Inside Lucifer's War (23 page)

I nod.

She comes around me and takes the water from the nightstand. She puts her left hand under my head and lifts it. I can smell her perfume. She smells nice, as if she’s just stepped out of the shower. It is a mild, sweet smell. She places the cup to my lips and I sip some more. A little water pours out the side of my mouth, and she wipes it away with a napkin.

“Do you need anything else?” she asks.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I mumble.

“You rest now. When you have your strength back, the doctor will tell you everything. The important thing is that you focus on getting better.” With that, she smiles and leaves the room.

She is right. Soon I feel no pain and, just as quickly, I fall asleep.

I’m not sure how long I sleep, but it seems like a while. The room is darker than before, but I can see some light coming through the curtain. I blink a few times and then look around the room. Nothing has changed. I was hoping to see someone, but there is no one here.

I hear the door open and a different nurse walks in. This one is younger than Mary. She is thinner, more athletic. A sandy blonde, she wears stylish librarian glasses. “Good morning, Thomas. It’s nice to see you awake. My name is Sabrina, and I’ll be your nurse this morning. You’ve been in and out for several days since the accident. You’re quite the fighter. I hope you have more of that spirit for the rehab work ahead. We’re going to get you moving today.”

She has a scratchy voice. “I paged the doctor, and he’ll be here shortly. Here, let’s prop you up.” She presses a button, and my bed begins to adjust. The upper half raises, and where my butt rests, the bed seems to adjust lower and back. She reaches under my back and lifts up my torso, which causes some discomfort to my left side.

I pull my top sheet down and lift up my gown. I see the bandages. I press on the bandage and feel a sharp pain that stretches through my back. She pulls my gown back down and pulls the sheet up. I strain to remember why I have a bandage on the side of my abdomen and why I’ve been in and out of consciousness for several days. She gives me a glass of water and tells me that she’ll be back shortly with the doctor.

A few minutes pass before Dr. Gunthry and Sabrina return. “Good morning, Thomas.” Dr. Gunthry says. “You’re looking very well.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I reply cautiously.

“I think it’s time we get you moving and into some rehab work,” he says.

“Sabrina mentioned something along those lines,” I say without enthusiasm.

“Sabrina, would you mind leaving us?” he asks as he pulls the chair up next to me and sits down.

“Thomas, how much do you remember?” he asks.

“Not much. I was leaving my apartment building when something happened,” I say, trying to picture the day.

“There was a shooting,” he says. “Do you remember the shooting?”

“Yes, that’s right! Somebody fired a gun in the lobby,” I say as the memory begins to rush back. Then reality sets in. “Oh, my God. There was a shooting! Josephine! What happened?”

He puts his hand around my forearm and stands up, leaning over me. “I need for you to be calm. I can fill in many of the blanks for you, but I need for you to calm down. I need to make sure you can handle this. It’s hard, especially when there has been a traumatic accident like this.”

I lean back into my bed. “I’m calm,” I say. The truth is I’m anything but calm. However, I need to know what happened, so I pretend as best I can to be calm. The truth is I’m riddled with anxiety and fear.

“The police can explain more, but I’ve told them not to talk with you until I think you have the strength. You were shot in the lower left abdomen. He lifts my gown and shows me the bandage I previously discovered. The bullet went through you, which in this case, was a good thing. You lost a lot of blood, though. By the time the paramedics got to you, they thought you were going to die. In fact, they said they lost you for a moment. You were immediately brought here and taken into surgery. Your heart has gone through an enormous strain, so we induced a medical coma. After a day, we raised your body temperature, and you fought back. Here we are now.”

“I don’t care about me,” I yell, grabbing Dr. Gunthry by the arm. “What happened to my friends? Stacie? Mike? Please tell me they are okay! This is all my fault!”

Sabrina bursts into the room with a male nurse. They ease me off Dr. Gunthry. He makes eye contact with Sabrina, and she gives me an injection in my arm.

“What are you doing?” I scream.

“I’m sorry, Thomas. But I can’t have you getting excited,” Dr. Gunthry says as my eyelids get heavy and I slowly lose consciousness.

The shot they gave me must have been powerful, because it is after noon when I finally wake up. I can feel some of my strength returning. Sabrina enters the room. “Feeling better?” she asks.

“If I answer no, are you going to give me another shot?” I ask.

“Sorry. Doctor’s orders,” she says.

Calmly I say, “I need to know what happened that morning. I need to know about my friends. Please. Can you tell me?”

“I really wish I could,” she answers. “Let me get Dr. Gunthry. I think he is still at the hospital.”

I am left alone to my thoughts. Thoughts that I wish were different. Stacie’s screams pierce my mind. I try to remember her face that day I had barbeque at Mike’s house, but all I can picture is her face filled with terror that morning. My grip on the sheet tightens, causing it to curl into a ball in my fist. I relax it when I see Dr. Gunthry enter.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Fields. Can I approach you, or should I stay over by the door?” he asks.

“I think you’re safe,” I tell him. “I need to know what happened to my friends.”

“If you think you’re strong enough, I can have the police come talk with you. It’s protocol that they go over the events with you first. And when I ask if you’re strong enough, what I specifically mean is, can you remain calm?” he asks.

“I can,” I reply. “I have to talk with them.”

“Okay. I’ll let them know,” he says, leaving the room. I hear him talking to what I can only assume is a security detail outside my room.

It takes longer than I expect, but a man knocks on my door later in the afternoon. “Dr. Fields, may I come in?” he asks.

“Please,” I respond.

The midforties man has dark blond hair that is turning gray, especially along the sideburns. Even in a dress shirt, slacks, and tie, you can tell he is fit. He has a relaxed demeanor as he enters the room and introduces himself. “My name is Jason Smith, I’m a detective with the Austin Police Department,” he says, showing me his badge.

“You have to tell me what happened,” I immediately say. “The doctor. The nurses. They won’t tell me anything. I need to know what happened to my friends.”

Remaining relaxed, the detective responds, “I know you want answers, but I need to get some answers from you first.”

Agitated, I yell, “Why can’t any of you people give me an answer!”

With a more terse tone he says, “Dr. Fields, I want to help you, but I need for you to help us both by remaining calm. There’s only one way this is going to go, and that’s my getting some answers from you first. Are you good with that?”

“Fine,” I say.

“Mike and Stacie visited you that morning. Did you have any other visitors?” he asks.

“No. Only Josephine, who obviously wasn’t a guest,” I respond.

With that answer, Detective Smith goes deep into questioning me about my relationship with Josephine and our circle of friends and acquaintances. It’s more exhausting than I anticipated. I can tell he’s validating facts, as he flips through a notebook full of documents and written notes. I can tell he’s done his homework, though none of the questions surprise me until he asks me about Thursday night. “You missed your meeting with her Thursday night. Why?”

“Thursday night?” I ask.

“Leslie Donovan told me you were supposed to meet Josephine and her counselor that evening. Where were you?” he questions.

Thursday evening rushes back to me. The trip to the Fischers. The demon encounter. The missed appointment. If I had just made that appointment, none of this would have happened, I tell myself.

“I screwed up,” I say. “I went to say good-bye to the Fischers instead of meeting with Josephine and her counselor. I completely forgot about our meeting.”

“Ah, yes, you are taking a new job with a charity . . . let’s see, I have the name of it right here,” he begins.

“First Orchard,” I respond.

“That’s it. Never heard of them, but there doesn’t seem to be any connection here. One more question,” he says. “If you said good-bye to the Fischers on Thursday, why were they at your house on Saturday?”

I don’t immediately answer. Instead I stare off into space. Finally I look up slowly at the detective and answer, “I had a revelation from God that I wanted to share with them. I know, it must sound ridiculous.”

“I’ve heard stranger,” he responds. “I appreciate your answering those questions. I know this has been hard for you. What I have to tell you may be harder.”

“Please. I need to know,” I say.

“Josephine fired three shots that morning. The first two we believe were intended for you, and the last one was intended for herself. The first bullet hit you in the side. That’s the wound you have. The second bullet hit Mike, and the third bullet ended Josephine’s own life,” he says.

“Mike! What happened to Mike? I remember now, I felt a shove. He must have pushed me out of the way. Please tell me he’s fine,” I beg, but I know that’s not the case.

“I wish I could, Dr. Fields,” he says. “When Mike pushed you out of the way, that left him in direct line of the next shot. It hit him in the heart. I doubt he felt anything.”

My heart sinks in my chest. He may not have felt anything, but his family will most certainly feel the pain, I think to myself.

Almost too afraid, I ask, “What about Stacie?”

“Stacie is fine. She’s obviously really shaken up over all this, but she wasn’t injured in the shooting. According to our security detail, she’s visited you a few times,” he tells me.

I’m relieved to hear about Stacie, but my heart aches for Mike.

“I’m going to pull the security detail now. I don’t think you are in any more danger. Do you have any reason for me to think otherwise?” he asks.

“No,” I simply say.

“That twenty-five thousand dollars in your pocket that morning is nothing I should know about, now is it?” he asks as he opens the door to leave.

“No,” I respond.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Dr. Fields,” he says as he exits.

Sabrina immediately enters the room. “I’m so very sorry for everything you’ve been through and for the death of your friend,” she tells me. “I wanted to tell you, but they told us we couldn’t say anything until the police spoke with you. Can I get you anything?”

I can’t say anything. It’s as if I am at a different place, listening, no, watching a story unfold around me. It’s someone else’s life I’m seeing. I can’t grasp that any of this is happening to me. I can’t believe Mike died because of me. Mike, my best and only friend. Mike, the one who always cared about me. Mike, the one who took a bullet meant for me—a bullet due to my cruel behavior toward a woman. A bullet shot by a demon. Why had I dragged Stacie and Mike into this? Oh, Therese! Poor Therese and her two sons! How can I ever face them again? How can I face Stacie again? Why hadn’t I done what Lucifer told me?

I roll over and stare toward the window. “Can you please open the curtains?” I ask.

Sabrina opens them. I stare at the window and run the horrible scene through my mind. I have brought a curse to their family. I should be dead. I was a coward. I feel tears streaming down my face. They run slowly over my lips, and I taste their salt.

“Can you leave me for a moment?” I ask. “I’d like to be alone.”

“Sure. Here’s an emergency button,” she says, placing a remote control in my hand. “If you need anything, press the button and we’ll be here immediately.”

I wonder if the button can take me back in time. But I don’t say a word. I just stare blankly out the window. I think about my run around the lake and the words I thought I had heard. How could God let this happen? All of my doubts seem to flood back to me.

Then Mike’s last words suddenly fill my mind:
Submit yourself to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

C
HAPTER 22

Visitors

The rest of the day I am the embodiment of a person who has no spirit. I do what the nurses tell me to do, but I am numb to the world. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I have no control over anything. I am helpless. I have no answers. My heart is empty, poured out and empty. Lucifer or the Principal or both now control my every waking moment.

I go to sleep early, telling the nurses to tell the physical therapist I will need to start tomorrow. I’m not ready to heal.

Before I fall asleep, a nurse mentions that a few people have come by to see me. A woman and a couple of men. “Dr. Gunthry and the police weren’t allowing visitors, though,” she says. “I’m pretty sure, though, he will allow it now, if you want me to ask him.”