S2W12: “A Labored Breath”

© 2021 Phylicia Joannis

Chase Avery let out a labored breath before opening his eyes. His senses were fuzzy at first, processing his surroundings slowly. The smell of antiseptic. The low lights and soft colors of the walls. The hum of machines. The dryness of his mouth. The dull pain in his abdomen. As he came more fully awake the pain amplified and he cried out.

A nurse heard his moaning and entered the room. Chase winced and licked his lips, but couldn’t muster enough strength to speak. The nurse looked at his chart.

“Hello, Mr. Avery. I’ll let your doctor know that you’re awake and in pain. He’ll explain everything to you, and we’ll get you comfortable as soon as we can, ok?”

Chase nodded slowly. He was in the hospital. Where had he been before? His brain felt sluggish, and he couldn’t quite remember. Chase looked out of the window by his bed. Sunlight peeked through the blinds. What time was it? He needed to call work, let them know he wouldn’t be coming in for a while.

Then he remembered. The subway. The pole sticking out of his abdomen. The girl. She’d gotten out. She must have. Otherwise he’d be dead, not here.

“Mr. Avery.” The doctor entered the room with a smile, followed by a pair of nurses. The nurses began unhooking him from some of the machines. One of them began injecting something into his IV.

“I’m giving you this for the pain, ok?” she explained. Chase nodded.

“Mr. Avery, I’m Dr. Cam. Do you know where you are?” Chase crinkled his brow in reply.

“You’re at Bethune Medical Center. You had severe bleeding from an object that penetrated your abdomen. Does that sound familiar to you?”

Chase again nodded, this time adding a grunt.

“By the time medical personnel got to you, you had lost quite a bit of blood, and your insulin levels were dangerously low. To save your life and prevent further shock, we placed you in a medically induced coma while we operated. The operation was successful, and we were able to replenish your blood supply. We’ve been monitoring you for some time and began the process to wake you last night.” Chase listened to the doctor explain what was going on as the nurses checked his vitals.

“Would you like some water, Mr. Avery?” A nurse offered him a straw, and he gladly took it. “Take small sips, ok?” she warned.

Chase obeyed, a task more challenging than he realized. He coughed several times in between sips, drinking no more than a tablespoon or two.

“That’s enough for now. If you can hold that down, I’ll let you have a little more in a few minutes.”

Chase nodded in appreciation. He was alive. But, what about the others?

***

Chuck listened to the sound of the buzzing door and stood. It was time for the evening meal. He walked out of his cell and down the hall, joined by several other inmates. His bail hearing was coming up soon, and he hadn’t heard anything from Jim, or Simon, in days.

The inmates filed into the mess hall and got their rations. The food was terrible, but what could he expect? At least it was edible, most days anyway. Chuck grabbed a tray and slid it across the bar to be served. He walked over to a table to sit but was blocked by one of the other inmates. A thick-necked fellow with small eyes and big hands.

“You dropped your tray.” The inmate sneered.

“No, I didn’t,” Chuck began, but the inmate smacked his tray down to the floor. Chuck reached down to grab it, realizing too late that it was a trap. The inmate kneed Chuck in his face, sending him sprawling backwards as blood dripped from his nose.

“You should be more careful.” The inmate glared at Chuck, then walked away.

Chuck sat in a daze as his face swelled. He swung his head around, looking around for a guard, but the motion made him dizzy. Chuck’s eyes watered and he swallowed the bile in his throat. His nose was probably broken.

“You should get that checked out,” an inmate called out with a sideways glance.

Chuck stood slowly, pressing the back of his hand against his nose as he continued his search for a guard. He found one standing near the doors and ambled towards him.

“I think I need a doctor,” Chuck rasped.

The guard stared at Chuck and sniffed. “For what?”

“F-for my nose.” Chuck winced. “I think it’s broken, and I’m in a lot of pain. I need to see a doctor or a nurse or something.”

The guard shrugged. “You look fine to me. Go sit down.”

Chuck protested. “I really don’t think I can–”

“Go sit down!” The guard barked, grabbing his sidearm as he sneered at him. Chuck backed away slowly. He found an empty seat and slid into it. His ears and nose pulsed with every breath as the swelling increased. For a moment, he wondered if this was what the technician felt like after waking up in the hospital. A pang of guilt struck his gut and, despite his surroundings, Chuck’s eyes brimmed and flowed with tears. He deserved to be here.