Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2017 18:24:43 +0000 (UTC)
From: Kim Hansen <ringinmine@yahoo.com>
Subject: Ring in Mine: John Chapter 16

Ring in Mine
    Kim Terry

Sorry about where I broke the chapter. I just couldn't resist.

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My thanks go out to Zack for proofreading this chapter.

     Kim
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Ring in Mine: John Chapter 16

The paramedics had difficulty getting John's body out of the dumpster
without causing additional damage. Two of them climbed into the bin. Things
were passed over the edge. Finally a backboard disappeared into the
darkness. When it reappeared a pile of dirty, bloody clothes were strapped
to the board. Ruth's sobs were plainly heard over the general confusion.

The paramedic announced. "He's been beaten up pretty bad and is suffering
from hypothermia; but he is alive."

The ambulance made better time to the hospital than the Litchfields. Mark
had stopped to pick up his mother. Mark knew he would hear about it if he
hadn't. When they arrived Bob and Frank were talking with the police. Mark
saw a tape change hands before they were taken back to where John would be.

"That's twice this month he has paid a price for people thinking he is
gay. My question is how did John's name get leaked? That was supposed to be
privileged information." Frank was asking the police.

Just then the news on the waiting room TV caught Bob's eye. He had seen a
reporter at the church. When a photo appeared on the screen of John lying
in the dumpster he was furious. The photo had to be taken before the
officers arrived or someone in the police department had slipped the photo
to the news.

There was a lawsuit in the making. He wondered if Frank and Brent were up
to it or if he needed to bring in Trevor.

----------

The Litchfield family sat in an empty cubicle. John was in radiology. The
doctors were worried about internal injuries. They wanted to know the
condition of John's spine before they took him off the backboard.

"Your son will be joining us soon. His spine and neck are undamaged. This
is good news; if they had been damaged John would most likely be
paralyzed. Most of the blood came from a couple of head wounds and his
nose." The doctor explained.

"Your son put up quite a fight. Somewhere there are some individuals with a
fair share of wounds of their own. There is a lot of skin under his
fingernails. The blood on his hands and arms came from someone else. The
nurses collected a lot of evidence to pass onto the police." He continued.

"So what do we do now?" Ruth asked.

"John would never have gotten out of the dumpster without help. They broke
his leg. The orthopedic surgeon is looking at the X-rays. It will probably
involve some surgery on his knee."

John was out of it during the night. The pain medications were keeping him
unaware of the world around him.  --------- John was shouting for help in
the dumpster. His body ached and the cold had seeped into his very bones.

`I'm going to die.' He decided.

"Johnathan come walk with me." John's eyes followed up the arm attached to
the offered hand. John was pretty sure the angel of death wouldn't wear a
gymnast singlet and track pants. John recognized the face. Side by side
they walked silently through a white landscape.

"If you had to give up art or gymnastics which would it be?"

John didn't like the question; he didn't answer. They continued down the
path. In an all-white landscape how could there be a definable white
path. He was trying to figure how he would paint it. He analyzed the white
and identified tints of blues, yellows, grays and browns. He realized he
had answered the question.

"That's what I had hoped. People on your side think guardian angels are so
powerful. We aren't allowed to interfere very often. I buffered the attack
as much as I could."

John noticed that Marcus' arms and hands were bruised; his eye was swollen.

"I had to choose to protect your knee or your hands. I hope I chose well?"

The pair walked in silence side by side each in their own thoughts.

"I need you to understand something." The angel reached out and parted the
white landscape like a shimmering curtain. A young man knelt by his bed. A
young man John recognized from his nighttime drawings.

"If I could choose I wouldn't remember that horrible weekend, but since I
must, let this be my cross to bear. Please Lord, let the others be spared
this burden." The young man fervently pleaded with his God. "Help them move
beyond the evils done in your name."

"Except for your paintings, this young man's request has been
granted. Together both of you are going to make a difference in the world."

"They are waking you up. I need to let you go. I did love your dad and in
his way he loved me. Things worked out for the best. I think." Marcus gave
John a hug. "Would you give that to your dad for me?"

Once again Marcus pulled the white aside. A bruised figure lay on a
bed. Ruth held a motionless hand. Mark stood behind her. Marcus reached up
and kissed Mark's cheek. Mark's fingers brushed his cheek with a smile.

"I nearly forgot I have three gifts for you. One for your heart; One for
your mind; One for your soul." Marcus touched John's chest, eyes and head.

"They look so sad." John sighed.

"Do you want to make them happy? Move your finger."

John moved his finger.

"Mark he moved his finger." Ruth exclaimed excitedly.

Marcus reached over and closed John's eyes.

"I understand why your God loves you. You won't see me but know that when
things get tough I will be there." Marcus kissed John on the cheek. "Now
open your eyes."

----------

The hospital room was a scene of relative peace. The same couldn't be said
about the high school. One of the blood types found under John's
fingernails was B-, a very rare blood type. With a school population of
1000 only 30 of the students would have that type of blood. The police were
sure that if they found a student scratched up with B- blood they could
make a case.

There were officers watching every door. Considering the threat reported in
Bob's voicemail, they were sure someone would show up for school looking
pretty beaten up. One dissenting voice kept suggesting it must have been a
mugging gone wrong. After all where was the boy's wallet. He must have been
attacked for the cash he was carrying. The detective in charge of the
investigation didn't remember any mention of a wallet or cash. How many
thirteen year olds actually carried a wallet. Most guys didn't really carry
a wallet until they started to drive.

Three of the school's athletes arrived at separate times; all were pretty
beaten up. One had a black-eye, all three were sporting scratches to their
faces and hands. One had traces of blood on his shoes.

With names in hand the detectives with all the proper paperwork were back
at the school for a little discussion. The team was going to be missing
some of their best players and a coach for the game that night.

When they were called to the office the young man whose father worked for
the police department had been checked out of school by his mother for a
family emergency.


----------

John looked up into his parent's eyes. "Hi, mom. Hi, dad."

"What happened last night?" Mark asked.

John told his parents about the events of the past two days at school. Mark
was becoming increasingly agitated. "Dad calm down or do I need to call
grandma?"

John waited as Mark tried to gain control.

"I was walking home. It was very dark. A car pulled in front of me in the
church parking lot. Three high school guys jumped out. They were all
wearing Falcon letterman jackets. Two were tall enough to be basketball
players." John shuddered. He had to breathe slowly. "When I realized I
wasn't going to get away, I did as much damage as I could. Somewhere there
are three guys that look like they have been attacked by a wildcat." John
thought it was a clever use of his dad's college mascot.

"Once they got me on the ground things got bad fast. They went from hitting
to kicking me. I thought at the time `I'm glad they are all wearing tennis
shoes. The guy built like a football player attacked my knee at the same
time another stomped on my hand. It hurt so bad. I don't remember much
after that except waking up in a dumpster. I couldn't grab anything and I
couldn't stand up. I tried shouting but no one heard me. It started to hurt
so bad I must have passed out again.

John asked his dad to lean in. John whispered into his father's
ear. "Marcus really loved you. He says it was never your fault. He made the
mistake of getting caught sucking one of the football players. He and his
friends had taken Marcus to the forest. They realized after they had all
gotten off a couple of times that Marcus could now ruin their lives. Marcus
wouldn't have said anything. He was having a great time until they...you
know."

"He wondered if you ever got that tattoo on your bum? I told him no."

Mark was skeptical until the question about the tattoo. He hadn't even told
Ruth that Marcus and he had joked about getting each other's name tattooed
on their butt cheeks.

"How?" Mark asked.

"We will talk later." John answered. John realized this message was one of
Marcus' gifts. He wondered what the other two were.

He didn't have long to enjoy time with his parents.

"How are you doing?" Frank asked sticking his head through the door. He
didn't wait before continuing. "I have a couple of officers who need you to
answer some questions."

When the two uniformed officers entered the room, Mark became very
concerned and pulled Frank into the hall for a moment.

"Frank, one of those officers has a son on the high school football team. I
think he may be the information leak." Mark expressed his concerns.

"I know. So does the other officer. We are waiting for him to convict
himself."

The men returned to the room and the ordeal began. John began telling his
story. He felt a hand on his shoulder and remembered Marcus's promise to be
there when he was needed.

"Isn't it true that you touched a naked man's penis at the gym?" The junior
officer asked.

The senior officer shook his head and asked, "Why is that question
relevant?"

"It is common knowledge at the high school that John is a homosexual.
Didn't the boys meet you because you offered to provide oral sex for $20
each?" The junior officer asked.

"The rumor that I am gay didn't start until I accused a man for trying to
take advantage of me. A man that turned out to be your son's football
coach. You were there the day of the incident." This courage must have been
one of Marcus's gifts. "Was it you that told your son who ratted out his
pedophile coach? It wasn't me."

"That's a question that has bothered me also." Frank interjected.

"For the record, I am not gay. If I were, I would have better taste than
your son and his basketball friends. Didn't they realize that letterman
jackets have names on the back?" John was on a roll. "Plus I want my $50
back. Especially the $5 bill that has Jessica's phone number on it. She is
a real cutie."

The officer, overcome by anger, hit John lying in his hospital bed not once
but three times before he was restrained.

Looking at the senior officer Frank asked. "I want this man arrested for
assault. You can do it or I call first the news station and then the
governor's office.

The junior officer made a break for the doorway only to find it filled with
an ex-footballer that still worked out.

"At least it was the tallest of the boys that suggested I couldn't testify
if I were dead instead of your boy." John got in one last comment.

John finished telling all the details to the remaining officer. This time
he didn't omit the details he had earlier censored.

"Why didn't you tell me who it was earlier?" Mark asked.

"Because I need you here not in jail, dad." John held his arms out to his
father. Hugging his father all the the fears and tension he had kept
bottled came out. The monitors that had remained steady during his
interview with the police went haywire. The nurses tried to pull Mark away
but John only tightened his grip. One of the nurses injected a syringe into
John's IV tube. John's sobbing faded and his body relaxed.

"Be here for me dad; I love you and mom." John muttered as sleep overcame
him.

There was no angelic intervention. John woke terribly upset in the middle
of the night. He buzzed for a nurse. She helped him with the urinal. She
left him with the head of his bed up with his drawing pad in hand. The
image of a young man tied to a was chair spasming in pain. A hooded man
held a button. Wires ran from the button to the agonized figure.

True to Marcus's word he remembered only the image not the pain. He looked
at the boy in the chair and realized that it was him. The man in the hood
was in a police uniform. With the image on paper John knew he would be able
to sleep. He lowered the head of his bed and fell asleep.

The next morning there was no breakfast for the wicked. A nurse came in and
looked over the bandages. A doctor came in; took his blood pressure; and
listened to his heart.

"It will all be over soon." A doctor explained they were going to fix his
leg and knee. He looked at the braced appendage and nodded a lot.

"Aren't my parents going to be here?" John asked a nurse. She went into the
hall.

"I don't see them. I'm sure they will be here when you get out of surgery."
She said and left. John asked nurse after nurse and none of them seemed to
have any time for John. Finally an orderly came in that seemed to not be in
such a hurry.

"Hi Tom." John said reading his name tag. "Would you hand me the phone?"

Tom dialed the phone and handed the handset to John. The phone rang and
rang. John gave Tom the only other number remembered by heart. With the
handset in hand Grandma Litchfield's welcome voice came over the wires.

"Grandma, they are going to operate on my leg this morning. Mom and Dad
aren't here. Would you come sit with me when I come out of surgery. I'm
scared." John said with as strong a voice as he could master.

"John, your surgery is tomorrow." Grandma answered.

"They are coming to get me in just a few minutes. Please be here." John
pleaded.

A nurse took the phone and hung it up. "We can't have you getting over
excited. You can call after."

The first doctor returned and connected a syringe to the IV line. "This
will relax you. I will see you in surgery."

John was aware of being rolled through the hallway. They parked his bed in
a storage room. John could see supplies on the shelves. Finally they rolled
him into the operating room. Another syringe was put into his IV.

"Count backwards from 100," was the instruction. John remembered 95 and
that was it."

John saw people below him scurrying around a prone figure on a narrow
table. It was just like those medical shows where someone dies on the
table. He got tired of watching. This patient wasn't going to make it. John
walked toward a bright light that reminded him of his dream with Marcus.

A hand took hold of his shoulder. "And where do you think you are going?"
Marcus asked.

"I thought I would go over there." John pointed toward the welcoming light.

"Not today. You need to stay here. There is so much here for you to do."
Marcus answered. He wasn't letting go of his young charge.

John finally realized it was his body on the table when the doctor counted
down, "3.2.1 Clear!" John felt the tingle in his chest. The shock was more
than he could take; it woke up nameless forgotten fears. It was just like
the picture except he was strapped to a table instead of a chair.

John broke free and began running toward the light; anything was preferable
to the electric shock. The light kept moving away and another shock tore
through his body on the operating table.

A figure appeared in the portal.

"I told them you would botch the job. It should have been family." Grandpa
Litchfield was as nasty as John remembered. The figure reached out to grab
John and John changed direction. "Jonathan Litchfield get back here. You
are as disrespectful as your father was. I finally beat it out of him."

"I never liked you Grandpa. You were mean when you are alive. You're still
mean!" John remembered the time the old man had taken a belt to his bare
behind.

John ran faster leaving the two men shouting at John and each other.

"Enough." A soft melodious voice spoke and there was silence. A warm
comforting arm surrounded him with peace.

"Why do you not want to go back?" The gentleman asked.

John told him of the hidden memories to which haunted him. He told about
not being understood and how unpredictable his father was.

"From minute to minute I don't know if he is going to hug me or hit me."
John told his companion.

John continued explaining the way he was treated at school for something he
wasn't. He told of the beating and his fears of losing his leg and not
being able to do gymnastics any more. He cried his fears and worries. Now I
am on that table dying because of the bad choices of others.

"You wouldn't understand any of my problems." John cried. He looked at the
hands that held him, not demanding, not threatening, just holding. He saw
the scars on the hands and realized this was one person that would
understand.

People hadn't understood him. Violence was threatened for what he was
not. He was beaten and eventually killed.

John cried even harder.

"You don't have to go back. You have free choice even in this."  John's
older brother explained. "I could find someone else to do the work I have
for you, but they wouldn't be nearly as successful as you. You, little
brother, are the best person for the job."


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