--Prolouge
It
was raining – a harsh summer rain. The small drops fell from
swirling clouds,
battering the cement parking lot, and turning the brick of the
hospital a bleak clay red.
Deep puddles sprayed out as ambulances rushed by; a continuous
rotation of sirens and
lights...
...The red and blue
reflected like watercolor paint on the emergency room doors,
broken every few minutes as another stretcher was rushed through.
Already under
funded, the east side staff were barely coping with a stormy Saturday
night. Doctor's
were heard shouting over the noise, and nurses passed by constantly,
on their way from
one assignment to the next...
...The front doors opened with a slam and paramedics moved forward
with another
stretcher. Their shoes squeaked on the floor and the patient fought
against the hands
restraining him. They moved into the emergency ward, calling in vain
for help that didn't
exist...passing by a large man arguing with a head nurse...
...The Man's voice rose above the noise
around him. "I already told you what
happened - He was mugged! What else do you want? Your job is to help
him, so help
him!"
"We're
trying to sir-" the nurse had to quickly step aside as doctor
moved between
them, "Please, just calm
down"
"You have got to be kidding. My friend
is back there bleeding to death and you want me to calm down?"
"Sir please, the doctor's are working on
him-"
He gave an impatient gesture, but before he could respond the
doors thumped
open and another stretcher was rushed in, nearly hitting him. He
stepped out of its path,
and then caught his balance before slipping on the wet floor
The nurse stepped forward, catching his arm.
"Why don't you go and wait in the
waiting room. It's just over here – "
The man jerked his arm out of her grasp,
"I know where it is damnit." He turned his
back on her and stalked off to the room.
Marching in, he grabbed a book from the
coffee table and hurled it against the wall. Its
spin snapped as it hit – the other waiters jumped at the noise. The
man moved forward
and dropped onto a couch. He let his head fall backwards, and closed
his eyes. The
nearest waiter took a step away from him, and a mother on the other
side of the room
pulled her child closer. Anxiously, she glanced at the clock. Mark sat
squarely in the
middle of the bench – an impressive form of six foot six, with hard
muscles showing
through a tight fitting t-shirt. Midnight black hair curled down to
his shoulders and a thin
go-tee lined a strong jaw. The man who took a step away now started to
inch back
towards the book. At the sound of his footsteps, Mark's eyes snapped
open. He saw the
man and leveled him with a glare. The man instantly stopped his
advance and stumbled
backwards. Ignoring him, Mark closed his eyes, oblivious to the
reaction he just caused.
There was silence and then a moment later
footsteps again as a worn nurse
approached. "Sir?"
Mark's eyes opened. He saw the nurse and
slowly sat up, like a Rottwieler
approaching stiff-legged as he decided whether to attack or not.
"What now? I told you
what happened."
The nurse took an unconscious step backwards,
"Its about insurance sir...he doesn't
have any."
"That's what you want to know? That is
what you want to know? A seventeen year old
kid is back there dieing and you're worried about money?"
"I-I'm sorry, it's procedure-
"Yeah? Well hell to your
procedure!" His muscles tightened and his eyes became
harder, "I'll pay for it, all right? Cash, credit, cheque –
whatever you want."
"Sir-"
"Didn't you hear me? I said I'd pay for
it! You just be sure he lives."
Paling, the nurse took another step
backwards, "We're doing the best we can."
With a frustrated sigh, the man
dropped his head back against the couch and closed his
eyes. He took a few heavy breaths and then looked back at the nurse.
His voice was tight,
but controlled, "Is there any coffee in this place?"
"Outside the door-"
He abruptly stood and brushed by her.
Going to the small cart outside, he
filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee. Glancing at the
flashing lights of an incoming ambulance, he took a sip...and
grimaced. Coughing on it,
he shook his head with disgust...of all the places that should have a
good cup of coffee,
it'd be a hospital emergency room. Carrying the coffee, he went back
to the waiting room
and leaned his bulk against the doorframe. From there, he watched the
sliding glass
entrance.
A moment later the doors slid open and a
police officer came in. Mark became alert.
The officer hesitated in the entranceway, slowly surveying the
surroundings. His uniform
stretched tight over a wide stomach and a gun rested by his side. The
officer's eyes
moved in Mark's direction and their gazes locked. Mark tensed,
tightening his grip on the
coffee. He waited where he was – not flinching and not looking away.
The officer
frowned just slightly, then broke the lock and moved onto a different
part of the hospital.
Mark watched him leave and relaxed his rigid posture. He turned away
from the front
doors and went back into the waiting room.
A man sitting on the couch saw him, and with
a startled jump, went to the other side
of the room. Barely noticing, Mark reclaimed his seat on the couch –
leaving the coffee
forgotten on the table in front. Taking up a black remote, he leaned
back and clicked on a
TV. He flipped channels until landing on a breaking newscast –
a shootout on the east
side docks. Alert again, he leaned forward to catch every word. The
intensity of his
concentration made his chiseled features even more prominent. The
static on the screen
faded out the reporter's features, but her voice managed to break
through.
"Earlier this evening the East Side
docks were turned into a scene from an action
thriller as a shootout occurred between drug smugglers and Bay area
police. The officers
have been tracking this group for some time and its said to be one of
the biggest busts of
the decade...wait...what was that Peter? Yes, okay...it is now being
reported that three of
the smugglers have been captured while one was wounded in escape...are
we...yes? Okay,
we are now going to our roving reporter Ben who is with the chief of
police. Ben."
The coverage switched to a rainy dock
somewhere on the east side of the city. The
ocean lay in the back ground, dull and gray, and a light fog rolled
between abandoned
warehouses. An aging officer huddled under a black parka as rain
danced around him and
the young reporter beside him. The reporter asked the usual questions,
and then started to
ask about the one smuggler who was shot. Mark tensed and snapped the
TV to black. He
tossed the remote onto the table and dropped his head back against the
couch. He sat
there with his eyes closed, breathing heavily – his thoughts far
from the small room
A moment later the nurse re-entered.
"Sir?"
Mark didn't open his eyes. "I told you –
I'll pay for it; whatever you want."
"No its not that. I just came to inform
you that the doctors are finished –"
"And?"
"And he made it through the operation.
We won't know how he's going to recover for
a few days yet. Right now he's listed as serious but stable...we won't
know anything else
until he wakes up."
Mark nodded slowly, taking it all in. Finally
he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Can I see
him?"
"Yes. Just follow me." She
turned back into the hospital. Mark stood and followed
her. She led him to a recovery room and then discreetly left, closing
the door.
Mark walked into the room and stopped
by the bed in the middle. Wolf lay in it, an
oxygen mask covering his mouth, hissing as it dished out each breath.
The room was
dark, lighted only by the glow of a streetlamp in the parking lot
outside. Mark didn't
bother turning on the light. He stood over the small form, looking
down at it with no
emotion showing on his face. With a sudden sigh, his shoulders slumped
and for an
instance he looked ten years older than his 37 years. He stood
straight again, and turned
away, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Outside the
hospital a Taxi pulled up and stopped in front of the emergency ward.
The
door opened and AL climbed out. She walked
towards the doors...
