Date: Thu, 6 Jun 2002 13:54:01 -0400 From: Michael Raburn Subject: Dylan's Hope 12 THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS. NO PORTION OF THIS WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR. THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE LEAVE NOW. ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. DYLAN'S HOPE Michael A. Raburn Chapter 12 Blinding flashes of blue-green lightning struck the tree next to my shoulder. Gasping for breath I fled the temporary shelter of the old oak tree running back towards the cover of the forest. Hours it seemed I had been running, trying to escape the relentless crashing of the storm. Running, running from the pain of its emergence, the pain of the reality that I wanted to forget all about. Briars and blackberry branches tore at my legs as I ran through the underbrush desperately searching for him. Flashes of their childhood assaulted me between lightning strikes. Abruptly I cleared the last trees of the forest and found myself running through the tall grasses of a meadow. Wildflowers were scattered along the path I followed, a trail laid for me to follow? Nearing the center of the circular area I slowed my pace, noticing that the grass was shorter and appeared to be newly cut. Glancing ahead of me, the path ended at a row of dark granite markers. Laughter and the sounds of children playing caused me to turn away from the sight in front of me. I frantically tried to find them; their giggles caused me to turn this way and that looking for them. Turning back around hoping they would be behind me, I again faced the line of stones. Images long sought in my nightly ravings came crisply into focus in that little meadow. The grainy black and white peeks I had fought recognizing were thrust fully developed at me. I clinched my eyes tight against the onslaught, my ragged breath the only sound I could hear. The thunderous roar of the storm ceased mid rumble. Opening my eyes to see what caused it to stop I screamed as the deeply etched letters focused enough for me to clearly read them. I had to get away. I could not bear the sight before me. Another bolt of greenish fire struck near me, jolting me back to my escape. Running away from the center I headed towards the trees across the meadow. Black, angry clouds again surrounded me, the howling thunder and winds again battered me, following me towards the forest. Forever I ran, always hoping to find a safe place, a sanctuary from the attack on my senses. Again I cleared the trees and found myself back in the meadow, again approaching the thing I feared the most, the reality of what was happening to those I love. More was becoming clear, this time names were replaced by numbers--dates, I realized. Like a continuous loop of film the dream continued, me running through the woods and clearing into the meadow. I was helpless against it, no way to stop the cycle. I refused to accept the truth and was continually driven, forced to repeat the cycle. The storm was propelling me forward until I returned again and again to the meadow. Exhausted I collapsed on my knees openly weeping and gasping for breath facing them. In my delirium I heard the whisper of his sweet voice in my head. "Daddy, help me." Robert's voice shook me from my trance. I looked over the shoulder of the man I was holding in my arms outside the trauma unit to see him and Andrea running down the hall. "Have you heard anything?" "Nothing. They are still working on them." "Who, why?" My daughter asked, pulling both of us into a hug. I only had one concern when he fell against me; get him to help. I had thought of no one else. Leaving Andrea and Robert to fend for themselves, I grabbed Dylan and raced for the Cherokee. Blood was flowing so quickly that I had no time to stop and check how serious his injury was. I cradled his torso against me as I drove frantically through the woods and towards the tiny hospital. In one of my lucid moments I again apologized to Dylan for having to make this crazy trip with me after the axe incident. I prayed with every molecule I had that the dreams would not become real and that he would not leave me. The emergency room team quickly took him from my arms and whisked him down the hall and into the unit. The nurse in charge all but tackled me to keep me from following them. She grunted and pointed toward the waiting area. There was only one other person pacing back and forth as I entered. I almost did not recognize him, as disheveled and blood covered as he was. "Mark?" "Jon?" "Jake? Oh God, no." I murmured, crossing to embrace him. "Not Dylan." Realization struck him. We clung to each other, each in our own private hell; fearful of what was happening to the ones we loved. We did not speak, just hung on and swayed, each lost in our own worry. Sarah's voice cut through the quiet of the hospital. She came around the corner and into the emergency area, her purse and coat sailing past us into a chair behind the nurses' station. "What the hell is going on?" She demanded. "I heard on the scanner that there had been a shooting and a beating and that they were calling in extra personnel." She looked up at us, not immediately realizing who we were. None of us were in any condition to answer and the ward clerk did not seem to be paying attention. She looked back and forth at Mark and me holding each other. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought against them, biting her lip. "No!" she yelled and ran down the hall towards the trauma bays. "Andrea, you're bleeding! Did you get hurt?" I asked. I looked up at her face from the blood running down her leg. " I don't think so." She answered looking down. "Now that you mention it I don't feel too well." She grabbed at her belly. "Robert, go get somebody." I yelled. Mark and I picked her up and carried her to a gurney that was sitting in the hall. What had been a trickle of blood just a moment before was now flowing rapidly, pooling on the floor when we lifted her to the stretcher. Robert came running back with two medical personnel in tow. I grabbed him into a hug as they wheeled my daughter and his wife down the hall away from us. "The doctor told us she might have some problems. He said something didn't look quite right on the ultrasound but it was still too early to tell." He told us, barely able to voice the words. "One." Rumbled in my head. "CODE!!" someone screamed. I heard the stone fall into place, the lightning strike etching the pattern. I had to stop this, but I didn't know how. Again I started to run, in my mind back in the heavily wooded forest. I was still clutching at Mark and Robert and realized I was hyperventilating as my knees weakened and the darkness threatened to engulf me. Still standing in our tight knot, Mark, Robert and I looked frantically from each other towards the curtained off area. A doctor and nurse stepped from the first trauma room and looked in our direction. They started to walk towards us. I felt Mark tighten in my arms, his voice caught as he whispered "no" and collapsed against me. "I need more help. She's bleeding out." We heard someone calling from where they had taken Andrea. The medical staff turned and ran towards the third area. The booming sound of the second stone falling into place echoed around in my head. "Two." The lightning responded. Through the tears streaking down my face I could see Robert clinching his jaw and fighting back tears of his own. He pulled himself closer to me and began to sob. Above the sounds of our crying a high pitched, piercing sound resonated from the second area. "Start CPR." Someone shouted. "Three." "I love you, Dylan." I mouthed the words as my world crashed around me. The darkening fog was surrounding me. I felt branches lifting me away from the scene, readying to hurl me back into that nightmarish realm of my worst fears. I felt myself falling through the storm, pelted with torrents of icy cold rain. Kneeling before the grave markers I prayed, I promised, I pleaded. Cruel laughter screeched around me. Thunder roared in the distance. A puff of white mist appeared above the granite stones and started to descend into the ground. The lettering on the first stone began to glow with an orange fire as Jake's face materialized then vanished beneath the dirt. Again the thunder rumbled and another puff of mist appeared. Andrea's face. Thunder. Mist. I heard the scream for a second before I realized it was coming from my mouth. "There will be more." A dark figure draped in mist appeared in front of me, stretching out his hand. My eyes darted to where he was indicating as more stones silently fell into place. "Why?" I cried, looking back at him. His laughter crackling through the air was his only answer. The haggard, decayed face peered through the parting mists that surrounded his head. Abject terror gripped my throat; blackness tightened its grip. I silently screamed again, staring into the dead eyes of my father. TO BE CONTINUED