Clouded Rainbow (23 page)

Roger charged through the rain, which pelted his face. He kept his head up as he traveled in the direction of his wife. Miles tried to keep pace, but the lack of food inside his belly made his muscles fail. Although Roger lacked any sort of tangible caloric intake just like his friend, he was acting not on stored energy, but on stored love. A gust of wind punched Roger’s right shoulder. He spun around and bounced off a metal trashcan. The opportunity allowed Miles to gain some ground.

“Hey! It’s horrible out here! Shouldn’t we take cover? Wait till this blows over?” Miles yelled through the rain.

Roger kept moving, but the right side of his stomach pained him. At first, he assumed it was his hungry gut, but the throbbing seemed external and concentrated on his right side. Roger glanced down at his shirt and saw the deep color of red saturating the already rain-drenched fabric.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Miles asked.

Roger raised his shirt and saw a one-inch gash on his abdomen. The puncture was deep, splitting apart all layers of skin, but the rainwater washed away the blood making it appear less severe. Nevertheless, the wound required medical attention and added even more damage to his already damaged body. Roger tasted the rain and looked in the direction of his final destination.

“I have to get to my wife. I need her, and she needs me.”

“I hear you, my man. But you can’t fight Mother Nature, my daddy always said. Too bad we don’t have a car. Damn, I wish I had my old beater. She would’ve got us there, no problem.”

A truck splashed water on Roger’s feet as he looked toward the morning traffic. Miles’ logic made sense, Roger figured, as finding a vehicle would shave off time from the uphill journey. Roger darted into the traffic like a toddler chasing a rolling ball. He eyed a dark SUV traveling through the rain. It was tall, wide, and painted jet black. As Roger stared at the approaching headlights, he realized it was the same model he owned—at least until the accident. The lights headed closer and closer as Roger recognized the vehicle might not stop. Either way, he was unable to move, unable to dive for cover in case the SUV failed to halt. He had made up his mind to flag down a vehicle. Abruptly, Roger heard the squeal of rubber sliding across the water-coated tar. The SUV stopped as Roger felt a gush of rain fly from the hood.

Roger moved around to the driver’s side as the window rolled down halfway.

“Excuse me,” Roger said to the shadowy interior.

“Are you nuts? I almost hit you!” the driver’s deep voice barked.

Roger saw the beady eyes of a muscular African American businessman dressed in a suit.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Miles screamed to the cars behind the stopped SUV. He had followed Roger into the street and was now acting like a traffic cop.

“Can I borrow your car? Or, uh, I mean can you give me a ride?” Roger asked the infuriated businessman.

“Man, you’re crazy! What’re you on?”

Unbeknown to Roger and Miles, a police car had stopped several cars behind the stalled SUV. Its occupant was a cop patrolling the streets looking for the “hi-pri” man, Roger Belkin. The patrolman raised his neck as he attempted to discern the hold-up ahead. Through the murkiness, he saw the figure of a short tousled man, a bum he reasoned, standing in the middle of the road directing traffic. Instinctively, he engaged his red and blue lights and flipped his siren.

Roger heard the unmistakable siren wail and looked in its direction. He saw the raindrops dispersing the vivid red and blue lights of a vehicle that was undeniably a police car. Both Roger and Miles scurried back toward the sidewalk as a passing vehicle in the oncoming lane hit its horn.

The black businessman punched the throttle; his SUV launched forward.

The patrolman saw the duo hustling down the sidewalk, one short and one tall. He remembered the call from the dispatch informing him and his fellow officers to look out for a parade of two bums, one short and one tall, the tall one being the wanted Roger Belkin.

“Hey! Stop! Both of you!” the patrolman yelled over his loudspeaker as he nailed the gas and sped toward the fleeing couple.

Several blocks away, Det. Cleveland raced through the heavy traffic toward the hospital. He drove erratically, seatbelt unfastened and trench coat partly hanging out of his driver’s side door, as he scanned the streets in search of Roger. The city map lay crumbled on the floor of the passenger’s side as his stop at the restaurant had significantly lowered his search radius. The answer to Roger’s location was now up to his eyes. His eyes, however, were filled with gloom and blaring headlights. As the detective monitored the unclear sidewalks, a voice cut in on his police radio.

“Attention all units, we have two suspects on foot at First and Poplar heading south in the direction of Southern General Hospital. One fits the description of Roger Belkin wanted for Grand Theft Auto and in connections to Retail Theft. All units are asked to assist. Take any and all precautions as the suspects are assumed to be armed and dangerous.”

Det. Cleveland widened his eyes and pressed his right foot farther to the floor. He knew he was running out of time as the city’s army focused their might on the misunderstood man. He attempted to navigate the downtown road, but the heightened traffic prevented his full speed maneuvering.

“Come on! Move!” he commanded.

Det. Cleveland glanced at the center console and realized he had a solution underneath his right elbow. He unearthed a red police light mountable to the roof of a vehicle. The light rarely saw any use, but at this point, he needed something to make a passageway through the wall of traffic. While the detective usually relied on stealth rather than force, now was a time that force was the only option. He lowered his window halfway as the rain poured into the car’s open wound, which further doused his already soaked trench coat. Through the wind, Det. Cleveland flipped a switch, which engaged the red rotating light. At first, he could not tell if the light actually worked, but a stubborn truck in front moved to the right and slowed. With that problem solved, he pegged the gas, as his car’s speed was now his only barrier to reaching the hospital.

24

A bolt of lightning ignited the sky as a thunderous boom immediately followed. Roger hiked down a sidewalk toward a cross street. Miles was several paces behind, but fully energized from their near hit with the police. They lost the police car not by speed or stealth, but by the overpowering rain and its ability to conceal everything under its wrath. Roger recognized his location and knew that as he reached the approaching cross street, his journey would end. He battled the howling wind, but saw the street ahead coming closer and closer. Finally, he turned the corner and paused as he saw…it.

Southern General Hospital towered under the torrential rain. Its red cross shined on the top of the building like the North Star for weary travelers.

 Two figures moved through the blinding rain. They were barely recognizable, like scurrying ants lost in a mound of dirt, but their insignificant presence was still distinguishable. It was Roger and Miles moving toward the tremendous structure.

The wandering businessman no longer needed to wander, as the end was in front of him. A wall of rain was the only thing standing between him and his wife, an obstacle he was prepared to overcome. As he crossed the street toward the hospital parking lot, a sudden sound overtook the rain. It was the sound of an approaching siren. As his ears filled with the impending force, he realized it was not the noise made by only one siren, but by an army of them. The noise intensified and surfaced in front of him as well.

“Hey! Wait up!” Miles yelled at his accomplice, who was surging ahead. All at once, Miles’ eyes filled with the sight of red and blue lights spinning from all directions. He watched as Roger did not flinch.

The enraged police cars spun into the parking lot from all entrances, encroaching on the two men. Roger plowed through an ankle-high puddle of water as he saw the hospital’s entryway emerge thirty yards away.

Roger’s heart pounded inside his chest. His lungs gasped for oxygen as he pushed himself to the limit. His mind was solely focused on his wife, the woman unjustly torn from him. Three police cars squealed to a stop behind Roger, but it didn’t matter; the last thing he was going to do was look back. Infuriated officers burst from each car armed with nine-millimeters and arteries full of adrenaline.

“Stop!” yelled one officer, wielding his weapon.

“Freeze! I said freeze!” screamed an irate female officer.

The officers eyed Roger’s body through the rain as they covered him from all angles with their water-resistant weapons. Roger, however, did not recoil. He saw the bright lights of the hospital interior only a few more steps away. It looked pure, safe, almost heavenly. Suddenly, two figures emerged through the automated door. They stole the luster from Roger’s view. At first, he thought they were benign, but the glistening object pinned on the skinny one’s chest hurt Roger’s eyes. It was the badge of the city police department. The two patrolmen dispatched to guard Lois headed his way.

Roger kept moving, but he watched as both men wielded their pistols. In an instant, his mind instinctively instructed his body to cease its drive, to kill its raging motor. As he stopped dead ten feet from the entryway, he realized he had nowhere to turn. His stationary motion caused the rain to change from horizontal to vertical as it covered his body. Roger remained perfectly still, but his eyes took in the reflection on the entryway’s glass. He saw the army of police surrounding him. Roger was terrified to turn around, wishing desperately to make the last several steps to see the love of his life. He wished there were an easy way to explain his predicament and his daunting journey, but there were no words to explain it.

“Now turn around, slowly!” instructed an officer with his hand resting on his gun’s trigger.

An odd silence filled the area as the sound of the rain resonated. A crowd gathered. Without warning, bystanders screamed.

 “Hey! Let him go!” Miles exclaimed as he attempted to stick up for his fellow comrade.

“Down! Get down on the ground!” an officer commanded.

Miles wavered and dropped to the ground. He tried his best to help, but his best was worthless.

Roger stood all alone, isolated in his own world. He slowly turned to face his accusers as he witnessed the army following him.

“This is wrong. This is all wrong,” Roger reasoned.

“Stay there!” the officer instructed.

Roger closed his eyes. He removed himself from the cancer and focused on the circle of light in the darkness. He was so close. He wanted to take the last few steps; he needed to. Roger opened his eyes to confront the army, but something that he could never have expected surrounded him. The enraged officers all stood motionless, regressed from pit bulls to beagles. Their guns were lowered; their boisterous voices were silent; their faces were blank like puppets. Roger spun around as everyone simply stopped and stared. Even Miles stood stone-faced. The only movement was the revolving red and blue lights through the pounding rain. It was as if everyone had realized Roger’s journey, his journey into the darkness, and now they would stand in front of him no more.

Roger walked past the dozen blank officers. He stepped past the two patrolmen at the hospital door, and then entered the castle. Stillness consumed Roger. Nurses stopped and stared. A janitor watched while holding his mop. And even patients still in their gurneys sat up and stared as if Roger were a saint.

The businessman’s shoes sloshed on the tile as he moved toward the elevator. He neared the reflecting metal doors, and then a ding sounded. The elevator opened as if it too were waiting for Roger. He stepped inside as the lift brought him to the fifth floor, all without Roger doing anything.

The doors opened. Roger stepped out as a deserted floor greeted him. He saw the lights illuminated down only one of the three hallways. Roger followed the lit path. He passed closed doors on each side and continued through the light. Roger turned the corner, and stopped as he saw the trail leading to the only open room. Even though he had no map, he knew exactly who was inside. Roger staggered down the hall, each step wider and stronger. He sensed the presence of the woman he craved, the woman he loved more than anything. Roger’s breathing shuddered. Tears filled his eyes. Each step brought him even more emotion. And then, he stood in the doorway.