SOS Pt. 01

What kind of bastard could do this to him?

"Erik... don't worry. Everything will be fine," Martin whispered to him, stroking his hair. "You'll be alright," he comforted him, but Erik didn't answer, he just waited silently.

When they arrived at the gate of the hospital's ambulance yard, Franta was already standing in front of the gate with the doctor's car, arguing with the gatekeeper who couldn't open the barrier.

Neliba stopped the ambulance right behind the doctor's car, got out angrily and slammed the door of the ambulance.

Meanwhile, Martin was still in the ambulance with Otta at the boy's side and heard Neliba yelling at the gatekeeper that they were in a hurry and that he should call maintenance!

"This could take a long time..." he muttered.

But what else could he do? They couldn't get through the gate and the drivers were standing outside arguing with the gatekeeper.

"Damn..." Martin breathed out loudly. "Open the door..." he ordered to Otta and he opened the back door of the ambulance.

Martin and Otta carried Erik outside on a stretcher and lowered the wheels. "We have to run!" breathed Martin, feeling nervous.

Each grabbed one side of the stretcher and they ran with it between the cars, through the gate and continued with it to the emergency department.

Franta came up to Neliba and nudged him gently. "What would you do in his place? Huh?" And tapped him on the arm. "When this idiot can't even lift a fucking barrier!" he added angrily, glaring at the gatekeeper, who took a few steps back.

***

Martin walked down the hallways in the hospital. He was all pale and nervous about whether the boy would survive. Maybe he wouldn't have been so worried about anyone else, but Erik... somehow, after that night, he started to care a little about him.

He knew that Erik's chances of survival were good, but he had concerns. When he passed the coffee machine, he stopped.

He tossed coins into the machine and clicked on the coffee icon he wanted, and when the machine poured the coffee into his cup, Martin took the cup and began to slowly sip the hot coffee.

A few seconds later, Franta approached him and immediately bought a coffee too. "You did well, doctor," he said, trying to reassure him. "I believe that boy will survive," he added, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

"But I am under a lot of stress, Franta," Martin answered him, feeling uneasy.

"That's part of the job. You must know best yourself." He was trying to cheer him up a bit.

They talked for a while... Franta then continued to curse about the incompetent gatekeeper and after a few minutes Dr. Adler came to them and looked at Martin.

Martin was all pale and shaken, little drops of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Don't worry. He will survive..." Dr. Adler breathed out and smiled at Martin.

Martin took a deep breath and exhaled in relief. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and calmed down.

"It's a good thing you ran with him. If it had been just a few minutes later, he wouldn't have survived," the doctor added.

"Oh man!" Martin said a little gleefully, turning around and burying his forehead in the wall.

He had managed to save that boy, and he was happy about it. He had already experienced several deaths of children and was afraid that he probably would not be able to handle another one. But he was elated... that everything turned out well.

Erik would live and it was wonderful news.

***

A few minutes later, Martin walked down the hall with Dr. Adler and inquired more about the boy.

His hands were in his pockets, and they both walked at a slow pace.

"May I ask you a question, doctor?" Dr. Adler stopped and looked at Martin.

"Yeah?" Martin answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Why are you so interested in this boy? You're not a member of his family and you're not even related to him. When I came to you and told you that the boy would live, you looked happy. Or am I mistaken?"

Martin swallowed hard. He had asked himself the same question today. The night he carried Erik in his arms and Erik curled up into a ball, looked quiet and content... Martin loved that. He remembered how the poor boy cried softly, his eyes were marked with immense pain, and when he left him, he felt as if his heart would be torn apart.

Maybe he really cared about Erik?

When he saw him again today in this terrible state and with a bleeding wound on the street, he felt bad, pity and compassion for the boy and felt pain in his heart again.

"I don't know, doctor..." Martin answered with his head down, still thinking. "It wasn't the first time I saved him, it's almost like some fate," he added, and Dr. Adler gave him a small smile. "He's... strange. I've never met anyone like him. I felt sorry for him from the beginning, and had compassion for him. I might even say... that I care about him."

Dr. Adler nodded. He understood Martin's concern for a boy he didn't even know, but perhaps Martin was simply a kind-hearted and caring person. These qualities were scarce among people today, very, very rare.

"Can I... can I see him, doctor?" Martin asked him quietly.

"You're not his relative, doctor"

"Please..." Martin begged him.

Dr. Adler thought for a moment and then sighed. "Okay... but only this time. Come with me, I'll take you to him. He's still under anesthesia and is sleeping, though. We took him out of the operating room a while ago, so the boy won't be talking to you."

"That's all right. I just want to see him," Martin replied sincerely, and Dr. Adler led him to Erik's room.

***

Erik was lying motionless on the bed. He had an inhaler in his mouth and his stomach was bandaged. He wasn't alone in the room, he had a roommate patient who was lying on the second bed next to him, but they were separated by a curtain.

Martin walked into their room and ignored the other patient on the bed who was awake and looking at him. Martin just walked past him and stopped at Erik's bedside.

He looked at Erik... somewhere deep inside he felt pain and pity for him again. It occurred to him that Erik looked even more innocent as he lay on the bed, vulnerable and lonely. He took his hand again, still standing in the same place on Erik's left side, and squeezed his hand gently.

After being silent for a moment and looking at him, he released his hand and reached into the breast pocket of his orange jacket and pulled out a paper and pencil. He wrote a few words on the paper, put the pencil back in his pocket and folded the paper. He took Erik's right hand, which was resting with his palm on his belly, and put the paper in his palm, closed his fingers around it, and put his hand back on his belly.

"Be safe... Erik," he whispered very softly with a smile so that Erik's roommate couldn't hear him, and after a few seconds he slowly left their room.

He closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the corridor, and immediately Franta ran up to him. "Boss, where are you hanging out?" he asked, panting as he searched the entire hospital for him. "We have to get back or we'll be in trouble."

"I know... let's go," he sighed and walked with Franta to their car.

***

Erik woke up sometime in the early evening. He was still under the influence of the anesthesia and felt limp. He opened his eyes very slowly and looked around to see where he actually was.

In the hospital again... and again he had Martin to thank for that. He felt a bit of pain in his stomach, and slowly, weakly, he wanted to reach with his hand to the place where it hurt, but he realized that he had a bandage on his stomach, so he relaxed and just stared at the ceiling for a while.

After a while, he felt something in his right hand. He had a folded paper hidden in his palm, so he took it between his fingers and unfolded it.

Something was written on it. Erik was still dazed, so his eyesight was blurry, but when he looked at the paper for a while he could read what was written on it.

Dear Erik,

I am glad that you are alright. I hope you are not in too much pain and that you will be fine soon.

The police have also been called to your case, so wait for them to see you and please don't be afraid of them and feel free to tell them everything you know. They will help you.

When I saw you today I immediately remembered the night when we met for the first time and I carried you in my arms and you fell asleep, and I am really sorry you had such an awful situation again and that someone attacked you so beastly.

My mother told me that you were looking for me and could not find me. I'm sorry for my absence.

So I ask you, when you are healed, come and visit me. On the back of the paper I wrote my address where you can find me, and if I'm not home, please don't go anywhere so that something does not happen to you again. Just wait for me and then we will talk.

Martin Kadera.

When Erik finished reading it, he immediately let go of his tears and pressed the paper lightly against his chest with the palm of his hand.

He himself had no idea why he was actually looking for Martin. Did he want to thank him? Or did he want... maybe something more? Maybe he wanted to feel his warmth again and snuggle into his arms?

Now he was glad that he knew where Martin lived, and he was determined to go there immediately when he was released. But he knew it wouldn't be right away. He would be in the hospital for at least a month.

***

In the evening, after his shift, Martin went to a bar where people from the rescue service went after work.

He needed something hard to drink today. What happened to Erik weighed heavily on him. He sat down on a bar stool at the counter and ordered a drink from the bartender.

The bartender placed the drink in front of him and Martin began to sip slowly while thinking about Erik.

What happened to him? He's so young, weak... how could he run away from the orphanage? Poor boy. He must have had a good reason for that. Now he was wandering the streets alone. Luckily, the boys and I made it on time and Erik is alive. It would probably hurt me deeply if that little boy died. Who could have done this to him?

"What's with you today, doctor?" asked Robert, the bartender, leaning his hand on the counter and looking at Martin.

Martin sat quietly, rubbing a glass of alcohol in his hand and supporting his head with his other hand. He looked at Robert, who was eyeing him, and yawned a little.

"Tough day, huh?" Robert asked again.

"You don't even know how."

"What happened this time? Another child had an accident?" he asked curiously, starting to wipe the wet glasses.

"Yeah... It was the same boy as the day before yesterday," Martin answered and took a sip of alcohol.

"The one you found on the street?"

"Exactly. Someone stabbed the poor boy today," Martin said, feeling dejected.

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that. Is he all right, at least?"

"Yes. He's in the hospital now. Anyway... when I saw him again today... the memories of Christmas night came back flooding my memory. He looked so... horrible. Like something was bothering him, and when I took him in my arms... he relaxed and felt much better right away."

Robert smiled a little. "Who would have thought that a junkie and a homeless person could be like that, right? Maybe something happened to him before and he really needed a hug," Robert said, wiping down another glass.

"I guess you're right. He was even looking for me."

"Really?" Robert raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah... My mother called me last night that a little boy came into the control room asking for me. Unfortunately, I didn't stay long at work late yesterday and went straight home, so the boy couldn't find me."

"Do you have any idea... why he was looking for you?" Robert asked.

"I don't know," Martin answered directly, propping his arms on the counter. "Maybe he wanted to talk to me or thank me? After today, I wrote him on a note where he could find me when he gets out of the hospital."

"Aren't you going to see him there?"

"I would go. But I'm not his relative and they won't let me see him. I had to persuade the doctor into letting me see him for a while, today. I doubt he'll do it again next time." Martin paused for a moment, then sighed. "I'll have to wait... until he comes to me. Then I'll have a talk with him. I'm very interested... why he ran away from that orphanage," he added, finishing his glass.

After a while, Robert brought him another glass that Martin had ordered, and continued to wash more glasses. "He ran away from the orphanage?" he wondered.

"That's what he told me."

"Maybe that's why he was that way when you found him at Christmas, doctor."

"What do you mean?" Martin asked, looking at Robert seriously.

"I wasn't at the orphanage, but my... boyfriend was there. He told me about stuff that happens at the orphanages. The kids there are mean to each other, they often fight and beat each other and don't trust anybody. The teachers could hardly do anything because children didn't trust them. Kids were just afraid to say anything."

"Is it really that bad over there?" Martin was surprised.

"From what my friend told me, it probably is."

Such a poor boy. I hope nothing bad happened to Erik there.

***

February 2022

Martin was back on post with his unit and as usual, they were waiting for some emergency. Martin sat with them inside at the table playing cards with Otta. Neliba was sitting on the sofa watching TV and Franta was standing at the small stove cooking something.

"I'll salt the doll... and fry the portions in the pan until golden," Franta spoke as she stirred something in the pan with a wooden spoon. "I will cut the mushrooms and saute them nicely in butter with shallots. I'll slice the meat..."

Martin watched him through past and grinned, because Franta was cooking something very different from what he was describing.

"... and cubed baked potatoes," Franta continued, licking his lips. "This poem is called - A doll marinated in Provençal herbs, on fresh forest mushrooms."

"Hah..." Neliba laughed. "Maybe in your dream. You're doing your shit again, aren't you? It stinks all the way here," he added, looking back at the TV.

Within moments, everyone's pagers suddenly beeped.

Fall to the floor, unconscious

Urgency 1

***

Franta was disappointed that he had to stop cooking, but his colleagues were excited. Martin was sitting with Franta in the doctor's car with flashing blue lights and hooker on, they drove to the case.

Neliba and Otta were right behind them and they all went to the parliament for the case.

"They said he's some kind of cook?" said Franta.

Martin grinned. "A better cook than some MP..." and he laughed. "At least he can cook goulash," he added, and Franta laughed, too.

"That's a fact... But I've never been in this chamber before," Franta said, watching the road.

"I would at least like to look into that canteen..." replied Martin.

"Why?"

"Well, for a hundred Czech crowns you can feed the whole family there."

"Is it that cheap?"

"You bet!" replied Martin, looking at Franta.

They drove through Prague through narrow streets, drifting between cars.

"Then let's go eat something there, shall we?" Franta said after a moment of silence.

Martin smirked again. "We'll take the cook with us, so we probably won't eat much there..." he answered and they all stopped their cars on the sidewalk in front of the parliament building.

They took everything they needed out of the cars and the four of them went inside. They asked someone behind the door where they could go to the kitchen and immediately hurried in the direction they were supposed to go.

But inside the parliament there was a guard next to the security gate, which of course they wanted to bypass because they were in a hurry, but the guard who was standing at the gate stopped them.

"Stop! Where are you going?" he asked them.

"Rescue," replied Franta, and they all looked at the guard.

"And who called you?" he seemed suspicious.

"Party and government," Neliba answered annoyed.

"Which party?"

"That's going to be a problem, guys..." Neliba muttered, turning his back on him.

Martin walked around Neliba and stood in front of the guard. "We're wasting time here... someone needs help and you're keeping us here!" he said angrily and wanted to move on, but the guard pushed him away.

"Here you're in Parliament!" the security guard replied as he pushed Martin away. "Show me your IDs, who you're going to visit, and how long you'll be there. Type in the book!" he said, showing the boys a book.

"Your poor cook. He's probably going to die," said Franta.

"And it'll be your fault!" Martin added angrily to the guard.

The guard stopped and looked at them for a moment. "So you're going to the kitchen?" he asked them.

"No..." Answered Neliba. "We're going to the boiler room for the cook," he added ironically.

That guard didn't care and pointed his finger at the suitcase that Franta was holding in his hand. "What's in that suitcase?" he asked Franta.

"Medical supplies, aids and medicines," answered him also annoyed.

"Then put it on the x-ray belt. I need to check it and you all go through the security gate."

So Franta reluctantly put the suitcase on the belt that went into the X-ray. Neliba went through the gate first and the security guard searched him.

"You were right..." Neliba said and turned to Martin. "If it wasn't for crying, it would be for pissing."

The chef, dressed in a white and green chef's apron, ran through the door. He was pissed off and yelled at them. "What took you guys so long?"

Martin glared at him. "Complaining to a colleague here. We would have been there three times already," he replied calmly.

The chef looked at the guard, and grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face him. "I keep wondering where they're hanging out and he keeps them here, this dwarf!" he said angrily, pushing him against the wall. "And don't look at me like on the meal you didn't order!" he yelled in his face.

The guard was taken aback and quite startled by the chef's anger and just stood there without speaking.

The chef turned to the paramedics, took a quick breath and said, "Come, gentlemen..." and led them to the kitchen where the patient was lying.

***

Erik was recovering well in the hospital.

First, the police came to him and questioned him about the details of his assault. Erik was desperate and scared... but still he finally gathered the courage to tell the police everything. He knew very well who had attacked him, and he also knew where to find him.

The police also questioned him about his heroin use and wanted to know who had sold him the drugs. Erik was again afraid at first that this would get him into more trouble and danger, but eventually he told them the whole truth.

During his stay at the hospital, he often shed tears. He felt empty and lonely, but one nurse took pity on him. She washed his dirty clothes for him and even brought him some clothes from her grandson's house that he didn't wear it in a long time, and Erik was very grateful, although he still missed the smile on his face.

At the end of January, the police caught Erik's attacker and arrested him. It was now mid-February, and Erik had been released from the hospital again. He was wearing new clothes that the good nurse had brought him, and he carried his old clothes with him in a bag.

He didn't even think much about what he was going to do next, as he had made the decision a long time ago and he knew what he was going to do now. He wanted to find Martin again.

And so he immediately set out on foot. He knew Martin's address, which Martin had written on a piece of paper that he still held in his hand as a talisman of luck and hope. Martin's house wasn't very far away. Only an hour away.