�Officer Luca?�
The voice penetrated his anesthetic-induced slumber, muffled and distant, as if through a long, dark tunnel, and it roused him ever so slightly. His mind was sluggish, almost numb in its inability to achieve total wakefulness, and he did not bother opening his eyes. It simply required too much effort, and he only wanted to go back to sleep. Before he could come fully awake, he allowed his body to relax again, sinking back into the darkness.
�Officer Luca? Can you hear me?�
That cursed voice again interrupted the quiet peaceful oblivion of sleep, bringing him a little more awake than before.
�Officer Luca, it�s time to wake up now,� the voice spoke again in a soothing tone. �You�re in the recovery room. You came through the surgery just fine, but I need you to wake up. Can you open your eyes for me?�
The voice was sweet and gentle, and he realized without making it a conscious thought that it was the recovery room nurse. He tried once to open his eyes so that he might put a face to the voice that was speaking to him, but his eyelids refused to cooperate. In fact, nothing seemed to be working properly. She said I had surgery, he thought, drowsily. Well, I�ll think about that later.
The grogginess was overpowering, and he made no more attempts to open his eyes. Perhaps he would see the nurse later.
�What�s wrong with him?� asked a second voice. This voice was hesitant and concerned, clearly belonging to someone less experienced than the first, possibly a nurse in training. Great, use me for a guinea pig.
�He�s all right. Sometimes they have trouble coming out from under the anesthesia. He�s going to be really groggy.�
�Is it normal to leave the breathing tube in like that?�
�With critical patients, yes. The concern is that if the throat swells or he takes a turn for the worst they won�t be able to get it in again, so they will leave it in until they�re sure he can breathe on his own.�
Luca heard the words in a totally detached fashion, as if they were not really talking about him. Breathing tube?
�Officer Luca? Can you hear me?� the persistent nurse repeated her question.
He felt his body flinch as the voice pierced his drowsiness again. Damn it, why don�t they let me sleep? he asked himself silently with irritation. It�s been a hard day, and I just want to rest!
�I know you�re very sleepy, Officer Luca,� the voice persisted, �but I need to you open your eyes. Can you open your eyes for me?�
Dom didn�t want to open his eyes, and he didn�t want to come fully awake. He just wanted to sleep.
�His blood pressure is a bit low,� said the second nurse, unwrapping the cuff from his upper arm.
�Let�s warm him up a bit,� suggested the first nurse.
A moment later, a blanket was placed over him, and he felt the nurses working together to tuck it around his body. It was very warm, and had clearly been heated. It felt wonderfully comforting, like Mama�s old patchwork quilt that she used to wrap him in when he was sick, but the warmth only made him want to sleep more.
I wonder what happened to that old quilt, he asked himself silently, feeling very cozy and comfortable. I�ll have to ask Mama next time I see her. He drifted off again.
He was uncertain how much time had passed when he was roused again by the same voice speaking his name.
�Officer Luca, you need to wake up.�
He wanted to sigh his annoyance at the nurse�s exasperating persistence, but oddly the air at that moment was going into his lungs instead of out. A moment later, he felt himself exhale, followed by another forced inhale. It seemed to be accompanied by a peculiar whooshing sound. It was a odd sensation, but he was still too far under to concern himself with it, so he simply allowed it to continue.
�He just doesn�t want to wake up, does he?� asked the second voice. �He isn�t in a coma is he?�
�No. Sometimes it just takes a while. He was under for hours during the surgery.�
�You know, I heard some of the nurses talking about him. They said he saved a boy�s life during that hostage thing at the school. They said he actually shot the pistol out of the hand of one of the gang members. He must really be good.�
He felt a soft, cool hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. �Yes,� the first nurse agreed. �He�s really a hero.�
Hero? Me? What happened? How did I get here? He was beginning to rouse himself enough that his mind struggled to recapture the events that had occurred during the day. As the memory slowly began to return, he recalled the incident in the school. It had been up to him to save that boy�s life, and then moments later he had been ambushed by another perpetrator who had been hiding in the bathroom. I�ve been shot!
Silently, he cursed his carelessness. Damn it, Luca! You should have realized that one of them might have been hiding there! You were careless, and you paid the price!
His next memory was of the frantic ride in the War Wagon, when his fellow colleagues in blue had offered him their moving tribute in an attempt to speed up his ride to the hospital. He remembered the coldness of the emergency room table, and the sickening ride on the gurney to the operating room. And now, he was apparently in the recovery room drifting in and out of sleep and listening to a pair of nurses talking about him.
As his mind crawled slowly toward full wakefulness, unfamiliar sounds began to invade the quiet place in which he lay, strange blips and beeps and hisses, but he was unable to identify them. There seemed to be activity around him, and the sounds of other voices speaking nearby, but he was unable to make out the words.
Gradually, he became aware of an odd sensation of heaviness in his abdomen, almost a feeling of stress or urgency. He attempted to move his hand to the area in an attempt to sooth that peculiar sensation, but he felt strangely numb, and the hand did not respond to his attempts to move it. Alarm rippled through him at his inability to make simple gestures. What has happened to me? he thought. Why can�t I move? Have I been paralyzed?
She must have seen the tightness in his expression, for he felt her comforting hand on his forehead again. �It�s all right, Officer Luca. Try to relax.�
Would you make up your mind? his mind retorted, angrily. First you want me to wake up, and now you want me to relax!
�Are you in any pain?� the nurse asked, then apparently realizing that he was unable to speak, she took his hand. �Squeeze my hand if you�re in pain, and I�ll give you something for it.�
He felt the fog beginning to lift, carrying him closer to full cognizance. His throat abruptly constricted, attempting to rid itself of something invasive, something long that extended from his mouth down through his esophagus. A burst of air went into his lungs, and he experienced a moment of intense apprehension, realizing with sudden cognizance that he was on a respirator. What the hell! His body tensed, and instantly that sense of urgency in his middle transformed into unbearable pain.
His hand closed tightly around the nurse�s hand, so tightly that she gasped in discomfort, and then he felt those brief moments of awareness begin to slip away again, carrying him back to a place where there was no pain. His last sensation of awareness was the nurse�s voice.
�Officer Luca? I think he�s losing consciousness.�
T. J. sat brooding in a corner, alone, ignoring the television and the presence of the others in the room. His mood darkened with the growing nightfall.
Throughout the afternoon and evening, the relatives and friends of other surgical patients came and went, as people who had been there earlier in the day went home or to other places in the hospital and were replaced by others who had been notified of accident victims or sudden illnesses, each one waiting anxiously for news.
The SWAT team had been there for hours, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, pacing the floor, thumbing through magazines they did not want to read, and watching the television that was mounted on the wall. They broke for supper in the hospital�s cafeteria, leaving Father Manucci, who volunteered to remain in case news was delivered in their absence, but no one enjoyed his meal very much.
They returned to the waiting room and were informed that there had been no additional news, and sat down again.
Now, the other men had gotten involved in watching The Bionic Woman, allowing themselves to temporarily be removed from the reason that they were seated there, but T. J. was not interested. He had retreated into his own mind, his thoughts firmly fixed upon his wounded friend.
Finally, at seven thirty, Doctor Windom stepped into the waiting room again, and everyone stood up to observe him with anxious faces, all of them hopeful, but obviously expecting the worst.
"I just wanted to let you know that we've moved him to Intensive Care."
�Has there been any change in his condition?� Hondo asked.
�No, not really. About all I can tell you right now is that he�s stable.�
�Can we see him?� T. J. asked, hopefully.
�Family only, at this point,� the doctor replied. His eyes darted to the priest who stood patiently behind the other men. �Since his immediate family is out of town, however, I will briefly allow the family priest inside, but no one else.� He looked around the room at the tired faces of the police officers. "Look, there really isn't anything you can do for him by being here. Why don't you all go home and get some rest? We'll notify you if there is any change."
The men exchanged glances and shifted restlessly. As much as they hated to admit it, as much as they were pulled by the desire to be at the side of their wounded comrade to lend whatever support they could, they knew the doctor was right.
After a moment, Hondo pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket, scribbled his phone number on it, and handed it to the doctor. "That's my home number. I'd appreciate hearing from you if there is any change. Any change at all. I'll notify the rest of the men."
The doctor accepted the slip of paper, and tucked it into his smock. "All right. You gentlemen get some rest. He's continuing to hold his own, so try not to worry too much." He turned to the priest. �Father? If you�ll come with me, I�ll take you to I.C.U.�
Father Manucci rose from his chair, bade the others goodnight, then followed the doctor down the hallway.
The SWAT officers returned to the van and endured a quiet ride back to Olympic Station. Storm clouds had moved into the area, blotting out the moon and the stars, and lightning flashed on the distant horizon. They would see rain before morning. Few words were spoken during the drive back to the station, and the mood inside the van was as gloomy as the approaching weather. No one spoke the words, but every one of them wondered if Dom Luca would still be alive come dawn.
When they reached the station, T. J., Jim, and Deacon somberly made their way down the long flight of steps to the lower level and changed out of their uniforms back into their street clothes while Hondo remained upstairs answering the inevitable questions from the night staff regarding the shooting and Luca�s current condition.
As they finished dressing, Hondo came down the steps and approached them. �Gentlemen, I�m afraid I can�t keep us unavailable any longer. They're giving us until noon tomorrow, and then we're back on active duty. Now, we need to go home and get some rest. I'll see you gentlemen back here at noon for briefing."
There was no sound from the men, no grumblings or complaints about returning to work. Without a word, they collected their gear, closed their lockers, and walked out to the parking lot where their personal vehicles were waiting. One by one, they pulled out onto the street heading toward their respective houses or apartments.
At the traffic light just out of the parking lot from the Division, T. J. sat quietly in his car waiting for the green light. He had automatically pulled out in the direction of his apartment, but as he sat at the light, his mind on his fallen partner, he knew that he would be unable to rest at all during the night for worrying about his friend. When the light changed, he turned the corner and drove toward the hospital.
Visiting hours were over when he arrived at the medical facility, a fact that provided him access to a fairly decent parking place in the parking lot. After locking his car securely, he walked toward the main entrance. The parking lot was well-lit with tall street lamps, illuminating the vehicles and making a safer environment for people walking in and out of the building. However, as his policeman�s eyes quickly noted, he was the only individual who was crossing the huge parking area at that moment.
Lightning flashed, nearer than before, and he detected the fresh scent of rain in the heavy, humid air. The trees and shrubs stood absolutely motionless, as if in anticipation of the life-giving moisture.
The large double doors slid open to admit him, and he looked around the lobby, realizing that he did not know Luca�s room number. The hospital staff was not likely to provide him with that information, but he knew someone who might. Locating a bank of pay phones just off the lobby, he withdrew the number he had written down belonging to Father Manucci.
�You know, of course, I could have you thrown out of this hospital!�
The female voice, sharply clipped, authoritative, and decidedly angry, pierced Luca�s mind like a sharp knife and roused him slightly from the deep state of unconsciousness in which he had found peace. Unable to come fully awake in the lingering after-effects of the anesthetic, he stirred imperceptivity, then allowed his body to settle back into the mattress with the desire to drift back to sleep.
�I don�t mean to cause any problems,� a male voice replied with enough annoyance to indicate that this discussion had begun prior to Luca�s awakening. �I�m just worried about my friend. I�m the closest thing to family he�s got in town at the moment. His mom and sister are flying in tomorrow, but they won�t be here until sometime in the afternoon. Please, I don�t want him to be alone. Just let me stay with him for a while.�
Recognizing the voice as belonging to his friend and partner, T. J., Luca struggled to open his eyes, but remained too groggy to offer any kind of voluntary movement.
�It is against hospital policy for anyone other than family to be allowed into the Intensive Care unit! I�m sorry, sir, but you should not be in this room. Had I not been on the phone with another patient�s family, you never would have made it past the desk! Now please, sir, I must ask you to leave.�
He heard a heavy sigh from the SWAT officer, who apparently was refusing to give ground. �Look, I�m not trying to cause trouble. I just want to sit with him for a while. Why is that such a problem?�
�I explained to you that it is against hospital policy!� the nurse retorted with obvious exasperation that the man was continuing to argue with her. �Cathy, would you please call Security to have this man escorted from the building?�
�Cathy, don�t do that, please,� T. J. said, his voice firm. Groggily, Luca wondered if this Cathy had obeyed the nurse or the sharpshooter. �I know you have your rules and regulations, but what possible harm would it do for me to sit with him for a while?�
You tell her, Teej!
�It is not allowed!� the nurse repeated, reiterating policy. �Only family is allowed inside these units! I have explained this to you over and over again!�
�And I�ve told you over and over again that his family is out of town!�
�Is there a problem here?� asked another male voice, a voice that seemed familiar to the wounded officer.
�I�m sorry, Doctor Windom,� the nurse apologized. �This gentleman walked past the nurse�s station while I was on the telephone and Cathy was checking on a patient. He is trying to get into Officer Luca�s room. I have explained hospital policy to him, but he refuses to leave. I was just telling Cathy to call security to have him removed.�
�You are one of the police officers who were here earlier, correct?� Windom asked.
�Yes,� T. J. replied. �McCabe.�
�Well, you are certainly dedicated.� The doctor�s voice contained a just a trace of something that might have been mild amusement at the standoff that was occurring in the open doorway to Luca�s room. Dom wished he could see it too, but every time there was a pause in the conversation, he felt himself sliding toward unconsciousness again.
�Look, Doctor Windom, I�m not trying to dispute hospital policy, but as I just asked your nurse, what possible harm could it do for me to just sit with him for awhile?�
The doctor hesitated. "It isn't our usual policy to allow non-family members into the Intensive Care units. If we allowed friends, there would be a constant parade of people going in and out of these units, and it would disturb not only the one patient, but all of them. You have to understand, these are critical care patients with special needs."
�That is what I have been trying to explain to him, Doctor, but he refuses to listen,� the nurse said.
"I know, and I understand that," T. J. assured him. "It's just that his family won't be in town until tomorrow afternoon, and I thought it might help if someone he knows is with him, you know, to let him know we care. I just don't want him to be alone, you know?"
There was a long pause as Doctor Windom apparently mulled over the sharpshooter�s request. In the silence that followed, Dom nearly drifted off again, until he was roused by the nurse�s sharp voice. Even though he was unable to make it a conscious thought, he was beginning to form a dislike for this nurse and her cutting voice.
�Doctor, do you want me to call Security?�
Seeing that the doctor�s resolve was weakening, T. J. persisted, �Doctor, I was reading one of those magazines in the waiting room, and it spoke of recent studies in the medical field which indicate that the presence of family is beneficial to critical patients. In the absence of family, a good friend can lend the same compassion and support if given the same opportunity.�
�And the brotherhood of police is commonly known as a strong bond,� Windom said, completing the officer�s thought. "I have read those studies myself, and I agree with them. Still, to set aside hospital policy ---�
�Doctor, please,� T. J. insisted. �I know you have your rules, and I know you can�t suspend them for everyone who comes in, but this is a unique case. Dom was willing to sacrifice his life to save the life of that kid, and now he�s lying in this unit completely alone. I would be willing to bet that most people who come into this ward have at least one family member to come in and sit with them. At the moment, Dom doesn�t have anyone. We�re best friends, Doctor. We�re nearly family to each other. That�s why I�m asking you to bend the rules this one time. I promise I will leave when his mother arrives.�
There was another long pause, then the doctor finally said, �Very well.�
�Doctor!� the nurse protested.
�I know,� Windom said. �This is highly irregular and a breach of policy, but I'm going to allow it in this case. I do believe it will be beneficial to the patient to have someone he knows in the room with him.�
Dom heard the nurse�s footsteps walking away, and knew that she was displeased that the doctor had not backed her up.
�But only until his family arrives,� Windom continued.
�Thank you, Doctor,� T. J. said, gratefully. �I really appreciate this. How�s he doing?� Again, Dom was unable to form a conscious thought process, but he could sense that his friend was standing just inside the door, and could almost feel him looking at him.
�According to the recovery room nurses, he experienced some intense pain when he came out from under the anesthetic, but he passed out before we could give him anything for it. It may take him a while to come around again. Other than that, there has been no real change. He remains stable. I was just coming to check on him before I left for the night. I�ll be back in the morning. If you�re still here, I�ll see you then.�
Again, Dom struggled to open his unresponsive eyes, but finally gave up the fight and sank back into that quiet, peaceful place where there was no sense of awareness.
Go to Chapter Nine