Emergence: A Liam Chronicles Short Story (Liam Chronicles Short Story Collection Book 1) Read online

  The door hung from its hinges, the wood splintered to pieces that littered the entryway. That’s what happens to weak wood when a battering ram breaks through it. The tactical team stormed into the scene like a tornado ripping through the house. The girl lay on the floor, the drug dealer straddling her small body. The filet knife in his fist cut into the flesh under the furthest reach of her shattered collarbone as he feverishly tried to dig the bullet out.

  “Drop the knife!”

  “Hands on your head!”

  “Face down, now!”

  “Dear God, she’s still awake.”

  An officer named Deston knelt next to the battered and bleeding girl, his knee pad soaking in the blood pooling from underneath her frail frame. Her dark hair was burdened with the weight of the crimson fluid as he touched her face then checked her pulse.

  “We need the medics, now!”

  Chief John Bruneau stood in the doorway, his cold hands limp at his sides. It felt like a scene from someone else’s life as he tried to get all of his experience and training to move him back to his point of his command. Another of his sergeants had joined the first next to the girl, touching her gently and trying to comfort her as they piled cloth onto her gaping wound. Her lips moved with words that no one could hear. The longer he looked at her, on the floor the less he could move. Someone was urgently calling the ambulance.

  Two officers had the drug dealer by the arms, his wrists twisted behind his back with zip ties. They drug the crazed man away from the little girl, the toes of his shoes leaving marks on the floor. His blue eyes were ravenous under the dirty lank tendrils of his black hair. John knew better. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he also knew that these were his men and that was his goddaughter and not one soul in the house would move to stop him.

  John lifted his side arm with a steady hand and leveled it at the drug dealer’s head in the silence that pounded in his skull, in his blood. The two officers on either side of the resisting criminal froze, looking at one another but remaining quiet. Maxwell, in all his crazed fury, stared John in his eyes without flinching. Chief Bruneau lowered his weapon so that it hung uselessly in his loose fist at his side. His rage drained through the soles of his shoes and fell through the cracked foundation of the house.

  “Get him out of here.”

  Christina’s eyes fluttered and rolled, but he wouldn’t have called her conscious as he walked over to look down on his troubled goddaughter. None of his training prepared him to watch her die. He touched her face and felt her colorless skin under his fingertips as her lips worked desperately with each labored breath. The white clothes that made her improvised tourniquets were stained cherry red.

  “Chief.” One of the sergeants touched John and he could hear again in a rush. The noise of the house, of the rushing officers and the medics moving him out of the way as her little mouth stopped moving.

  The EMTs lifted her onto a gurney in a delicate hurry. Sirens screamed a sorrowful song from the front lawn, echoing through the aloof woods and the bloodstained house.

  The chief and Officer Deston followed the ambulance with their blue and white lights on. The officer that had been at Christina’s side, checking her pulse, now sat in the passenger side of the squad car. The two men shared a disdainful silence, an odd sense of camaraderie born between them. They’d been the officers to tell Christina that her parents had died four years before.

  “Four years. I hoped I’d never have to that little girl in pain again.” The officer shook his head as he attempted to break the silence. John kept his lips pressed together in a bruising line, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

  The doctors were too rushed to give answers to the uniformed police chief in the emergency waiting room. John sat alone, with his hat clutched in his fists for hours. He’d sent everyone else to the station. They had jobs to do, paperwork to file.

  His job was to be with her.

  Now he waited, contemplating his role in all of this. He had been the one to talk her into wearing the wire. He was the one who had been pushing her to get help for her addiction. He had failed her to begin with, letting that monster into her life. If he had been more present, maybe-

  A code blue sounded over the pager system and John watched a dozen nurses and staff rush in the direction he’d seen them wheel Christina a lifetime before. A nurse rubbed his back as he paled. She held the trashcan for him as he spilled bile and coffee into the black bin. Every ounce of hope exited his body in violent rush, leaving him empty and numb.

  Pale and shaken, John curled his feet up in his seat, cradling his arms around his knees with tears in his eyes. He had promised her father that he’d look after her. He’d done an awful job so far. This was what the lawyers had meant when they said he shouldn’t seek custody of her. He wasn’t the right type of person to be a dad. He was her godfather and the only thing he had left in the world was gone. The nurse stayed beside him, whispering soothing words with eyes betraying her pity.

  “Chief Bruneau.” The surgeon approached John with a grim expression and an extended hand. John the boy unraveled himself into John the man as he stood straight and pained. “We lost her for a few minutes but we got her back. She’s still in critical condition. She’s stabilized for now. You can see her if you’d like.”

  The gunshot was loud. It hurt my ears. I had tried to scramble away when I saw the gun, but I just wasn’t fast enough. Maybe if I had eaten breakfast. Everyone always said it was important to eat breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry that morning. No one ever said I’d die if I didn’t eat it. They should tell you that in cereal commercials.

  I shouldn’t have scratched at the tape. Maxwell wouldn’t have known if hadn’t scratched. John hadn’t told me the wire would itch so much.

  It hurt, burned like fire and I knew I was screaming even though my ears were ringing and I couldn’t hear. I could tell Maxwell was screaming too. He was on top of me and the pain started to go away as my body grew heavy. It wasn’t a good feeling but at least it didn’t hurt anymore. There was a noise louder than the ringing in my ears and for a second I thought Max had shot me again. For good measure. I could imagine him saying it. He had always had a temper.

  I wish I had known about the gun.

  How did people get shot in the movies and keep moving like it was nothing? They were liars. This hurt. I hated liars.

  Voices ran together. They sounded a lot like a train to me. Really loud and long and annoying. The sound was too close to my ears as the ringing faded. My hair felt heavier than usual and I couldn’t lift my head to look around. Someone was beside me touching my face. Someone else touched my arm. I tried to ask for a blanket, that I was so cold but I didn’t hurt anymore. They didn’t listen. Stupid adults.

  I managed to turn my head as Maxwell was pulled away. It hurt my eyes to stare. I saw John and tried to smile.

  I had done good. He was going to get Max for a long time. We had done it. When John looked at me, though, he didn’t look happy. I tried to ask him why he wasn’t smiling. Max going away and now I was going to be good, just like he wanted. He wouldn’t have to check on me anymore. I was going to stop worrying him. I’d be a good girl, just like he asked.

  John normally at least pretended to listen to me, but he wouldn’t answer. Why was everyone ignoring me?

  I had to fight to keep my eyes open. I was so tired and it took a lot to stay awake. I was cold though, and I hated sleeping in the cold. I could stay awake for a little longer. I just ha
d to try harder.

  I must have fallen asleep. I heard the sound of sirens and saw strangers hovering over me. I must have been in an ambulance because they looked like the EMTs on TV against the while of the cabin. The man sitting beside me yelled and pulled a needle out.

  No. No more needles. I’m never going to use a needle ever again.

  He didn’t listen to me. I went back to sleep and I wasn’t cold anymore. It was nice to be floating. This wasn’t like the high from heroin. I wonder how they did it.

  The next thing I saw I was standing beside a hospital bed watching a group of people fawn over a little girl. She was pretty, but she looked messed up. I wondered if we were in the same class. She looked like me, had dark hair and maybe she was eleven too. I hoped she’d be okay but her skin was so pale and her heart monitor wasn’t beeping. The line was straight and unmoving. Someone yelled orders and her IVs were changed. She was given shots in her arms. A male nurse gave her CPR and her monitor ticked once, then grew still again.

  “Well, you have to save her.” I told the doctor as he ran into the room. I was so mad. “She deserves for you to try! Look at her. She’s just a kid. Save her!”

  He ignored me too, like everyone else always did. People parted out of the way as they pulled her gown open. She had a lot of stitches on her collarbone with deep black bruises. A machine was wheeled up and the doctor put goo on the metal paddles I’d seen on hospital shows.

  The doctor called something out before putting the paddles to her chest. Her body jumped. Someone said it had been two minutes. The doctor shook his head and swore. Her body jumped again as he tried to restart her heart. Her head turned, her face no longer covered by dark hair.

  I realized she was me and I was dead.

  “I’m sorry.” I told the closest person to me, trying to grab them. They moved away. “Listen, I’ll be good! Just don’t let me die! Okay? I promise. I did good! I’ll be better from now on!”

  The monitor beeped once, then twice. Everything went dark for me again and I hurt. I felt so hot. My arm felt itchy but I couldn’t scratch it. On the third try I opened my eyes to see John was there too. He was sleeping in the chair beside the hospital bed. He had stubble on his face and I’d never seen him with facial hair before. Even asleep he looked tired.

  “Hi.” I guess I surprised him because his eyes flew open and he nearly fell out of his chair to come to me. He hit the button on the bed to call the nurse. He was saying things too fast for me to catch. I heard him apologize a few times. “Did you get him? Did I help?”

  He looked at me and stopped talking. For a second I thought he hadn’t heard me again. Then he took my face in his hands, confusing me. I wondered if he was mad at me for getting hurt.

  And then he started to cry.

 

 

  C L Foltermann, Emergence: A Liam Chronicles Short Story (Liam Chronicles Short Story Collection Book 1)

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net