Rez Runaway Page 7

  Oh my God. Sid.

  “Sid!” I rushed toward her, screaming her name as I fell to the ground beside her. She wasn’t moving. I wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Her face was a mess of blood and rising bruises. Her nose looked broken and her mouth was so swollen I barely recognized her. I pushed the bloody hair off of her face and tried desperately to see if her chest was rising. There was so much blood! I undid the top buttons of her shirt and saw a stab wound pumping blood. That freak had stabbed her! I was sobbing as I pulled out my phone again and dialled 911.

  “Please,” I cried to the operator, gently cradling Sid’s head in my lap. “My friend has been stabbed. Please help her,” I begged.

  “Is she breathing?” the operator asked.

  “I don’t know!” I wailed. I heard my voice, howling like a wild animal.

  “Do you know how to check a pulse?” the woman asked, her voice calm.

  “Yes.” I reached down and placed two fingers on Sid’s neck and waited.

  I couldn’t feel anything.

  “I don’t feel . . .” Wait! There it was! “I feel it! It’s kind of weak, I think. But it’s there.”

  “That’s great, sweetheart. Put pressure on the wound. It’ll help with the bleeding. Does she have any other injuries?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been beaten up. I think her nose is broken. I can’t see if she’s been stabbed anywhere else. She’s still unconscious.” Truthfully, I was afraid to look.

  “Okay. The ambulance will be there any minute. Just stay with her and keep pressure on the wound.”

  “I am,” I told her.

  “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

  I could hear the sirens now. “I think the ambulance is coming,” I told the operator.

  “Okay. I’ll stay on the line with you until they get there,” she assured me.

  Within seconds the EMTs were beside me. They took Sid out of my arms and loaded her onto a stretcher.

  “What’s his name?” one of the EMTs called out to me.

  “Her name is Obsidian. Sid. Call her Sid.” They didn’t even bat an eye. I’m sure they’d seen it all by now.

  “Sid? Can you hear me?”

  There was no response. Quickly they started to load her into the ambulance.

  “Can I ride with her?” I asked them desperately.

  “Sure. Just stay out the way,” one of them told me.

  The siren screamed overhead as they worked feverishly on Sid. The ambulance tore across Gerrard toward the hospitals.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked them.

  “We’re doing our best,” one of them said. I was so panicked, I couldn’t understand what it was they were doing to her. They had IVs, electrical leads, syringes, and a bunch of things I couldn’t identify. And none of those things were helping enough for them to be sure that Sid would be okay.

  As soon as we got to the hospital, the EMTs flew out of the ambulance, pulling Sid’s stretcher along with them. As I climbed out awkwardly behind them, I saw several doctors and nurses meet them at the entrance. I followed them through the doors and saw them whisk Sid away. A nurse grabbed my arms as I tried to push my way though the doors.

  “You need to wait here, sweetie.”

  “But she’s my best friend,” I told her, watching the doors close firmly behind Sid.

  “I know. But she’s in good hands. She has to go into surgery. I’m going to get you to fill out some forms. Then I’ll show you where the surgical waiting room is.”

  I stood helplessly, looking after Sid as the nurse tried to lead me away toward her desk.

  “Will she be okay?” I asked her.

  “I hope so, sweetie. I really do. We’ve got some of the best doctors in the world here. If anyone can help your friend, they can.”

  I nodded as I let the nurse lead me away, hoping desperately for a miracle for Sid.

  Chapter 19

  Waiting

  I fell heavily into a chair in the waiting room and called John.

  “John?” My voice shook with emotion when I heard him say hello. Thank God I had bought him that pay-as-you-go phone for emergencies! I tried to continue but couldn’t. All of the fear and horror I felt over seeing Sid after her attack suddenly tied up my tongue. Not knowing how she was doing in surgery — whether she was dead or alive — I couldn’t even think about it.

  “Joe? Is that you, son?”

  I tried to respond — to make a sound. Anything so he’d know I was still there.

  “Son? Is everything okay? Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” I managed to croak out, my throat thick with tears. I swallowed them down and took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m here.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah. But Sid isn’t. I’m at Mount Sinai. They had to take her into surgery and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay,” I managed.

  “What! What happened?” he asked anxiously.

  “Someone attacked her. They beat her really badly, John.” My voice broke again. But somehow I kept breathing and spilled it all out. “She was stabbed. They’re trying to help her but they don’t know if she’s going to make it. Can you come?” Tears dripped down my face as I finished. I couldn’t face the possibility of Sid not making it. She had to be okay! She just had to!

  “Oh my God. Yes. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon, Joe.”

  I hung up feeling slightly better and waited for John.

  * * *

  I spent the next couple of hours waiting. Waiting for news of Sid and waiting for John. I paced the waiting room. I counted the tiles on the ceiling. There were forty-eight. I counted the squares of carpet on the floor and then walked down the length of one row and back up the next. I did that covering the waiting room floor once, then turned and went back the other way. Up one row and down the next. Placing one foot in front of the other, other, heel to toe.

  When I grew tired of that, I sat down in an armchair and drummed my fingers on my knees. I was sharing the room with a couple of other groups. There was a family who was waiting to hear how the woman’s father got through a triple bypass. The other group of tattooed men looked like a motorcycle gang if Sons of Anarchy was any kind of template to go by. I overheard them talking about their friend who had been shot. Apparently it didn’t look good.

  I called John’s cell again and listened as it rang and rang. I was contemplating pacing around the perimeter of the room again when a doctor walked in, pulling his mask down and surveying all of us. My heart felt like it had stopped dead and I felt panic rising in me. He took a deep breath and walked toward me. He wasn’t smiling and I found suddenly that I couldn’t breathe. He was coming to give me bad news. I could feel it. Just when I felt like I was going to black out, the doctor walked past me and stopped in front of the motorcycle gang. I was right. It was definitely bad news. It just wasn’t mine.

  I looked away as one of the women with the bikers burst out in loud sobs. I felt terrible for her — for all of them. I wasn’t sure if I should say something, like tell them I was sorry for their loss. I lowered myself into a chair just as the door swung open again and another doctor walked in. He surveyed the room and walked purposefully over to me.

  I willed my heart to keep beating as I searched his face for some clue. It was completely blank.

  “Mr. Littlechief?” he asked, looking down at me from over his reading glasses.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Is Miss Smith’s family here as well?” he asked, glancing around the room.

  “She doesn’t have any family but me,” I told him. “Is she okay, sir?”

  “She will be.” He smiled and I felt all of the air go out of me suddenly. “She’s going to need somewhere to heal. She can’t stay on the street. Her stab wound was nearly fatal and it will need to be kept clean an
d dry. She’s got broken ribs and a broken nose, but they will mend. The contusions on her face will heal as well. Your friend is lucky to be alive.”

  “Thank you so much!” I grabbed his hand and shook it. “I’ll take care of her. I promise. Can I see her?” I asked.

  “She’s in the recovery room at the moment. As soon as she’s moved to her own room, someone will come and get you.” He smiled at me. “She’s lucky you found her when you did, son.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and then turned to go.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. It was as close to a prayer as I had come in years.

  It occurred to me suddenly that John hadn’t shown up. I was about to call him again when my phone rang suddenly.

  “Hello?” I answered. “John?”

  “Hello. This is Officer Walker of the Toronto Police. Who am I speaking to?”

  “Umm . . . this is Joe Littlechief.”

  “Mr. Littlechief, are you a friend of John Burnstick?”

  My heart was pounding out of my chest. “Yes, sir. Is John okay?”

  “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, son. Mr. Burnstick passed away.”

  I dropped back into my chair, trying to remember to breathe.

  “What? That’s impossible I just talked to him.”

  “I’m sorry son. Looks like a heart attack. You’re the only number in his phone. Does he have any family?”

  “Just me,” I whispered. Me and Sid. Oh god. How was I going to tell Sid? I listened as the officer gave his condolences and told me where I could pick up John’s things. As he hung up I walked to the men’s room. I barely made it into a stall before I started sobbing.

  Chapter 20

  Saving Sid

  I had to wait several hours for Sid to be transferred from recovery into a room. I had spent so long in the waiting room that the bikers had long left and the family waiting for news on the triple bypass had received their own good news. I was numb. I was heartbroken about John. But part of me was happy that Sid was going to be okay! I couldn’t keep up with the battling feelings in my brain. When a nurse finally came for me, I was dozing with my body sprawled across two chairs.

  The walk up to Sid’s room seemed endless. I felt like I’d never get there. At the same time, I dreaded seeing what condition she was in. She had come close to death. I was terrified of what I’d find when I walked into her hospital room. And I was terrified she’d ask about John. I stood just outside the doorway and paused.

  “It’s okay,” the nurse smiled. “Go ahead in.”

  I nodded and squared my shoulders. I pushed open the door and walked in, holding my breath without even being aware I was doing it.

  Sid was lying in a hospital bed, looking pale and lost under a stark white sheet. She had a bandage over her nose and her face was marred by bruises. Her hair hung in lanky clumps against her cheeks. She’d hate that, I thought to myself. I wished I had a brush so I could at least comb the snarls out for her.

  I walked over to the bed and stood over her, watching her chest rise and fall, listening to machines beeping behind her. An IV dripped fluid steadily into her arm through a tube that snaked under the blanket. I sat and took her hand, noticing that her cherry red nail polish was chipped. I made a mental note to bring a hairbrush and some nail polish so I could touch her nails up while she was lying here recovering.

  Sid’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. I saw her look around the room and panic, until her eyes met mine. She tried to talk, coughed, tried again. When nothing but a squeak came out, I picked up a jug of water and held the straw for her as she drank.

  “You probably had a tube down your throat,” I told her.

  She looked at me questioningly. “Where am I?” she croaked.

  I took her hand in mine again. “You’re in the hospital,” I told her.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You don’t remember?” Had she forgotten everything that had happened to her?

  “I . . . I’m not sure.”

  “The guy in the red Audi?” I prodded.

  Her eyes opened wide suddenly. “Oh my God,” she gasped. Her eyes flooded with tears as she remembered.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked her gently, brushing the hair off her face.

  “Yeah. I remember some of it,” she said. “He was fine at first. Kept complimenting me and telling me how pretty I am.” She frowned as the memories returned.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it . . .” I told her.

  “No. No, I do. And you were right about him. I noticed it as soon as he pulled away from the curb. He got impatient. He kept trying to run his hand up my thigh. I pushed it away, tried to turn his focus back on himself. He pulled into the alley and basically dove on top of me. I tried to fight him off but he was too strong. He kept trying to push his hand up my skirt and I scratched his face pretty badly fighting him off. But he pinned me down. As soon as he got his hand up my skirt, he freaked out. Got violent.”

  I clenched my fists and tried to stop myself from lashing out at something. I glanced at the wall and could almost feel my fist smashing against it. What a relief it would be. I looked back down at Sid and took a deep breath. This wasn’t about me.

  “I shouldn’t have let you go with him,” I told her. “I’m sorry.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped me,” she admitted. “But there he was, hitting me. I was trying to protect myself. I had my hands over my face but he punched me in the ribs. I heard something crack and put my hands down so he started in on my face. I kept trying to open the car door but he had locked it when I got in. So I was struggling between trying to fend him off and getting out. I finally fell out the door and into the alley. I tried to crawl away . . . it was all I could manage. I thought he’d drive away. But you were right about him. You were.”

  I shook my head wordlessly. I didn’t want to be right. I wished with all my heart that I had been wrong.

  “I thought it was over,” she continued. “I was actually breathing a sigh of relief that I had gotten off so easy. A couple of broken ribs and some bruises . . . I’d be fine. But instead of hearing him drive off, I heard him open his door. I tried to get up but before I knew it, he was standing over me. I looked up and he punched me dead in the face. I saw stars, Joe. I literally saw stars. I also heard the crunch and knew my nose was broken. Damn him! I always liked my nose.”

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “A plastic surgeon came and looked at it. He said it’ll heal perfectly.”

  “Well that’s good to hear!” Sid almost smiled at that. “Would you believe all I could think about was what my face would look like after he beat me up? As if that was the thing I should be worried about,” she said bitterly.

  I felt entirely helpless as I sat rubbing her hand and nodding. Letting her talk. Trying to be there for her and control my rage at the same time. I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my face calm as she continued.

  “So I’m lying there on the ground, still thinking he’ll finally leave. He had to be finished with me right? Wrong. All of a sudden I felt what I thought was a piece of ice jab into my chest. I obviously knew it wasn’t ice. But that’s what it felt like. It was so cold going in. And as soon as he pulled it out, I felt like I was on fire. I looked down and saw blood running out of my chest and pooling underneath me. I finally heard his footsteps going back to the car and then heard it pull away. Finally. And Joe? I thought I was going to die. I felt myself just slipping away.”

  She squeezed my hand back for the first time.

  “I thought you were dead when I found you,” I admitted.

  “I heard your voice,” she said, frowning. “I forgot about it until now. I was gone . . . floating somewhere else . . . but I heard you.” She smiled at me. “You saved me, Joe.”

  I didn’t have the words to respond to that. I just squeezed her hand and smile
d. Because the truth was, she probably would be dead if I hadn’t found her when I did. And that thought scared me more than anything I could think of.

  Chapter 21

  Mourning

  I spent two nights beside Sid while she slept. The nurses were nice enough to ignore the posted visiting hours and let me stay. On the third morning, I watched Sid eat and marvelled that she had pulled through. She had been attacked and gone through surgery. I knew she needed as much rest as possible. But first, I needed to do one more thing. Now that she was stronger I had to tell her about John. She had asked about him a couple of times but I had managed to put her off, giving her one vague answer after another.

  “Sid,” I began. She looked at me so trustingly. How could I tell her what had happened to John? I took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.” She smiled a little.

  Oh God. I couldn’t bear to cause her more pain. But this was something I had to do. Something family would do. “It’s about John.”

  “Is he coming?” She looked toward the door as if to see him walk through it.

  “No. He . . .” My voice broke.

  Sid frowned slightly. Maybe she could sense what I was about to say.

  I swallowed hard and tried again. “John . . . John died.”

  Sid’s eyes filled with tears as I continued.

  “He was a lot sicker than he let on I guess. I found out right after your surgery. I had to wait until you were stronger to tell you. I’m so sorry, Sid.”

  I felt my heart break as Sid sobbed. I held her as she mourned our friend, a man who had been more of a father to us than either of ours. As she cried I thought of all we had lost when John died.

  Once she had cried herself to sleep, I got up and went to the nurse’s station. I asked to borrow a pair of scissors.

  I took the scissors into the men’s room. I looked at myself in the mirror and slowly, for John, I cut off my braid.