The Order of Things
"Ezra's got hypothermia," Nathan said, his eyes wide with fear in the moonwashed clearing. "He's still shivering and his heart's still beating, but if his shivering stops, it could stop too. I…I…."
"Josiah, can you carry him?" Chris asked, picking up a flashlight from the ground next to one of the unconscious men.
"Easy," the large 18 year old boy said, bending down and hefting a bundled Ezra up in his arms. The freshman suddenly looked very small and slight, even all wrapped in the other's coats and scarves, in Josiah's grip. Nathan moved to help improve Josiah's hold.
"Nathan, you and Josiah get Ezra to the infirmary," Chris tossed Nathan the flashlight when the sophomore looked back at him. "JD," he spun on his heel to see the youngest boy, "Can you break into the science building?"
"Yeah, sure," JD replied quickly. "Easy," he added in unconscious imitation.
"Get in, get into Greene's office and call Mrs. Greene. Tell her what Nathan just said and tell her to do what she thinks best—for sure, get her to the infirmary to help Ezra. You got that?" he looked at JD. The smallest nodded, and Chris looked back at Josiah and Nathan. "Go! now!" Chris barked, causing Josiah to respond instantly by charging out of the clearing with Nathan on his heels, the sophomore catching up with the flashlight.
Chris looked back at JD, who had moved out of the way of the two older boys and was about to follow them.
"Wait JD. After you call Mrs. Greene, call the police. Ask for Sergeant Corcoran, if he's around, tell him what happened and get them out here, fast. Then call the new principal, Conklin and the other resident teachers."
"What about a doctor?" Vin asked, his throat tight. He had been feeling pretty pleased with how things went down, thinking all was well, until Nathan had said the words "it could stop." What the hell did that mean, it could stop? Surely, he didn't mean Ezra could…could….
"Leave that to Mrs. Greene," Chris said, still looking at JD. "We'll stay here with these assholes. Make them hurry!"
"Yes sir!" JD turned around, but stopped as Buck shouted his name. He turned to look at his mentor, to see Buck smiling at him…proudly…and tossing him what had been Jeb's flashlight. JD caught it expertly, grinned back, and took off after Nathan and Josiah.
"Okay," Chris turned around, "use their belts and bind their hands behind their backs. Then we'd best get them propped up against something. Oh," he smiled wickedly, remembering that he and Vin had both doffed their jackets for Ezra, "and take their coats off. It's still damn cold out here."
+ + + + + + +
The alarm was tripped when JD broke into the Science building, but he didn't care. If that got the police here faster, all the better. Running down the hall, he reached Mr. Greene's office and smashed the window rather than fiddling with the lock. Getting inside, he reached the phone and started making calls.
With the police, he agreed to meet them at the corner of the main parking lot and the science building. He told Mrs. Travis the same thing, but he didn't manage to get in touch with Conklin. So, instead, he just left a message and then called Mrs. Potter, Ms. Wells and Mr. Heidegger, the German teacher and resident of Winchester. He told Ms. Wells and Mr. Heidegger to meet Nathan at the infirmary, and asked Mrs. Potter to come out here. By the time he was done, he was shaking badly from the stress and adrenalin and, for the first time since his mother had died three years ago, he just really wanted an adult to be there. Mrs. Travis lived in the principal's house just off campus, so it would be a tie between her and Mrs. Potter as to who got here first, he figured. On an impulsive move, he made one more phone call—to a phone number he'd found carefully inked on the bottom of one of the stuffed tiger's paws. It ended up being a New York City answering service, and he did his best to leave a message he hoped made sense.
As soon as he hung up for the last time, he ran back out of the door he'd broken into and down the narrow walkway to the parking lot.
He was bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for the sign of either a car's headlights coming down to the gate or to hear footsteps running down behind him.
The footsteps were first.
He turned, and looked confused to see Horace Conklin bearing down on him. Then, smiling, he ran to meet the adult, oblivious to the bilious expression on the man's face.
"Mr. Conklin! I tried to…."
"What the hell are you doing! Are you the one who set off the alarm, Dunne?"
"I, yes, but…."
"No buts, young man! You are coming with me. What did you think you were going to steal this time!"
"No," JD backed away, hands raised, "No, Mr. Conklin, you don't understand!"
"The hell I don't!" Conklin's hand shot out like a snake, grabbing the young boy's thin arm in a fierce grip before JD could skip away again. "You are coming with…."
"No!" JD lashed out with a foot, kicking Conklin in the shin and startling the older man enough to let him go. Turning, the kid ran away, heading across the parking lot for the gate. Conklin hopped on one foot for a moment, before limping after him, the older man yelling threats of expulsion.
But JD no longer heard him—he had already seen the blue tinted headlights swinging towards the gate; they had to come from an Audi. He was never so happy to see anyone in his life, and so he ran, waving his arms wildly as the gate opened automatically upon Mrs. Travis flashing her card and the Audi slid down the drive.
Conklin slowed and paused, looking a little confused at the sight of the principal's car.
He had come running when the alarm rang in his rooms that someone had broken into the science building. He'd run even faster when he noticed that Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington's coats were missing from the hooks in the common room.
Shaking his head, he turned at the sound of other footsteps behind him, and saw Mrs. Potter jogging towards him, holding her great coat over a long nightgown and wellies.
+ + + + + + +
Josiah put Ezra on the nearest cot while Nathan started flipping on lights, then ran into the side room to grab a bunch of blankets.
"Warm him up! Rub his arms and legs, anything," Nathan called from the back room. "We have to get him warm, get his circulation going."
Josiah did as he was told, grabbing Ezra's right arm and rubbing the limb viciously between his large hands. Ezra was oblivious. His lips were blue and he hadn't made a sound since he'd yelled the warning about the knife. The blood that had run down one side of the boy's chin and down the neck had congealed and turned an ugly blackish-red color, making Josiah's stomach flip-flop. The older boy was having a hard time just trying not to throw up. Between the ice cold skin he was trying to warm, the dried blood, the black and blue bruises mottling the skin, and the blue lips…Ezra looked like one of the corpses from a cop show.
Nathan came over and dumped the blankets on the next cot, then started shaking them out to throw over Ezra.
"What about a bath?" Josiah said, looking up. "A hot bath? Would that help?"
"I…yeah…Yes. There's a room with a bath and a shower room on the other side of the store room. Go fill it up with the hottest water you can get out of the tap," Nathan was tucking the blanket around Ezra, and running his hand up and down the shins and feet he could feel, trying to keep the blood flowing. Ezra wasn't shivering anymore, which terrified him.
"Okay," Josiah jumped up in relief, thankful not to have to look at Ezra's pallor for a few minutes, then hated himself for feeling that way as he ran to where Nathan pointed.
Oblivious to anything but his friend on the cot, Nathan continued rubbing Ezra's arms and legs, and wishing the lips would get some color back. He'd glanced quickly at the shallow cut on the chin, dismissing it as superficial, albeit ugly. Ignoring it for now, he kept glancing at the boy's chest. He couldn't tell—was Ezra breathing? He knew he had still seen him breathing when they got here, before Josiah had put him down, but now….Please, please, let him be breathing.
From the back room, he heard the gush of water and the groan of the building's pipes—they didn't like being used when the temperature was this low.
"Got the water running, waiting for it to warm up," Josiah ran back into the room. "What else can we do?" As he asked, he reached for Ezra's other arm and vigorously began rubbing it.
"I have to…," Nathan shuddered, looking down at Ezra's whole face for the first time. It was normally the most animated face he had ever known, but it was now completely still. He saw what Josiah had seen—Ezra looked dead. He hadn't checked Ezra's pulse again since the clearing. He was afraid to find it wasn't there anymore.
"Please, Nathan. You have to do whatever you can until we get help. Please," Josiah's voice was desperate, "whatever you have to do, do it. Please."
Nathan's jaw clenched, but he did. Reaching a hand up, he put his hand in front of Ezra's mouth, then reached down to press his fingers against Ezra's neck and closed his eyes.
Oh God.
Nathan's eyes opened.
"Josiah," he said, his voice sounding strangely low pitched to his ears, "call the hospital in Bitter Creek and get them to send the helicopter here, now. His heart's stopped." He looked at Josiah's wide eyes, a tiny part of him wondering how he had managed to say that so calmly. "Get an ETA, then get back here."
Josiah didn't make a sound—he couldn't. His throat had frozen.
"Now, Josiah," Nathan said, putting his head to Ezra's chest while still keeping his hand on his neck, just in case. He didn't want to make it worse in case the heartbeat was just very faint. "Go."
Dizzy, the older boy got to his feet and ran to the phone while Nathan continued to listen for any sound or indication of a heartbeat.
"Hi, yes," Josiah said, "my friend's heart's stopped. He's not breathing. We need the helicopter. Four Corners Academy, Main building, the infirmary on the second floor….no, THIS IS NOT A PRANK! GET HERE NOW!....y…yes, ma'am….sorry…how long? Thank you."
As soon as he hung up, he turned to see Nathan finishing putting Ezra on the floor. Josiah leaned against the cold tiles of the wall, not sure he had the strength to hold himself upright any longer.
"Get over here," Nathan's still too calm voice ordered. "What's the ETA?"
"Five minutes," Josiah croaked, still not moving.
"Josiah!" Nathan snapped, seeing the other boy's listlessness. "Get over here now! This isn't the time for you to give up on me! I need you!"
Josiah flinched, then, shaking his lethargy loose, hurried back to the where Nathan had put Ezra on the floor and tilted his head back.
"Remember Mr. Martinez's CPR class?" Nathan asked.
"No."
"Yes you do. Listen to me. I want you to breathe for him, okay? I'm going to do CPR. We have to sustain it perfectly until they get here, you understand? Now watch…."
Josiah just nodded as Nathan reminded him of the motions the gym teacher, Mr. Martinez, had taught them a year ago.
Maybe a minute later, Nettie Wells and Claus Heidegger burst through the doors, having been sent there by JD's phone call. Mr. Heidegger gasped when he saw what they were doing, but Nettie just moved next to Nathan and waited for him to tell her what to do.
Nathan gave orders to the adults without thinking, and something about him had them responding without question. Josiah was already feeling faint from the breathing, so Mr. Heidgegger took over. Nettie ran to check on the bath, and they could hear her squeal at discovering it had run over. Then she was back with steaming hot towels that she had soaked in the bath, and was using them to rub more warmth into Ezra's arms.
A few minutes later that felt like hours, two paramedics and an ER doctor suddenly pushed into the room in a blast of cold air and took over. With frightening efficiency, they took over the CPR while the doctor listened to Nathan quickly explain what they had been doing. Again, something about Nathan's confidence had the doctor listening and nodding instead of ignoring the boy, and, when they had Ezra on the gurney and were wheeling him out, it was not even a question as Nathan went with him.
Josiah watched them go in a daze, and soon it was just him with Ms. Wells and Mr. Heidegger. He caught sight of Mrs. Greene through the doors, having just shown up with her husband, her hand covering her mouth at seeing Ezra's appearance. Stephen Greene just stood there, unsure what to make of it all. He'd only seen the boy less than two hours ago…what in God's name had happened?
The blond science teacher looked in the room just as Ms. Wells wrapped a now completely shattered Josiah in her arms. However tall and big he was, Josiah was still just a boy, and the tiny, white-haired woman offered what comfort she could.
+ + + + + + +
Police swarmed into the clearing, led by JD's unerring guidance, the 12 year old boy's mouth moving a mile a minute as he described the fight scene and everything that he had seen and done to make himself a part of it. Mrs. Travis followed closely behind JD, and Conklin and Mrs. Potter were not much farther back. The new principal had already informed the policemen that had responded to JD's call that none of the boys were to be spoken to without her or Mrs. Potter present. Conklin had not missed the omission of his name in her orders to the boys in blue, but, for once, had kept quiet. The sergeant in charge, Sergeant Frank Corcoran, had accepted her word with a nod, aware that the principal was acting in loco parentis at this point.
Chris, Vin and Buck made room as the police went straight for the four adults still lying semi-conscious on the ground, moaning a little as the cops replaced the belts binding their hands with cuffs.
Mrs. Travis walked over to Chris, her pale eyes sharply focused. Conklin and Sergeant Corcoran followed her, while Mrs. Potter and another policeman moved to talk quietly to Buck and Vin.
Mary saw the bruises forming Chris's face from where Earl had hit him, and her eyes narrowed. "Mr. Larabee, are you and the others all right?"
Chris shook his head slowly, "No. Josiah and Nathan have taken Ezra to the infirmary. Nathan doesn't know if Ez will….if he will…." He couldn't finish the statement.
Mary nodded, "JD said these men were trying to kill him." Her voice was low, quiet, calm.
"Yes," Chris's voice was similarly calm, but there was an underlying tremor to it now that the police were taking charge and the new principal was taking some of the burden off of the 17 year old boy. "I'm not sure why, exactly, but I heard enough to know that Earl was trying to push Ezra into doing something for him, but Ezra didn't want to. They had him stripped to the skin, had cut his chin with a knife, and were about to lash him with a belt. When Nathan left here to take him to the infirmary…." Chris closed his eyes for a moment, clearly having a harder and harder time holding onto his calm, then opened them again. "When Nathan left here to take him to the infirmary, I got the impression that Ezra could die."
"From what?" Conklin's voice asked sharply, not hiding the disbelief in his voice that Nathan could diagnose anything.
"Hypothermia," Chris answered tiredly, not even bothering to get angry at the man's tone. "He was out in this weather with no protection for close to twenty minutes, my guess. He was already cold from being outside at all, had been sick, and…I mean, it's, what? Negative something? And this wind…."
"Why was he out in the first place?" Conklin demanded maliciously. "For that matter, what were any of you doing out here? And what were you stealing from the Science building? What was Ezra supplying them with? And were you helping him?"
Chris's eyes narrowed, more familiar with reacting to Conklin than to thinking about Ezra's blue, blood caked face. His hands gripped into fists, the sore knuckles forgotten. He opened his mouth to answer when Mary suddenly held up a hand—she knew where he was headed.
"No, don't answer that," Mary said firmly, then glared at the vice principal. "Conklin, shut up. One more word, and I will hit you myself. Right now, all I care about is getting these boys inside and taken care of." She looked back at Chris, "How long ago did Nathan and Josiah take…." She stopped talking suddenly, looking up as the unmistakable sound of a helicopter rumbled overhead, headed in the direction of Main. It would land on the parking circle in front, she guessed.
Sergeant Corcoran said something into the radio on this jacket, and they all heard the response, including Vin and Buck who were standing nearby.
"Paramedics for the boy, sir. They got a call that he wasn't breathing and had no pulse."
Chris's world skewed suddenly, and he staggered. He felt someone grab his arm and when he looked up, it was to find the new principal holding his arm and shouting orders about getting them out of "this damn clearing." Buck was already halfway across it, almost to the woods, running and dragging JD and the policeman who had been talking to him with him, shouting at whoever would listen that they needed to get to the hospital. Looking over, he saw Vin was half collapsed in another policeman's arms, the still small freshman staring blankly at the snow while Mrs. Potter talked quickly to him, telling him not to give up on Ezra, that his best friend was a strong young man.
When Chris felt like he had his equilibrium back, he found himself looking directly into Mrs. Travis eyes—realizing for the first time that she as actually shorter than him. She smiled softly in return.
"Come on, Chris. We'll continue this at the hospital, okay?"
Chris just nodded.
The Hospital
Nathan looked up as Buck pushed into the room with JD, the junior and freshman immediately jumping on the sophomore for answers about Ezra. Chris and Vin joined in a minute later, and then Josiah, until Nathan was holding his hands over his ears and begging them to stop.
"Boys!" Mary Travis' voice echoed through the waiting area, which had been empty except for a handful of people and now was filled nearly to bursting with teachers, students and police. The six boys instantly quieted, and Nathan looked gratefully at the principal.
"I'm going to go and see if we can find someone to tell us how Ezra is doing. Why don't you sit and try not to frighten Nathan any more than he already is, okay?" The principal's eyebrows were arched, and she gave them a small smile when they actually looked sheepishly at Nathan and Buck and JD muttered apologies to the boy.
The sophomore nodded, and was about to try to tell them what he knew when an older, black woman pushed into the room in a white coat. She looked around, focused on Mary, and walked over with her hand outstretched.
"Are you Principal Travis?" she asked.
Mary took the hand, "Yes, and you are?"
"Dr. Anita Weathers. I've been taking care of Ezra."
"How is he?" Vin blurted out, causing Dr. Weathers to smile across at him.
"Responding to treatment," she said. "He's alive, which, right now, is what makes me the most happy." She shook her head at their sighs of relief and grins, "But I will not lie to you. He's got a long way to go. We're not sure of the extent of the damage that might have been done, and probably won't until he wakes up and is breathing on his own, which is something he is not doing at the moment. However, someone must have done a good job of taking care of him before the paramedics got there, and whoever that is deserves your thanks. That fact that Ezra is alive is due to that person's quick thinking." She looked at Mary, "May I ask who it was?"
Mary smiled, shooting a smug look at Conklin before pointing to Nathan. "Nathan was the one who took care of him."
The doctor's eyebrows rose, then she smiled. "Well, then, your friend will have a lot to thank you for, young man—you probably saved his life. Well done."
Nathan just blinked, while Buck patted him heartily on the back and Josiah squeezed his arm.
"Now," Dr. Weathers looked back at Mary, "I'm assuming you and the sergeant need to be told the extent of his injuries. They were serious. Besides the hypothermia, he has a dislocated shoulder, multiple bruises and a cut along his right jawline," she ran her finger along her right chin to show where. "He also appears to be malnourished. My largest concern, though, is whether he will wake up, and if he does, whether…he will be the same boy. Right now, he has a fifty-fifty chance." She lifted her hands, "All we can do now is wait." She glanced at the boys again, then at the sergeant, then back at Mary. "Why don't you all head home now, and I'll call you if anything happens. Are you the best one to contact, Principal?"
"Um," Chris stepped forward, "We're not leaving." He was a solid front, with the other five backing him up.
The doctor smiled placatingly, "I can understand your…."
"No. We're staying here. That's final."
"Wait," Mr. Greene walked over to the boy, his wife trailing behind him, "Chris, Belinda and I only live a couple of blocks from here. Why don't you boys stay with us tonight, and come back in the morning."
"Visting hours begin at 10," the doctor added, as if the matter were settled.
"We need to sort out what happened first," Sergeant Corcoron said, speaking up for the first time. His soft Irish brogue colored the statement, but it didn't lessen the absolute nature of it. "I only have bits and pieces now."
"I understand that, sergeant," Stephen Greene agreed, "but I think it can wait until the morning. These boys need some sleep. It will also give my wife a chance to check them over—for example, Mr. Larabee's knuckles, you might note, are bleeding--and then we'll bring them back here at eight. Mrs. Travis, if you and Mrs. Potter want to join us then, and you sergeant, we'll sort out what happened."
Sergeant Corcoran frowned, then shrugged. "Fine, but I want them all here at eight, or you're responsible for them, Stephen."
Mr. Greene nodded solemnly at the charge.
"Can you keep those men overnight without the boy's statements?" Mrs. Potter asked the sergeant.
"Oh, hell, yes. It's not like I don't have plenty to hold those men for. If they did to that boy what this doctor has described…." The sergeant's eyes were dark, and he pursed his lips, not completing his statement. Chris was surprised to see similar expressions of agreement with his words crossing the faces of the other teachers—all except Conklin, who still looked confused by everything.
"Can one of us stay here," Vin asked quietly, stepping up next to Chris to look at the doctor. "Please? If he wakes up and one of us isn't there, he'll be terrified. He hates hospitals. Please?"
Dr. Weathers frowned, then dropped her eyes to the floor. Finally, she sighed and lifted her head. "Okay, one of you."
Vin grinned and turned around to look at the others. They all nodded—there was no question who that one would be. Chris patted him on the shoulder.
"Come with me," the doctor said, taking Vin's arm. "What's your name, young man?"
"Vin. Vin Tanner."
"All right, Vin Tanner. Come on, he's this way," and she led him away through the doors into the main hospital.
Mary looked at her watch, which now read close to 3:00 am. Thank goodness it was Saturday tomorrow, she thought to herself. Turning, she assented to Mr. Greene's idea and suggested they all meet again here at the hospital in the morning.
The last thing she did was tell Conklin not to bother joining them.
The Calling
Ezra wasn't sure where he was. He was aware that he was lying down on something, but mostly he felt like he were floating in ether, rising and falling with each breath he took. At times it made him feel nauseous, other times he couldn't feel anything at all, but most of the time he was just aware of subtle pinpricks of pain all over his body. At least he was alive.
He wondered if that was a good thing.
Noises would occasionally encroach on his floating state—machines beeping or wheezing, people's voices, tones, the sound of a loudspeaker—but nothing he really understood. Smells were equally as baffling—some were sickly sweet, others strong as sweat, and others that he was sure were either bleach or ammonia.
The worst part was that, every so often, very vividly, he would feel an incredible pain in his head, but it would fade quickly, leaving him wondering if the pain was imaginary. It happened often enough, though, for him to know it wasn't. He wished it would stop.
And he was so tired.
Then, something changed. A voice spoke, and he understood the words being said. It was a voice he recognized; one he loved. He wanted to hear it more clearly, and he tried to reach for it. To get closer to the voice. To clearly make out what it was saying, and, more importantly, to answer it.
It was Vin's voice.
What was he saying?
"…and Mrs. Travis is threatening to make us all go back to classes on Wednesday. She says it with a smile, though, so I'm not sure she's serious. I would do it though, Ezra, if I knew you were going to wake up. I'd even try to understand geometry, if you'd just wake up. Please? Just open your eyes…."
Ezra shouted as the voice faded away. Vin! Come back! Don't leave me!
Open his eyes? Were his eyes closed? And wasn't he awake?
Come back! What did you mean?!
Ezra tried not to start crying when silence was his only answer.
And then a different voice emerged from the nothing, another one he knew and wanted to grab on to. Someone else he loved….
Buck.
"….I can't…Oh, hell, Ezra. You have to know…no, shit, damn, hell. Whoops, ha, swearing in a hospital. Think I'll get into trouble, hoss? But, look, what I'm trying to say is…crap. What am I trying to say? What I am trying to say is…I'm sorry. Yeah. Everything I said, everything I did, everything and anything…just, Ezra. Please, please, you have to wake up. You're killing me here. Killing Vin. Killing Josiah and Chris and Nathan and JD. I was an idiot, and if I don't get to tell that to you….Just…."
And then he was gone too. Ezra was so confused. He'd never heard Buck so at a loss for words. People often thought he was the one who was good with words, but, Buck was the king of metaphors, adding color to sentences that were weird but always perfect. Had he ever told him that? He wanted to tell him that.
Damn it! Where was he? What was this place? Why couldn't he talk to them!
Another voice.
For a second, Ezra didn't recognize it. It was so soft, so quiet…then it grew. It was quiet, because the voice was whispering and he had never, ever heard JD whisper.
"…and I found as many pieces as I could. Those I couldn't find, I made. I got some help from Ms. Recillos, Inez's aunt, and all of them are back together. Mostly. They're on the dresser here, so you'll see them when you wake. And you should see the band-aids I've got on my fingers from sewing this one. I swear, I suck at needles, Ez, but Ms. Recillos showed me how to use the sewing machines and…well…the tiger isn't perfect but…here….You probably can't feel that, can you? Well, I've put it next to you. Maybe…maybe if you moved your arm, or your hand, you could feel it there. Just a little. How bout your finger? Just a finger?" And suddenly the voice got louder, so loud Ezra wanted to flinch, "Don't do this Ezra! Don't leave! I can't lose someone else like this, not again! Don't! Please! Don't!...."
Silence. Ezra blinked, or at least, he imagined he blinked. JD had been so loud! Where did he….
Gone. Okay, that's it, he thought. I'm going to cry. If no one can see me cry, then, damn it, I'm…
Who's that?
Nathan?
"….he's been getting your stuff for English and history, and I've been picking up your homework from math, science, economics and stuff, though Mr. Wheeler doesn't think its necessary. He says you shouldn't even be in his class—that it's wasted on you. He said it with a snarl, but I know he meant it as a backhand compliment. He means you're too smart for him Ez. How cool is that to hear, huh? Not that you don't need to be reminded how smart you are. That's like telling Julia Roberts that she has a nice smile." Nathan laughed, and Ezra wished he could see it. Nathan had the best laugh. "Anyway, so, you really should wake up, you know? Cause I'm getting tired of collecting all these notes and…and you should just wake up. Really soon. In fact, now, how about now?....Okay, guess not.…Anyway….in Mr. Coltrain's class…."
No! No, don't go! Nathan! Come back!
A sudden flash of pain in his head. Ezra screamed. Can anyone hear me! Nathan! Nathan! Make it go away!
"…help him! What's wrong with him! You have to help him!"
Chris? That's Chris! Chris, help me!
"…we're doing our best, Chris. Please, stay back."
"…don't give up, Ezra! Don't die, damn it! You hear me!"
I hear you Chris! I hear you! Where are you! Where am I! Help me!
The pain faded.
He was never getting out of this, was he.
Hell.
Why bother.
And then came another voice he loved. Josiah's voice was deep and rumbled, like a train on the tracks. He let Josiah's voice blanket him, not wanting to let it go…at least, not yet.
"…So, with Nathan doing what he calls the hard stuff, I'm doing the soft stuff. You know, English, history, that kind of thing. Ms. Wells, she said you were starting the Tale of Two Cities this week, and I figured I'd read it to you, to get you started, you know? Besides, the hero is a lot like you, Ezra. I think you'd understand him--really well. Better than anyone I know. His name is Sydney Carton. He has this façade of being a sort of ne'er-do-well, a good for nothing, but he's not. He's a great man. He…he…Ezra….look, I want you to listen to this, okay? Listen to these words: 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way . . ..' Probably the greatest introduction ever written, Ezra, rivaled only by Genesis. And it's as true now as it ever was. This is a story about hope, Ezra, and I want you to know what that is again, cause I think you've lost sight of it. I lost sight of myself—I think maybe we all did, except Vin. Oh, crud….damn it, now I'm crying again. Talk about getting soft! Ha! Anyway, ahem, continuing on…."
Continuing on…Josiah? Josiah? You said you'd….Josiah!
"…he hasn't moved at all?"
"No. I keep hoping to see some improvement, especially when he started breathing on his own, but I'm afraid that it no longer seems like…."
"…but it's only been a few weeks…."
"…sure?"
"…coma is probably permanent."
Who was that? Who were those voices?
He didn't know them, but he knew what they said. For the first time, he understood where he was.
And if it was true, then he may as well be….
"…don't you dare even think about leaving me, baby boy. I know you too well, known you for 14 years, and I know what you're thinking in there…."
What? But….No, it couldn't be. How could she….
"You're not dead, baby. You're not. I don't know how exactly you got this way, but you and me, we don't die this way. You hear me?...."
Mother? Mama?
"I got this message, and it scared me to death. I've been masquerading around this town for over a week, and they're going to figure out that I'm here soon, sweetheart, so you have to wake up. The FBI, they will figure out who I am soon, but you know I can't leave until I know that you…until you wake up. So, wake up. Now. You mother commands it. I demand it! Ezra…baby…"
Was she crying? He couldn't remember the last time she cried.
"…please. I don't care if they find me anymore, Ezra. I just want to see your eyes looking at me again. Those beautiful green eyes that I adore. Please, my love, my only real love…."
Love?
But nothing answered him. No! Not now! Come back!
He felt like he was screaming.
I don't want to leave! I want to be with you! Mama!
And then, like a beacon, there was a new voice.
"…We're not giving up on you. They all want to give up on you, and I won't let them, you hear me?"
Chris. Yes! Chris, I want to come home. Please. I know you'll help me! Chris!
"…wake up. Open your eyes. Anything. The others haven't given up on you, and neither have I. The doctors, they think you won't wake up. Mrs. Travis doesn't either. But she's wrong. They're wrong, all of them. They don't know what you're made of, what all seven of use are made of. You're going to wake up and prove them wrong. And do you know why? Because you're one of my boys, and we don't give up. Ever. So you open those green eyes and look at me, Standish! Open them up NOW!"
The order resonated, like a calling. Destiny. Ezra reached out and grabbed it with everything he had….
"C…ss?"
There was a moment of shocked silence. Maybe he didn't succeed? Maybe Chris hadn't heard….
"Ezra? Did you say my name? Ezra!"
Chris reacted instantly, jumping to the bedside and grabbing Ezra's hand in his own, gripping so hard he was probably close to crushing the bones in the thin hand.
"Ezra! Can you hear me? Can you wake up? Open your eyes. Say my name again. Please?"
Chris touched the soft hair, and the cold forehead with his free hand. His hazel eyes searching the pale face and sunken features, focusing on the eyelids.
Were they moving?
"That's it. That's it. Open your eyes Ezra. You can do it!"
And, slowly, painfully slowly, two very small slits appeared, revealing pale green irises. Chris continued to encourage Ezra, wanting him to open them wider. Wanting him to see again.
The eyelids blinked rapidly, then steadied, and two very tired eyes turned to look at Chris Larabee.
"Hi," Chris grinned. "Damn it, I knew you wouldn't give up on me. I knew it!"
Ezra blinked some more, then smiled. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
"What?" Chris leaned over, putting his ear close to those lips, and then he laughed, laughed so hard he thought his heart would burst.
Ezra's first words were: "so cliché, Chris. Need better dialogue…."
The End
Continues in The Legend Continues
