Coyotes Weep – The Night Series
Part 7
Mid-Night Hour
This one is for Judy. It was supposed to be an early Christmas present. I started it on the 18th so I should have had plenty of time. I finished the bottom half of the story first and then got stuck trying to write the beginning, so now it's a late Christmas present.
Um, if you haven't figured it out yet by the other parts… there's lots of angst here. Just so you don't throw things at me, there is going to be at least one more story in this series. I've already started it. Wonder what's going to happen in that one? No really. I don't have a clue yet. Personally, I'm hoping for a happy ending.
Oh yeah, one last thing… regarding the email I sent asking for help figuring out who was who…the vote is tied. Half of you said it was Jim and the other half said it was Blair. No wonder I'm confused. Y'all were no help at all. <G> So this is what you get.
~~~~~~
Jim and Blair entered the loft with a sigh of relief. They were happy they'd finally nailed the bad guy and a brutal six week long case had finally come to an end. The two men were looking forward to doing nothing more strenuous than sitting on the couch and watching some T.V.
Each man had a beer in his hand and there was a bowl of popcorn between them. They were kibitzing about who was going to win the Monday night football game which was just getting ready to start. Bliss.
BOOM!
The entire building shook. Welds broke. Nails popped. Seams ripped. The foundation cracked. The building was old, but she'd been well maintained and well loved. Such buildings often developed their own personality, unfortunately, that wasn't enough to overcome the physics of such a massive explosion. The stress was too much and neither good condition nor strength of will was going to keep her together any longer. Walls buckled throughout the structure and huge sections of the first floor gave way. Large chucks of concrete and steel crashed down onto the last of the intact load bearing supports and caused them to bend under the strain. The loss of two more key supports further undermined the stability of the remaining structure. It was only a matter of time before the entire building came down.
At the same time on the third level, a section of the floor under one side of the couch gave way. The two men were stunned when the couch slid sideways and fell down into the gaping hole. They landed on the second floor hard enough to jar Blair halfway off the couch. Jim lunged toward his partner in desperation. He grabbed Blair trying to protect him while making sure he was okay. Moments later the second floor gave way and the men were once again being tossed around like rag dolls as they tried to ride the couch like a roller coaster car through the debris surrounding them.
The first floor was just a gaping hole by the time the men on the couch reached it, so rather than being stopped by another jarring impact, they continued to gain momentum. The sofa was caught momentarily on a beam during the plunge down to the basement. The beam held long enough for the couch to get stuck and start to spin sideways. This time Jim almost got tossed off the couch and Blair made the desperate rescue attempt. Two heartbeats later, the men were back together on the relative safety of the couch.
Their descent to the basement floor was even more harrowing
than the previous two drops had been.
The couch spun again then tilted from front to back as it encountered
more and more debris from the first and second floors. Jim and Blair struggled desperately to stay
on the relative safety of the couch.
Seconds felt like hours, minutes stretched into days and then everything
stopped.
The broken lumber and bricks creaked and groaned as they settled onto a more stable pile of rubble. The dust swirled around thickly, blocking out the vision of chaos in what moments before had been an old, but viable building. As the dust started to settle, occasional glimpses of a battered, bloody couch could be seen. Near the couch, and no more than a hand span apart, lay the crumpled bodies of the two men. Off in the distance, the sounds of sirens could be heard.
Cough, cough. "Oh God, Jim! Jim, are you okay?" Blair tried to sit up then stopped, groaning in pain and dismay. Oh shit! I can't move. "JIM!?!"
"Chief," Jim rumbled weakly. He attempted to move toward his friend, but couldn't. "Chief… Blair, are you okay?"
"Jim, I'm… I can't seem to move here," Blair responded, trying to control his panic.
"WHAT! Don't try to move! You could have broken your neck. Stay there. I'll just… shit," Jim cursed his wayward body.
"Jim! What's wrong?" Blair demanded.
"I… I seem to be stuck on something," Jim finally replied.
"What?"
"I can't move right now either. Okay, Blair… this is what we're going to do," the former Army Ranger Captain stated in his most compelling voice. "I can hear sirens heading this way. We're going to stay right here, without moving, and let them come and rescue us. That means no moving, Chief. I mean it."
"I… Okay, Jim," Blair said, his voice subdued. "Jim, how bad are you hurt, really?"
"Not too bad considering the building exploded and we rode a couch down three floors to the basement," Jim said ironically.
"Jim," Blair said sternly, "that's not an answer. Are you unable to move 'cause you're stuck or 'cause you're hurt?"
"I'm…"
"No lies, no evasions, and no obfuscations," Blair demanded.
"I… I'm hurt, Blair," Jim finally replied softly.
Blair tried to shift positions so he could see is partner better.
"Don't move!" Jim demanded, frantic for Blair's safety.
"Oh God. 'Kay, not going to try that again," Blair groaned. "You said you heard sirens. So neither one of us is going to move. We are just going to lie here and wait to be rescued."
"Sounds like a plan."
More boards broke and the pile of rubble shifted again. Another support beam lost the fight and gave way with an ear splitting shriek. The noise from the beam momentarily overshadowed the more dangerous noise coming from above. The roof groaned when the struts lost support and started to fall down in large sections. There was nothing left in the way to stop or even slow the descent as chunks of roof fell down on the unprotected men.
They heard the noise at the last minute and both men lunged for the other. Each man's own health was of secondary concern… the primary focus was the safety of his partner.
Hold on.
Don't leave me.
Silence. The remains of the old building lay broken on the ground, shrouded in relative calm after the explosion and collapse. Bricks settled, metal supports moaned, water pipes hissed. Dust floated down to cover the scene.
An undetermined about of time later, a board, that had somehow managed to land and balance precariously on a beam, fell to the ground. The noise woke him up. Without moving he stared in shocked disbelief at the disaster around him. Suddenly he remembered, he hadn’t been alone. Where? He looked around for his partner. Oh God! Arms and legs protruded from the wreckage at abnormal angles…
It was so hard to believe that the heap of clothing, the body on the ground next to me… is… was… NOOOOOO!
~~~~
NOOOO! I sit up
abruptly sending Piper tumbling out of my hair and onto the bed.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have such a vivid imagination. Get a hold of yourself, Lynn. I suppose finally hearing exactly what happened that night caused the dream. That and last night's support group meeting must have taken more out of me than I realized. Sigh. It just hits so close to home. The gang at Major Crimes is worried about the survivor, with good reason. The first anniversary of the explosion at the loft is coming up next week… and due to some odd quirk of the calendar, it's going to be on a Monday again this year.
That man positively hates Mondays. I don't hate them, but I've certainly had weeks when I approach them with trepidation. The last nine months have been one wild ride… a never ending rollercoaster, with no end in sight. That's not quite true though. I somehow feel the fruits of this labor are going to be born next Monday night.
I know the first anniversary is always the hardest. I almost didn't survive mine. Without the help of my friends and family… and my sister's babies needing me… I might have given up. Okay, technically she's not… um wasn't… my sister. But it sure felt that way. It sure hurt that way. That's why it completely changed my life when she died. I needed help dealing with being the one left behind. I had to deal with it in order to raise her babies. So I changed careers. I've been able to help a lot of people in the years since I became a Grief Support Counselor. I've reminded myself of that a lot in the last nine months. It's been hard. I can't seem to get through to him no matter how much I try.
It wasn't his fault. It's not his fault. I just can't seem to get that concept through his stubborn head. There was nothing else he could have done. The man almost killed himself trying to save his partner. He was in a coma for a month and completely paralyzed for another three months. It has taken almost a full year for him to be able to walk again. He has survivor's guilt bad. I've never seen a worse case. I got to admit it, even if just to myself… I'm worried. Scared even. His friends and I have gotten him this far, but it has been a struggle. He's not actively trying to kill himself, thank God, but he's not enthusiastically trying to keep living either.
The man is just existing. It's almost like he's being pulled in two directions. He wants to go to his partner… so badly that he would be willing to die to get there. But, he feels an overwhelming responsibility not to disappoint the rest of his friends, his remaining family… and so he stays. He said something once during one of our early appointments… something about "… pain can be overwhelming and all consuming. Your soul being pulled from your body. A living corpse forced to survive because everyone tells you, you should."
He still feels that way. Even after all this time. So yes, I can understand why I had that dream. And I know I have good reason to fear the outcome of next Monday's meeting. I can only hope that the pull of his living friends outweighs the pull of his dead partner.
Comments? Questions? Just send me a note. Cheryl