "and get to ditch some of these bleeping beeping things."
"Hello, Constable," chirped Rachelle. Ray didn't quite suppress his little yip of surprise. "Geez, Rachelle, don't be sneakin up on people. Uh, Fraser, this is Rachelle. She's been the main nurse taking care of you in here. Well, there have been others, of course, but....," Ray clamped his mouth closed over the stream of babbling.
Rachelle ignored him and bent over Fraser. "Excuse me, Detective, I need to check some things and ask Constable Fraser a few questions."
"Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever," Ray agreed and stepped back to allow the nurse free access to Fraser's bedside.
"I think we're finally on our way, Yank," Bob Fraser opined. "Benton will be on his feet any time now and we can all get on with business. Doesn't do to be down for long. A man can get soft. Scutter Martin. Back in ‘63, old Scutter....." Bob revved up into his storytelling mode.
Ray was close enough to hear Fraser's soft sigh and see his head loll slightly to one side. Before any panic could take hold, Rachelle touched Ray's arm. "It's okay, Detective, he sleeping again. He's really doing very well. Dr. Shields will be pleased."
"Good....that's go,goo..od," Ray stuttered. He almost staggered as all his pent-up anxiety suddenly ballooned away. He was awfully tired.
"You, on the other hand, look positively exhausted," Rachelle scolded, cocking her head to really look at him. "You've been here night and day, hardly eating or sleeping. You're going to collapse if you don't get some rest. Your friend is doing fine. I promise you, we'll take good care of him. It's okay to leave and take care of yourself now. I really think you should."
Ray shook his head and mustered up a strong, breezy tone. "Nah, I'm good. I'm a cop. I'm used to operating on my feet. Couple cups of coffee and I'm powered up for whatever. Maybe not Super Man, but darn close." Ray threw a wink at the frowning nurse. ‘She's not buying this crap, but it doesn't matter. I'm not leaving until Fraser does.'
"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?" Rachelle asked.
"Nope," Ray agreed and gave her a good-bye wave before turning back to study Fraser as he slept. The Mountie's features had smoothed out over the past day or so. He no longer looked like every breath stirred some deep-rooted pain. His hands lay relaxed by his sides, not crabbed and white knuckle frozen in a hurtful spasm. He was still very pale, but not the translucent non-color that barely concealed his blood vessels and bones. Ray could look at his friend and see improvements. He started to truly believe that Fraser would recover.
As the day progressed, Fraser woke up more often and stayed awake longer. Ray reveled in the clarity of Ben's eyes and his increasing strength. Dr. Shields administered a quick physical exam during one of Fraser's late afternoon periods of wakefulness. "This is very good," the doctor proclaimed, his fingers rap-tapping at one of the numbers on Fraser's chart. "The antibiotic treatment has effectively eliminated the infection. Blood pressure and arterial blood gasses look good. Hmmm, vast improvement in the hemodynamics,...." The doctor looked up, "Oh, excuse me, Constable. If these readings remain stable over night, I will have you moved to a medical unit first thing in the morning. I imagine you're ready to be shed of some of these tubes and monitors." Though half-asleep, Fraser managed a nod of agreement.
The transfer took place about 10:00 the next morning. Under Dr. Shields' supervision, the day nurse secured tubes and lines, readying them for moving. Most of the monitoring patches were removed, leaving numerous small circles pocked into Fraser's pale skin. ‘Looks like he's been tangling with an octopus,' Ray thought. "Hey, buddy, I think we're about ready to rock and roll," he said and gave Fraser a wink and a thumb's up.
The Mountie's mouth worked into a smile. Two burly orderlies shifted Fraser onto a gurney while the nurse fussed with cords and bags. "Well, Constable, in a few minutes you'll be comfortably situated in your own room." The doctor chuckled. "Seems you have some friends in high places. Normally, we would move you to a semi-private room, but a very determined ranking RMCP officer insisted you get the V.I.P. treatment." Dr. Shields patted Ben's shoulder. "I'll check in with you later today to see how you are doing."
"Than...kk, you, Doc...tor," Fraser's voice sounded rough and gravelly. "Thank....you, Nur....se," he added politely.
After the subdued lighting of the critical care unit, the bright corridor lights seemed as glaring as sunlight on fresh snow. Both Ray and Fraser blinked protectively against the harsh brightness.
"Feels good to be rolling again, doesn't it, Son? Once you get where you're going, you should think about getting up and using those legs of yours. Lying around in bed all this time can't have done anything good for your muscle tone. Have to stay limber and ready, you know," Bob Fraser's sage advice bounced along the corridor walls following Ben as he was ferried to his new room.
‘No rest...for the weary....with Dad around,' Ben thought exhaustedly. ‘He'd have me....doing....calisthenics by tomorrow.' The thought of returning to the nice, quiet, dark critical care unit had a certain appeal. ‘There are....some definite....drawbacks....to being haunted....by a gung-ho Mountie like Bob Fraser.' Ben sighed.
"Feels good to be moving again, doesn't it, Fraser?" Ray had untied his mask and snatched the CCU cap off his hair. His grin out dazzled the lights. "You'll probably be up and at'em real quick now. The doctor says you're doing really good."
Ben tried an answering half smile. ‘Maybe....I can....lapse into...a coma....for a while,' he thought.
The orderlies and two nurses handled the set-up in the new room smoothly and efficiently. "Nice digs," Ray whistled. He had no doubt that Inspector Thatcher was the friend in high places who arranged for Fraser's luxurious accommodations. A forest of impressive floral arrangements stood clumped on virtually every flat surface in the room. Three Mylar balloons with "Get Well" emblazoned on them bumped against the ceiling. "Home, sweet home," Ray declared, noting the addition of a comfy looking cot set up in the corner.
"It's too much, if you ask me," Bob Fraser critiqued. "Just need enough room to lie down and take of your business. Too many amenities make a man soft. Great Scott, there's even a television set. Oh...satellite......wonder if they're televising the curling championships?"
The orderlies and one of the nurses left. The other nurse remained temporarily, adjusting various wires and explaining to Fraser in soft tones which buttons to push for which function. Then, with a "I'll check back with you later, Constable," she, too, left.
"Pretty snazzy, huh, Fraser?" Ray made a sweeping gesture.
"Yes,... it is....," Ben agreed. "Where's....Dief?"
Ray laughed. "Dief is probably down in the nurse's lounge being hand-fed doggie bon-bons. I think he goes home with a different nurse every night. The ladies actually fight over who gets to walk him. Sheesh, dogs, I'm telling ya."
While he was talking, Ray pulled off the protective gown he had worn in the CCU. He had forgotten that he was wearing Fraser's flannel shirt. As he grabbed the shirt tail, the feel of the worn fabric under Ray's fingers triggered an onslaught of emotions. Embarrassment, guilt, discomfort, nervousness and fear all crashed in on him. He was back in the cabin. Scenes from "the operation" kaleidoscoped through his head. Fraser hurting and helpless. Ray felt the heft of the knife in his hand. Saw the sharp edge biting into pale flesh. Fraser trying to wrench away from the hurt inflicted by his friend. Fraser's blood, his tears. Fraser, his face twisted into a rictus of anguish. Fraser's cries of pain reverberated in Ray's head.
He quickly turned to a table of flower arrangements and made a big show of looking for the senders' cards. "Uh,..." he took a deep breath, "looks like you wiped out the local florist, Fraser."
"There...are...quite a few," Ben conceded.
"Good morning, Constable," said a sweet, young voice. Ray glanced over his shoulder and watched a new nurse bounce into the room and beeline for his partner. "I just want to check a few things on your chart and welcome you to this unit. Are you comfortable? Is there anything I can get for you?" The woman adjusted Fraser's covering sheet and rearranged the water carafe and glass sitting on the bedside table. The nurse was blatantly flirting, but Ray knew it would be lost on Fraser. ‘Even flat on his back and sick, he manages to attract the women.' Ray shook his head. Ordinarily, he might have been jealous, but now he welcomed the distraction. He needed to sort through his own feelings, to get a grip on his own rampant emotions.
‘What does Fraser remember? Does he understand I had to do it? Are we still friends? Will he still trust me?' The last questions upset Ray more than anything else.
"Remember Constable Fraser, if you need anything, just ask for Jackie," the nurse was saying as she backed out of the room. Her words jerked Ray out of his tormented thoughts.
"Thank you...kindly," Ben responded automatically.
Ray fumbled for something to say. "Uh,...so..., big morning, huh?" Ray's tongue suddenly seemed too big for his mouth. He moved to the window and stared intently at the lone fir tree standing beyond the glass. ‘What now? Do we talk about it? Do we pretend it didn't happen? Communication. Gotta talk. Yeah, okay, but how? Hey, Fraser, you okay with the fact that I tied you up and stuck a knife into you? You understand why, right?' Ray's thoughts beat against each other until his head felt like mush.
"Yes....Ray, a big...morning," Fraser's voice still sounded gritty.
"Uh, look,....Fraser...." Before Ray could say anything further, another nurse bustled into the room. "Hello, gentlemen, just wanted to check on our new patient and make sure everything was set up properly." Like Nurse Jackie, this nurse pulled at Fraser's sheets and made micro adjustments in the placement of water, charts and flower arrangements. "Well, Constable, if you need anything, you need to press that call button positioned by your head. Here let me show you," she said leaning over the hapless Mountie. "See, very easy," she breathed.
"Uh, yes, thank....you." For the first time in seemingly forever, Ray noted some color in Fraser's cheeks.
"I need to get back to the desk now, but if you need anything, please ask for Sally. I'll be happy to help you." With a little twitch of hip, Sally sashayed out of the room.
"So," Ray began again, but gave up after the third nurse, Claire, came hot on the heels of Sally and offered her personal assistance. ‘Okay, we'll deal with this later, buddy.' he thought. Watching nurse number three disappear back through the door, Ray couldn't resist commenting. "Geesh, Fraser, are you the only patient on this floor? It's like Grand Central Station in here."
"The nursing staff....does seem...to be....extremely...conscientious," Fraser marveled.
"It's the uniform, Son. Women are always drawn to men in uniform," Bob Fraser declared.
Ray snorted. "Wake up, Fraser. The nurses are warm for your form."
"When I was younger, I have to say I cut quite a dashing figure in my RCMP red. Turned quite a few young, pretty heads in my day," Bob continued with a pleased smile.
"Hot for your bod," Ray added, enjoying the flush creeping into Fraser's face.
"Uh, yes, well...." Fraser waved a hand toward the water pitcher. "Could I....have some....water, please....Ray?"
"Sure, buddy. Although, are you sure you don't want Jackie or Sally or Claire to pour it for you and maybe hold your head while you drink?" Ray teased.
"That Sally may be a bit much for you, Son. She reminds me of a gal I once knew in Beauval. This was before I knew your mother, of course..." Bob said, warming to his subject.
"No,...not now...please." Fraser croaked.
"Well, okay, but I'm sure they will be very disappointed," Ray snickered.
"Well, okay, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about this," Bob grumbled.
Fraser took several sips of water and handed the cup back to Ray. "I'm sorry....I just need....to close my eyes....for a minute."
"Yeah, sure, buddy. You need to rest. I'll be right here. Just sleep now," Ray encouraged. ‘Maybe later, we can figure out where we stand.'
"Yes, Son, get some rest. The Yank and I will keep watch. Maybe later, we can get you out of that bed and standing on your own two legs again."
Ben slipped into the peace of deep sleep.
As he had in the CCU, Ray stood quietly next to Fraser's bed and watched his friend's face as the Mountie slept. The terrible fears about their friendship once more assailed Ray's thoughts. He did what he had to do, what he thought he had to do. He was sure Fraser would understand that. Fraser had to understand that. ‘But the knife. I just stuck that knife into him. I shoulda...I don't know...waited until he was unconscious naturally or something. He trusted me and I just.....shit, I just.....' Ray shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He held his hands out and looked at them half expecting to see blood on them. ‘Now I know what that Lady Beth in that Shakespeare play was yelling about.' He jammed his hands into his armpits and started pacing the room.
Bob Fraser watched in sympathy as Ray made his agitated circuits. "Misplaced guilt can eat you alive, Yank," he called as Ray stormed by him. "You did what had to be done. Nobody will fault you for that. Benton will respect that. It's unfortunate he had to be the pig in the poke so to speak, but no matter. You saved his life, Yank. I thank you for that."
By the time Fraser woke up again, Ray had downshifted into a listless shuffle. The detective was dog-tired, but also dog-loyal and refused to leave Fraser's side. "How ya doing, buddy?" he asked when he saw Fraser's eyes were open and alert.
Fraser's ran his tongue over his lips. "Okay."
"Do you need anything? Water? Something for pain? Do you need another pillow? Do you want the bed raised?" Ray raced through his questions, eager to help in any way.
"No...Ray. I'm....fine," Fraser interjected. "I'm fine," he sighed.
"Well, okay, but you know there's like a squad of nurses who would be happy to do something for you," Ray said half jokingly. As if he was clairvoyant, a girlish voice behind him echoed most of his previous questions.
"Do you need anything, Constable? Perhaps, some water? Are you uncomfortable?" Nurse Jackie or Claire asked anxiously.
"No, thank...you...though," Fraser repeated, waving a dismissive hand.
Dr. Shields stopped by later in the day and pronounced himself pleased with his patient's continued progress. "I wish all my patients responded to treatment as well as you have, Constable. At this rate of improvement, we may be saying good-bye sooner than I anticipated. Excellent."
A male nurse appeared around 3:00 and helped Fraser out of bed for a wobbly trip to the loo. Ray's heart pounded in his throat with each of Fraser's shaky steps, but the Mountie set his jaw and walked as tall as he could. The trip left him exhausted though and he fell asleep as soon as he settled back into the bed.
Nurse Claire who stopped by to "check on things" insisted on bringing Ray some food from the cafeteria. "I know you want to be with your friend, but you really need to eat something. No offense, but you look kind of wasted. I'll be happy to bring you something." In the end, Ray agreed to a sandwich and some coffee.
When Fraser's dinner arrived later, no one had the heart to wake him up. "It doesn't really matter if it's cold or hot," the newest nurse confided to Ray. "It pretty much tastes the same and he probably won't want it anyway. We can always reheat it, of course." Ray snuck a peek after she left and had to agree. ‘It looks like some beginning cook's wrong turn, but then Fraser eats stuff like moose tongue and otter liver so how would he know.'
By the time, Fraser woke up and was pushing at the food on his plate, Ray had worked up another shrieking case of guilt. Ray watched his friend prod a slab of grey-brown meat with the rounded end of the silverware knife and flashed back to honed blade of the boot knife sawing into Fraser's tender skin. In Ray's head, the soft screech of the silver across the plate crescendoed into Fraser's scream as the knife plunged into his stomach.
"Aghhh." Ray's despair pushed its way into the air.
Fraser looked up from his dinner. "What's....wrong, Ray?"
"Uh, nothin....sorry. Just kinda, you know....thinking about something else. Sorry. It's nothing," Ray lurched out of the bedside chair and walked to the window. The room lighting was such that he could see Fraser reflected in the glass. The Mountie's face was creased into a frown.
"Are you...okay, Ray?" Fraser asked.
"Yeah, sure, right as rain." Ray leaned his forehead against the cool window pane. "And, you're gonna be fine, too. That's the important thing. You're gonna be just fine."
"Yes...Ray. Thank you." Fraser pushed the swing arm table containing his food away from him.
"The Yank is upset about what he had to do to save you, Son. It's guilt. He's not sure you understand why he did what he did." Bob Fraser advised.
"I understand," Ben responded.
"You understand what?" Ray asked, using his index finger to swirl a pattern in the now misted glass.
"I understand...what...a terrible ordeal...this has...been for you, Ray. I don't know....why...you came, but...if you...hadn't, I would...have died. I'm sorry....I don't....remember much, but you...were there....when I needed you. You helped...me. You saved...my life...Ray."
Ray whirled around and faced his friend across the room. The detective hugged the flannel shirt around his body and took a few shaky breaths. "I also hurt you, Fraser. You trusted me and I hurt you. That's kinda hard to live with."
"I...could not have...lived...unless you had. Thank...you for...being a good....enough...friend...to do...what had...to...be done. My trust....was...not misplaced." Fraser finished breathlessly.
"That's good, Son. Well stated," Bob Fraser approved. "Damn dust in this place," he muttered, wiping a knuckle across his eyes. "Think I'll go see what that Sally is up to."
"You mean that, Fraser?" Ray asked quietly. "We're still friends? You still know I'm there for you? That you can trust me?"
"Yes, Ray."
"Even though I stuck a knife into you? We're still friends?"
"You...stuck a knife...in me?"
"It was little," Ray protested.
"Oh, okay, then."
"Really?"
"Yes, Ray. I would...do the same...to you."
"Really?"
"Yes, Ray. Without...hesitation."
"Really? That's cold, Fraser."
"Not...at all. We're...friends."
Ray dropped into the bedside chair. "Well, that's cool, then."
"Yes, cool," Fraser echoed.
Ray spend the next hour filling his friend in on the Dante Speca/Willy Warfield story. No amount of cajoling, however, would get Fraser to reveal the details of the walrus pie incident. "I have ways of making you talk, Fraser," Ray threatened.
"I don't...think so," Fraser yawned around a smug smile. "I think...I need to close....my eyes...for a minute."
Ray watched until he was sure Fraser was sound asleep before stretching out and letting his own head rest against the back of the chair. ‘Fraser's gonna fine. And we're gonna be fine. It's all good.,' he thought just before he, too, fell asleep.
A night shift nurse named Susan crept into the room later to check the patient's temperature and blood pressure. There was no way to avoid waking up the RCMP constable who was creating such a stir in the nurse's lounge. She took her readings quickly and excused herself. She debated trying to move the American detective, the other focus of much amorous discussion, into the cot across the room, but decided instead to merely cover his sprawling form with a blanket. In his sleep, Ray shifted at the touch of the covering and rolled to his side facing his friend's bed. The blanket settled down around his waist.
Fraser kept his eyes closed until the door swished shut behind the nurse. There was enough light in the room that Fraser could see the haggard look on his friend's face. Even in the repose of sleep, the stress and sacrifice of the past week and a half had etched themselves into Ray's face. The Mountie was awed by the depths of friendship the American had displayed over and over again.
He had lied to Ray. Ben actually remembered quite a bit about the time in the cabin. He remembered feeling safe once Ray arrived. He remembered the comfort of Ray's touch as he wiped off Ben's forehead or smoothed his hair. He remembered the warmth of Ray's words as the detective sought to sooth him. He remembered the caring. Ben recognized his old shirt and thought he understood why Ray was wearing it. Ben's eyes filled with tears as he gazed at his friend curled into an uncomfortable hospital chair.
Fraser's raspy voice soared through the quiet room. "Love you like a brother, Ray."
THE END
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