The Deal Pt. 06 - Final

Friday was the last day of school before Christmas recess. My cousin Jess asked me to come by to meet with her and the principle on a zoning matter for a new athletic track. The meeting was at one o'clock and I stopped to purchase Christmas presents for the twins. I thought I'd pop into the day-care centre or ask Jess to hand them over. I found that I was missing spending time those two little tykes.

I was a little late coming down the road when I saw Shannon strapping the twins into her car. I considered whether I should leave it all alone or if I should try catch up before they left. While I was contemplating my course of action there was a screech of tyres and a large Porsche Cayenne SUV tore towards Shannon's car. She was trapped opening her driver's door and the oncoming vehicle. Everything slowed Down into a series of still photos. I saw the Driver, it was Ray, hunched over the wheel, his lips drawn into a tight grimace.

His intention was unmistakeable he was going to ram his Porsche Cayenne into Shannon and I couldn't tell if he knew or cared about his daughters in the car.

I floored the big turbo-charged V8 in the Mercedes and managed to get to him before he got to them. I was doing over eighty when I ploughed into him just behind the back wheel. It was enough to swivel the Porsche past Shannon and the girls. It hit the pavement broadside and rolled.

Initially I was oblivious to the results of my intervention as the multiple airbags deployed holding me firmly in place but also making my eyes water. Then it was almost silent. The Merc's engine had cut out. My face especially my nose felt twisted and numb. My ribs and arms hurt and things inside me felt bruised. My eyes were gritty with dust from the airbags. I tried to open the door but it wouldn't. I wasted time trying, then gave up and crawled to the passenger door and it opened. I climbed out, only to be confronted by Ray. He was bleeding from multiple cuts and abrasions and was limping but it was the gun in his hand that caught my attention.

"Erik Taylor" he snarled hobbling closer, trailing an injured leg. "I might have known!" He pointed the gun at me. "You and that bitch have ruined me, but it's time to end it. Starting with you."

He pulled the trigger the gun gave a flat, dull bark yet even at this close range he missed. He straightened out his arm and tried again. This time I felt a punch in my chest. He fired again and I saw a spurt of blood from my side and a wave of pain. I staggered trying to get to him. I wasn't thinking well, but if I could get the gun off him, Shannon and the twins would be safe.

He pointed the gun at me at point blank range and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. It had jammed. I could see the problem. He had a smokestack in the ejection port precluding the semi-auto from cycling another bullet. He was too crazed to see it and while he was trying to shoot me with a jammed pistol, I managed to catch up with him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

It didn't last long, I was losing my strength and he broke free and started pistol whipping my head and the world went black.

* Chapter 17 *

I tried to make sense of the sounds I was hearing. First there was a repetitive ping above my head, then there was a soft hiss of air blowing into my nose. Third there was the muted sound of voices and equipment from further away.

I could feel warm air blowing gently over me from a nearby aircon. Somewhere in the background was the wet crackle and hiss of what could only have been a humidifier. I was confused. I willed my eyes open like a man who has forgotten how. Bright light assaulted me and I shut them closed. I opened them again slowly this time getting incrementally used to the light.

I looked around, I was in a small hospital room lying on a bed. There was a line in my arm which led to a large bag that read Saline. There was a smaller bottle that read Pipperacillin hanging next to it feeding into the same line. My chest was covered in ECG tabs and the wires led off in a bundle to the monitor above my head. I tried to sit up but found I was as week as a day-old kitten. I leaned back and listened to the general bustle outside my room. It didn't mean much and I had nothing to worry about.

"Oh my God, you're awake." The young black nursing assistant looked at me wide-eyed. She crossed the room and took my hand. "Mr Taylor! Can you hear me Mr Taylor?" I nodded. 'Mr Taylor' was obviously me. She reached over and pressed a button that clearly alerted the main nursing station.

"Help me up," I croaked my voice sounded hoarse. She picked up the electric bed control pad and pressed the button that moved the bed top into a forty-five degree position which left me sitting half-up. A senior nurse hurried in looking somewhere between surprised and pleased. She scanned the monitors and happy with their feedback came over and took my hand. "Squeeze," she instructed and I did. She nodded and walked to the foot of the bed and lifted the covers and ran something pointed across the soles of my feet making me jump and jerk. Satisfied she came back to my head and switched on a small flashlight which she shone in my eyes obviously checking the reactions of my pupils. She seemed satisfied at that also.

"Mr Taylor, do you know where you are?" I shook my head no. "You're at St John's Hospital Mr Taylor, do you know how you got here?" Again I shook in the negative. But I now knew two things: I was Mr Taylor and I was in Hospital, St. John's to be precise. "Can you talk?" she asked.

I squinted at the badge on her chest just above her uniform pocket, It read Sr. J Schultz. It made sense so I said, "Hello Sister Schultz. My voice was still raspy.

She clapped her hands in delight. "I'm off to get your doctor and let your family know!" She left in a controlled rush with a parting comment to the Nursing Assistant. "Alicia, you stay and keep Mr Taylor company."

Alicia seemed to be in her very early twenties and ready to talk. She informed me that my parents had been in to see me every single day. Parents, that made sense. I tried to picture them but nothing came to mind. I tried for names but there was nothing there either.

Alicia was still talking to me and apparently friends and my work staff/colleagues had come around on many occasions. I tried to raise faces or names and once again nothing. The Police had been around repeatedly and did I know that I had a Police guard for almost a week. Hmmm... A week!

She had saved her best till last. "Your girlfriends have all been in repeatedly." She informed me with sense of awe. "Separately and together. Wow, Mr Taylor!" She gushed. "They're all three beautiful!"

I had beautiful girlfriends, plural! I mulled it over. It sounded exciting but unlikely.

I asked for water and she helped me drink. Boy, I really was weak... And uncomfortable. I tried rolling onto my side only to discover that there was something attached to my penis which seemed to lead to a bag hanging off the side of the bed. Now that I saw it, I became aware of a deep-seated discomfort thanks to a hard catheter running up my penis and into my bladder. I tried to ignore it but the harder I tried the more pronounced the discomfort became.

I found myself getting drowsy regardless of Alicia's ongoing chat -- Apparently, she'd never met a hero before -- nor had I. Then it turned out that she was talking about me. I had no idea what she meant but I was pretty sure I was no hero.

I slept.

* * *

Later I was listening to the doctor tell my parents that he expected that my memory would return, possibly all at once or in drips and drabs and only time would tell. The attractive older woman who claimed to be my mother, was holding my hand, calling me Erik and crying happy tears.

My name was Erik. Erik Taylor.

The gentleman with her was grey haired but strong looking -- my father - he was trying to manage the situation and dampen her emotions. I did my best to smile and stay polite but it was difficult.

The doctor informed them that it would be likely that I'd be moved out of High Care and to a room in the general ward. Either later that day or the next.

He gave my charts a professional once over and left telling me not to over-exert myself and that he would organise a Physiotherapist to start with me the following day.

My parents remained, telling me I had saved a family from certain death and I'd been shot. Slowly they recounted the story but honestly it sounded like an episode from a TV show and I took in very little as I found my attention span wandering as I tried to recall what they were saying. Eventually it turned into information overload and I started shutting down completely

They kissed me and promised they'd be back the next morning. My Mother said she'd be back with photo albums, I said, 'that'd be nice'.

When next I saw Alicia, I asked her what day it was - It was Monday the 6th of January 2020. I was told I had been out for sixteen days. It didn't mean much, I felt content and I didn't feel like I was missing anything.

Later that afternoon they pulled out the catheter, I wanted to scream but managed to merely grunt. They gave me some soft food. It was mashed pumpkin and sweet potato with gravy and a small glass of milk. It was ok. I found a toothbrush, some toothpaste and mouth wash in my small metal cupboard next to the bed and proceeded to clean out my mouth because it smelled rank.

I slept and when I woke up again it was seven-thirty in the evening. I was trying to watch the news -- It was all about Covid-19, when she walked in and took my breath away.

She was about five eight and stood about five-nine, five-ten in heels. She was so beautifully proportioned that she looked taller than she was. She was carrying a heavy coat thrown over her arm. Her attire consisted of thick winter leggings that curved over a set of luscious hips and highlighted her delicious thighs, hugging her legs down to her well defined calves and ending in sheepskin boots. She wore a patterned, Bottle green, lamb's-wool sweater that was stretched alluringly by a pair of firm, high, well sized breasts. Her honey blond hair was streaked with multi-layered highlights that looked natural but could have come from an expensive salon. It was cut into a shoulder length bob that swirled around her head as she walked towards me.

I studied her face. She had the strong jawline, small slightly upturned nose and aquiline features normally associated with Scandinavians but with a strong hint of Irish especially the small smattering of freckles across the top of her nose and on her cheeks below her Emerald green eyes, all finished off with the most kissable lips I could possibly imagine. I thought she looked like she was late twenties.

"Oh God Erik, I was told you're awake."

"Hello." My mouth had gone instantly dry and my heart was hammering in my chest. I didn't know who she was but I wanted her to stay.

She sat on the bed next to me and bent down to kiss me on the lips, while cradling my face in her hands. Her movements were so smooth, her demeanour so sure and confident that it was obvious that she had kissed me many times before. Her eyes searched my face and a small frown creased her forehead. "You don't recognise me at all, do you?" A small sob escaped her chest. I shook my head negatively from side to side -- I was doing a lot of that.

"It's me, Shannon! Shannon Ryan" She was still leaning over me and holding my face in her hands. I felt a tear-drop land on my cheek and a second on my lip tasting of salt. She hugged me gently in her arms and sobbed for a long time until she was cried out. I held her tight despite some discomfort - more like pain actually, from my torso and rubbed her back. I couldn't believe this wonderful creature was in my arms.

"Erik, you've saved my children twice, you've saved me over and over, I owe you everything." She sniffed, "You're my hero!" Her lips sought mine again and I was glad I had brushed and used mouthwash after sixteen days of zero oral hygiene.

She spoke like she had months and months of things she wanted to tell me all bottled up inside. She said she wanted to bring the twins around to say hello now that I was awake. I tried to imagine her as a mother but couldn't. All I could see was a beautiful woman, halfway between a Cheerleader and a Swimsuit Model oozing sex appeal. I thought she should come with a government warning.

She said Rebecca -- No idea who Rebecca was - had spent an inordinate amount of time at the hospital with me for the first week but had to fly to Rockford for a Grand Jury selection. I nodded like it meant something but it really didn't. I tried to figure out what my relationship with Rebecca was, especially after Shannon said that Rebecca was sending love and kisses and bent down to give me another unchaste kiss on behalf of Rebecca.

She said that knowing I liked quality coffee She would bring me some the next morning.

She spoke about the day I got shot in detail, explaining how my actions had stopped her ex-husband, Ray Hollis, from ramming his SUV into her and her BMW with the girls inside -- she showed me pictures of the two cuties on her phone's screen.

I must admit that her account of what happened was somewhat convoluted but I understood that while Ray was trying to kill me, she had the opportunity to gather the twins and run back into the school building where the school guard locked the doors till the police arrived. She looked fiercely in my eyes when she said, she wanted to run back to help me but it was all over in mere minutes.

When Ray hobbled off and disappeared, she ran to me. I was lying unconscious in the road. She held me and begged me not to die until the EMS arrived and she was moved aside so they could work on me. She said when they drove off, she was left in a lake of my blood wailing until her colleagues gathered her and took her to the same hospital as me, where she was sedated and booked in for the night. I learned that the school Vice Head is my cousin and she was the one that alerted all my friends and family of the situation.

They had all kept vigil for days until I was pronounced critical but stable. Then over the next days I had slowly but surely improved from critical, to serious, and finally to stable as long as I didn't throw up a clot or end up with a super-bug infection, but it was the head injuries that had left me in a prolonged coma.

We spoke more about the events and I learned that her ex, Ray, 'the perp', was missing since the attack. Shannon and the Police both, suspected that his friends had helped him skip to Mexico. It seemed that he had been taking so many short cuts on the construction business that once the building Inspector LeBron Jackson came under scrutiny, Ray's projects were no longer getting approvals and the business was tanking.

He had reportedly transferred his family trust and his personal accounts into an offshore bank and there were sufficient funds to give him a reasonable long term lifestyle in Mexico or someplace else South of the border. Well, fuck him then. But I still had no idea about what it all really meant and Shannon spent an age filling me on the background while I kept stopping her asking for clarifications.

She said she had met Elza -- I had no idea who Elza was either - but like Rebecca I got the impression that she was significant. Apparently, she had come down to see me and stayed for three nights. They all spent a lot of time together. Elza, Rebecca and Shannon. They went out to supper twice and it turns out they had much to talk about. She didn't elaborate on what and I didn't understand why, there was a hurt, sad and almost angry look in Shannon's green eyes.

It was almost an hour later when the night shift Matron came through and asked her to leave. This was a high-care ward and not a general ward after all and it was already way past visiting hours.

She kissed me tenderly but long when she was leaving and I felt a tingle of butterflies in my stomach.

The next day I was transferred to a private room in a general ward and my Physiotherapist met up with me before breakfast. He massaged my unused muscles and got me walking about in a Zimmer frame. I didn't get far before I was huffing and puffing.

An attractive forty-year-old visited me -- she said, she was my PA and her name was Bev. After hugging and kissing me on my cheek she handed me a new cell phone. Mine had been lost in the crash or its aftermath. Luckily, she said, that I had made a point of backing up to the cloud and it was a simple thing to download my contacts. I had however, lost many of my messages, particularly my WhatsApp looked like a mess, but I supposed I could sort it out later once my memory (hopefully) returned.

I also hoped I could start remembering things soon as I was getting over my previous apathy and was starting to get antsy.

As far as my injuries were concerned, I had many. The crash itself had resulted in a broken nose and damaged orbit or eye socket. Both my thumbs had been dislocated because apparently when you have a crash you should take your hands off the steering wheel. Who knew? All those were mostly sorted and fixed other than a small amount of tenderness in my facial area. I had a chipped tooth that would require dentistry but that could wait.

I had been shot twice. The first was an in and out through my right lung which had subsequently collapsed. They plugged the hole and re-inflated my lung and although very serious there was no other damage other than my pectoral muscle which still sported a huge black and yellow bruise and an angry looking puckered scar where they had stitched it. My back I couldn't see, but apparently the damage was to my lower trapezoid and a much bigger exit wound that had left some muscle damage and a two-inch scar.

The wound to my side was less dangerous but visually and painfully worse. The bullet had hit and shattered a rib and come out leaving a jagged seven-inch exit wound that curled almost to my spine. The rib was patched and shouldn't leave me with a physical disability but it would take at least a couple of months more before I had full unhampered movement.

Equally dangerous to the lung wound, was the severe concussion I had received between the airbags inflating and getting pistol whipped. The concomitant brain swelling was dangerous so they had drilled my skull and inserted a shunt to help release excessive pressure from my brain. The Neurosurgeon suspected that the swelling was the reason for my memory loss and thought that my memory would return once my brain returned to normal. The worst of it was how weak I felt and that frustrated me no end.

My parents proceeded to visit me daily, taking time to show me photos and regale me with stories of my younger exploits.

Shannon came by every morning before starting classes at school with two Starbucks coffees which we drank together and chatted... She said that I had saved her from her abusive husband Ray whom she tried to divorce and he had attempted to leave her penniless thanks to an ironclad prenup she had stupidly signed. He also wanted full custody of the twins, just to spite her. I finally met them later that day. They called me Uncle Erik, climbed all over my bed and ate most of the candy in the get well baskets I had received.

Shannon's morning coffee run and late evening visits quickly became the highlight of my days. She spoke honestly about her early years of marriage and its eventual demise. She said that she thought in some ways it was Karma for the bitch she had been in her younger days. I laughed and said I couldn't imagine a single bitch bone in her whole body.

She smiled sadly at my words and said that becoming a mother to the girls had changed her completely but that now, without a father figure she would have to try be everything to them. I said she needed to find herself a good man to complete her family and I suddenly had my first memory and told her I remember buying the twins Christmas presents but I supposed they had been lost in the accident, but that I would get them an 'after Christmas' present, as soon as I was out of hospital.