Watching, Waiting

Bob helped Ray back to his room, offering a sympathetic smile as the guitarist discovered he was not as well as he had previously imagined.

“I’m just tired,” Ray reassured him.
Bob nodded and smiled again as he poured Ray a glass of water, handing it to him as he settled himself back in the bed. “You and Gee need to get some rest. Accept your limitations.”
“What about you?” asked Ray tiredly.
“I have no limitations,” Bob grinned broadly. “I’m perfect.”
“And you’re modest with it, too!”
“I actually am,” Bob agreed with a smile. “Now, I think you should get some sleep.”
“Okay,” Ray agreed, placing the empty glass back on the cabinet. “On one condition.”
“Are you kidding, Toro?” Bob shrugged.
“What?” Ray replied, puzzled by the strange reply.
“You want me to wake you if we hear anything, yes?”
Ray nodded.
“Did you really think you needed to ask?” Bob clarified.
Ray shook his head and smiled.
“Let me close the blinds,” Bob nodded as the room darkened. “Now get some sleep, we’ll hear something soon, I’m sure.”

*

Finally free of the confines of the cellar, Mikey followed his still distraught friend outside, resuming the reassuring hug as they waited for Silburn. But only moments later, Mikey grimaced and stooped slightly forcing him to let go of Frank.

“Mikey?” Frank turned to him. “Is it your side?”
The young man nodded as he lowered himself onto one knee to lessen the pain of supporting himself.
“What’s wrong?” Silburn asked concerned as all the colour drained from Mikey’s face.
“He kept kicking him,” Frank explained quickly as he dropped to his friend’s side. “But this is the first time he’s got up since. It was hours before he could even untie his ankles.”
Mikey leaned forward, resting on his hands as Silburn radioed for an ambulance.
“Get him a chair or something!” Silburn shouted to one of the accompanying officers.
Mikey closed his eyes tightly as another wave of pain washed over him, threatening to engulf him utterly. His stomach tightened and convulsed driving him into an uncontrollable coughing fit. Dark blood forced its way into his mouth, choking him. Spitting and retching, tears welled in his eyes as the pain increased weakening him with each second. Wiping the thick, almost black blood from his mouth, Mikey, now unable to hold himself, fell to the side into Frank’s arms as he kneeled at his side trying to comfort him.

“Help him!” Frank yelled, trembling with shock and fear as he held the barely conscious bassist.

Small, barely audible sounds of fear and pain emanated from Mikey, as he lay slumped in Frank’s arms. Unaware of the activity around him, he was only vaguely aware of Frank’s voice pleading with him to hold on.

“Where’s the ambulance?” Frank stared up at Silburn, his eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and blame.

Having asked for an estimated time of arrival, Silburn waited for a reply as he stared down at Mikey’s partially closed eyes, pale complexion and the thick blood oozing over his lips once more.

“Where?” Frank repeated helplessly almost in tears as he felt Mikey go limp.
“Two minutes,” he replied immediately on receiving the news. “I have some first aid,” he said dropping to his knee in front of the two musicians. “Let me see him.”

Frank held him tighter as Silburn tried to examine Mikey.

“Get off him!” Frank shouted angrily. “Since when did you get into helping? If you’d have fucking believed me when I first came to you, he’d be okay now!”

Having dismissed the guitarist’s claims of receiving death threats as a sick joke on him and of no real concern, Silburn deserved the berating. But the man was potentially dying and there was no time to argue with his overprotective friend. Signalling to the two officers, Silburn gently cradled Mikey and laid him on his right side with his rolled up jacket under his head as the two police officers pulled Frank away.

“No! Let go of me!” Frank shouted, struggling in their grip as they dragged him to the chair brought out originally for Mikey. Forced to sit, Frank’s wide, unblinking eyes never moved from his now unconscious friend as Silburn examined him.

Lifting his shirt, Silburn’s eyes displayed his surprise as he saw the massive bruising down Mikey’s left side and, although he couldn’t see the extent of it, he knew it extended to his back. Silburn looked up in relief as the ambulance rounded the corner and pulled up sharply in the driveway. Quickly briefing the paramedics on Mikey’s condition and his suspicions of internal damage, Silburn approached Frank who was now standing, torn by conflicting emotions and on the verge of breaking down.

“Are you okay?” Silburn asked. “I mean physically.”
Frank merely stared in reply. Overwhelmed by uncertainty and worry, he seemed unable to answer.”
“Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital,” the detective continued.
“I want to go with Mikey,” he insisted.
Turning, Silburn nodded to the paramedics; they were ready to leave.
“Okay,” he turned back to Frank. “I’ll meet you there. And… I’m sorry this happened.”

Frank closed his eyes briefly, too angry to reply. He could only shake his head in disgust before heading to the ambulance, arriving just as the gurney was being secured inside.

“Can I go with him?” He asked, shocked as he glanced at the apparatus attached to his friend.
“Sure,” one of the paramedics called, helping him inside before closing the door.
“Will he be okay?” Frank asked as the vehicle headed out into the road, sirens blaring.
The paramedic smiled sympathetically.
“Let’s get him to a doctor.”
Frank sat in silence; terrified by the statement that he knew meant ‘I don’t know’.

*

Eddie sat in the waiting room, lost in thought.

“Hey, Eddie,” Bob called as he entered the room. “Don’t worry, they’ll be okay.”

The tour manager glanced up, his expression showed he wanted to say something, but was uncertain how to broach the subject. The cell phone still in his hand gave away more than he realised.

“Mikey and Frank?” Bob asked hesitantly.
Eddie nodded. “They… Frank’s okay, he’s coming in now.”
“Mikey?” Bob asked with urgency in his tone.
“He’s in a bad way, they’re prepping an operating room now.”
“What happened to him?”
Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know. Silburn called, he just said that Mikey collapsed shortly after they found him; a nurse told me the rest.”
Bob flopped down on the sofa next to Eddie, stunned by the news.
“They’re coming in now?”
“Yeah.”
“And Frank’s okay?”
“Apparently.”
Bob sat forward, resting his forehead in his hands. “Mikey’ll be okay, he has to be.”
Patting Bob’s back gently, Eddie sighed. “We’ll know more soon.”

Only a few minutes later, a nurse entered the room and both Bob and Eddie looked up expectantly.

“The ambulance has arrived, they had to take Mister Way straight down to the O.R. but Mister Iero is with a doctor now, you should be able to see him soon.”
“How is he?” asked Bob.
The nurse offered a sympathetic smile. “The doctor will tell you more, but physically, he seems fine. Obviously he’s very upset and shaken. I’ll let you know when you can see him.”
“Thanks,” Bob replied quietly.

*

“I’m fine!” Frank insisted again. “Stop fussing over me and take care of Mikey!”

The doctor sat back and frowned.

“Mister Iero, there is, in fact, more than one doctor in this hospital and there are currently several of them taking very good care of your friend.”

Frank paled.

“Several? Is it that bad?”
The doctor pursed his lips. “He’s got some internal bleeding. From what I understand, the fact that he didn’t stand up for several hours after the beating delayed the tearing of the blood vessels.”
“You mean being chained up saved his life?”
“Possibly.”
“Tell me you mean ‘possibly’ as in he… you can… he’ll be…” Frank couldn’t say the words, no matter how hard he tried.
“We’ll know more in a couple of hours,” the doctor replied carefully. “Once he’s out of the O.R., he’ll be taken to the Critical Care Unit and then it’s just waiting.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Frank asked, his head swimming. “Blood! You can have as much of my blood as you need!”
The doctor nodded and smiled. “We have plenty and you need what you have at the moment. Now, I guess you’ll want to visit Mister Toro and the other Mister Way? There are two others here waiting too, I’m afraid I don’t know…”
“Visit?” Frank’s eyes widened. “They’re here? I mean admitted? I was told they were fine!”
“Ah,” the doctor paused. “Well don’t worry, they will be fine, they’re recovering nicely. Mister Toro received a blow to the head; he’s just in for observation. What were you told about the guy who took you?”
“We were told he’s dead; he crashed his car. That’s not true?”
“It is true, he died jumping from the car, but he left Mister Way trapped inside. He’s hurt, but like I said, he’s recovering just fine.”

Frank’s shoulders sagged.

“Please tell me Bob’s alright.”
“Bob?”
“Our drummer, tall, blond, got a beard.”
The doctor smiled and nodded. “He’s in the waiting room with another man, I’ll take you to them.”

*

Two hours slipped by agonisingly slowly and even then there was still no word from the surgeons. The room was silent and tense. Occasionally one man would look to another and receive a reassuring nod or smile, but there was little else they could really do.

“I feel bad not visiting Gee,” Frank finally broke the silence. “But if he sees me, he’ll want to know about Mikey.”
Bob nodded. “I know, we should wait, there’s no point worrying him over nothing.”
“It’s hardly nothing.” Frank grumbled.
“You know I didn’t mean that,” Bob sighed, too exhausted to even bother arguing.
“Yeah, I know, I’m just really stressed. And before you say, I know you are too, but with me, it can make me a little hypersensitive.”
“Frankie, everything about you is hyper-something,” replied Bob, offering a kind smile.
Frank returned the smile. “I guess.”
As one the three men rose quickly to their feet as a surgeon entered the waiting room. Staring expectantly, all three held the words they wanted to say until finally, Frank posed the question.
“Mikey? Is he… okay?”
The surgeon nodded and smiled faintly. “He’s stable, but he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s very weak, but he’s a fighter. We’ve moved him to the Critical Care Unit, but don’t be worried by the name, or by how he looks when you see him. He’s connected up to a lot of machines and blood and saline drips, but trust me, it looks worse than it is. He’s going to be just fine.”

The relief that washed over the three men was immeasurable.

“When can we see him?” asked Frank immediately.
“You can see him now, one at a time for five minutes only, but he won’t be aware, he’s only just woken up from the procedure.”
“That’s okay!” Bob decided for all of them. “We just want to see him, with our own eyes, you know?”
The surgeon nodded. “Of course, follow me.”

*

“Mikey?”

Frank’s voice was barely audible but was enough to get the young bassist’s attention. Opening his eyes half way, Mikey offered a faint smile as he saw his friend.

“I’m sorry, Mikey. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this.”

Too weak to speak, Mikey raised a finger, then another. Frank clutched at his hand, his eyes misting.

“You’ll be fine, the doctor said so,” he said encouragingly. “So you just rest and do everything they tell you. You’ll be well in no time.”

Mikey smiled again.

“Anyway, I gotta go, we can only stay a couple of minutes and Bob wants to see you too.”
Mikey closed his eyes briefly; his only other way to acknowledge Frank’s statement.
“You’ll be fine soon,” Frank squeezed Mikey’s hand before stepping away from the bed and heading out of the ward.
“How is he?” Bob asked, as Frank appeared looking drained.
Frank inhaled deeply. “He’s okay, I think. He’s too weak to talk, or anything for that matter. He can move his eyes and smile a little, I took that as a good sign.”

Bob nodded and patted Frank’s shoulder before heading into the ward.
Mikey greeted him with the same weak smile and Bob returned with a broad grin.

“Come on you malingerer! I know you’re only here because you’re lazy!”

Mikey’s smile widened as he tried not to laugh.

“You rest up, Mikes, we’re all okay and so will you be too, you just need a little time.”
Mikey tried to say something, but it was inaudible; the fact that Bob was unable to understand seemed only to upset him more.
“Mikey, everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

He wouldn’t give up and tried again and again, growing more and more agitated with each attempt. Bob lowered his ear next to Mikey’s mouth and finally caught the faint whisper.

“Gee?” Bob nodded, annoyed with himself that he had not realised what his friend would be asking. “He got a little hurt, but he’s okay, really. He’s just here for observation.”
It was only a small lie, the rest was true and it was important that Mikey didn’t worry.
“I better go, let you rest. We won’t go far though, so don’t worry.”

Mikey offered the best smile he could muster, but it was clear even these small exertions had taken their toll on him.

*

Over the next few days, things started to pick up dramatically. Ray was the first to be released from the hospital’s care. Then only a few days later, much to everyone’s relief, Mikey was moved from the C.C.U. into a private room. Still weak and attached to drips, but he was getting stronger with each passing day. A few days later, Gerard was released. It would be a few weeks yet for his ribs to fully heal, but he was more than ready to leave the hospital. They all, of course, remained a regular sight around the hospital, taking it in turns to stay to be with Mikey. It wasn’t necessary from a concern point of view any more; it was more then clear that Mikey was making a quick and complete recovery, but they wanted to be on hand for him, someone there, all the time.

By the end of two weeks, Mikey too had been discharged. Leaving the hospital in a wheelchair with instructions to rest for a minimum of two more weeks. Follow up appointment cards were thrust into his hands with more instructions on how to take care of himself and what to do if he needed assistance or had any doubts or concerns about his recovery. And, his heart sank, absolutely no bass playing for two weeks, minimum.

“Great!” he grumbled.
“Come on, Mikes!” Gerard leaned over the chair, then regretted it as he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Straightening up, he paused before continuing. “We can write some new songs instead.”
“Oh yeah,” Ray laughed as he nudged Gerard away from the chair. “I’ll push, you can’t even bend, you certainly can’t do this! And somehow, neither I can see you hunched over a guitar.”
“No, maybe you’re right?” Gerard nodded. “So we’ll sing it to you and you can work out the chords.”

Bob chuckled; Ray had really walked into that one.

“Come on,” Frank cut in. “Let’s get Mikey home, and we can really start to put all this behind us.”
“Yeah,” Bob agreed. “Let’s roll.”

Mikey sighed at the terrible pun as they headed for the exit, all more than happy to leave a terrifying chapter in their lives behind them.


THE END

Notes