Edward's Dilemma (9 page)

Ambulance

13 September, 3:13 AM

EMERGENCY MEDICAL Technicians (EMTs) struggled to keep Edward alive as they transported him to the hospital.  Already, in a period of twenty minutes, they had twice revived him using an external defibrillator to shock Edward’s heart and restart the electrical impulses needed to establish a normal rhythm. They had also inserted a tube into Edward’s trachea, using a procedure called tracheal intubation, in order to maintain an open airway and make it easier to give Edward a steady stream of oxygen.  Following this, the EMTs had inserted IV lines into both his arms; which they kept open, or patent, by starting an infusion of fluids.  Finally, while doing all these things, the EMTs had still managed to closely monitor the rhythm of Edward’s heart using an advanced cardiac monitor.  By the time they reached the hospital, though the trip was short, the EMTs were more than ready to be relieved by hospital staff.

Stuart Co. General Hospital

13 September, 11:41 AM

UPON BEING admitted to the Emergency Room (ER) earlier that morning, Edward was in bad shape.  Although he was breathing on his own, he had not regained consciousness and his heart rhythm was still irregular.  Every few minutes his heart went into cardiac arrest, and the medical staff frantically struggled to revive him.  Attending doctors worried not only about his short term prognosis, but also about the possibility he’d suffer neurological damage if he survived.

After remaining in the ER for about one hour, Edward’s prognosis had improved dramatically.  He was then transported to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), where nurses continued to monitor his condition throughout the remainder of the morning.  By 11:10 AM, his status was downgraded from
critical to stable, at which time he was moved to the Progressive Care Unit (PCU).

Edward was coming around – and he was beginning to like being in the hospital.  Among other things, he was borderline enchanted with the comfort of his fancy bed.  With the push of a few buttons, he discovered, he could easily adjust the contour of the bed to give him a perfect view of the wall-mounted TV.    If he happened to be tired, another quick adjustment allowed him to quickly get comfortable and fall asleep.  And then there was the food.  Not only were the meals exquisite – compared to the jail, anyway – and almost comparable with his mother’s cooking, there were snacks to boot.  With the push of another button, he could easily summon a compassionate nurse; usually, she was more than happy to bring him puddings, and
jellos, and cartons of milk.

Life was good, again.
..

EDWARD HAD almost forgotten he was still an inmate at the county jail.  He was preparing to watch a TV show, and was in the process of adjusting his bed when a doctor entered the room.  Edward was a little irritated; throughout the day he’d seen several advertisements about this show, and he was greatly looking forward to watching it.  And now, at the worst possible time, some doctor was about to rudely interrupt him.  Edward swore under his breath:  “Damn it, man.  Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Edward was suddenly ashamed of himself.  He was tormented with feelings of guilt. 
Where did this anger come from?  Why are you swearing, Edward?  What’s wrong with you?

The doctor hardly even noticed Edward, but instead looked directly at the CO who was sitting nearby to Edward’s bed.  The CO looked up, expectantly, while simultaneously placing the magazine he’d been reading on the foot of Edward’s bed.  “Well, Officer,” the doctor began, “it looks like we can discharge Edward within the hour.  It doesn’t appear that he suffered any permanent damage, and he’s pretty healthy.  I just
need to sign a few papers, and then the two of you can get out of here.”

“Great!  I’m ready to get going,” the CO replied.  He was smiling, and ready to go home.  “Just give me the word, and the paperwork, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Upon hearing what was happening, Edward’s demeanor suddenly changed.   His face paled, and he looked as if he’d been struck in the chest by a hammer.  Where there had previously been a pleasant smile, there was now a somber frown.  In his mind, Edward was having a complete melt-down: 
NOOO!  I can’t do it!  NOOO!  Oh, God, please, no, no, no!  I can’t – oh, God – I can’t go back. NO!

Down the hallway from Edward’s room, someone closed an office door a little too hard.  Though the noise was hardly loud, Edward nonetheless gritted his teeth.  A second or two later, he raised his one free hand – the other being handcuffed to the bed – and scratched his left cheek.

Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3D

31
August – 13 September

JOSH IDENTIFIED the Tank Boss within days of his re-assignment to tank 3D.  The proof came one evening when a CO threatened to keep everyone on lockdown if they were not quiet.  Although the majority of inmates quieted down immediately, there was one inmate who was unwilling to keep his mouth shut.  Everyone was irritated by his chatter, but no one – including the CO – said anything for at least ten seconds.  Finally, just when the CO had heard enough and decided to intervene, another inmate stepped-in and admonished the trouble maker to be quiet.  His booming voice could be heard throughout the tank, and for newcomers like Josh it was like a big neon sign flashing the words, “Tank Boss – Tank Boss – Tank Boss.”

Over the coming days and weeks, Josh amused himself by watching the comings and going of the Boss.  From what he observed, the Boss was someone who possessed some administrative skills, exuded confidence, and liked to intimidate people. He also appeared to be somewhat intelligent and street-savvy.   Josh wondered, however, if he was just a hollow shell. 
Is he someone who acts tough, but is really insecure?  Would he fold in a fight, if he were challenged directly?
 
What are his weaknesses
?  These were just a few of the many questions rumbling around in Josh’s mind.

Josh was also intrigued by the way the Boss managed his network of lieutenants.  Throughout the day, Josh watched as these little “worker-bees” carried out the biddings of their leader.  His organization seemed impressive, and certain elements of it were even worthy of emulation.  In fact, from the one and only business class Josh had taken while he was a student at the community college, he realized that the Boss’ organization utilized some of the same management concepts as those used by Fortune 500 co
mpanies.  The main difference: He was not at all concerned about serving the community and helping humanity; instead, his motives were entirely selfish and evil.

It wasn’t long before Josh had learned the name of this worthless individual.  It was a name he’d heard before, and whenever it had been spoken it was accompanied by praise and fearful admiration.  The name:  Marcus
Johnsen.

ONE DAY, as Josh walked through the tank on the way to his bunk, he overheard a snippet of conversation between two lieutenants.  They were talking, very quietly, about a stabbing that had occurred at a local bar several weeks earlier. 
My God,
Josh thought,
that’s about how long I’ve been in this jail!  Is this a coincidence?
  He discretely sat down at a nearby table, and pretended to be watching TV.  He continued to listen intently.

“
Yo, man, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be shot than stuck through with a knife,” said the skinny lieutenant.  His teeth were half rotted out from using meth, and his arms showed signs of heroin use.  Whenever he spoke, little droplets of saliva could be seen flying through the air.

“I’m with you, man.  I’d rather go nice and quick,” said the other.  He was a burly man, with a scar on his cheek.

“I wonder what happened to the poor dude; do you think he’s still alive?”

“Who knows?  If he is, he’s
gotta be one hurt’n unit.”  The two shared a good laugh.  After pausing for a second to look around, the two continued to talk.

“
Ya know what’s even funnier?” said skinny.

“What’s that, homey?”

“The name of the place where he got shanked was ‘Lucky’s.  Ha, Ha, Ha.  Can you believe that?  I laughed my a** off when I first heard that from Marcus.  The poor sucker went in for a beer, and came out with a knife stuck in his gut.  Ahh, Ha, Ha, Ha.  I wonder if any of that drink came out through the new hole.  Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.”

“You’re kill’n me, man.  You’re kill’n me,” said the burly lieutenant.  He was practically falling off of his bed from laughter.

Upon hearing the word, “
Lucky’s,” Josh’s ears were on fire.  His interest in what was being discussed immediately surged to a new level, and his thoughts went into overdrive. 
Did I hear that right?  Did he just say, “Lucky’s?”
  A tingle went up his spine, and goose bumps popped up all over on the back of his neck.  He had to hear more – but as he leaned forward, there was a distraction behind him as another lieutenant joined the conversation.

“
Yo, homeys, what’s hang’n?”

Josh glanced to the side as stealthily as possible in order to see the newcomer.  Things were starting to get a little dicey, and Josh began to wonder how much longer he’d be able to stay seated at the table.  The last thing he wanted to happen was for one of these guys to notice him.

The newcomer sat down at another table; adjacent to Josh’s table, but about 15 feet away.  He was a big guy with tattoos all over his arms.  The dude looked like he’d spent a lot of time working-out, because his muscles were huge.  Josh guessed that he weighed about 230, and not an ounce of that was fat.

“Hey!  What’s up, Oscar?” skinny replied.  “Cracked any heads, lately?”

“HA! Not exactly, but Marco had me put the fear of God into one little dude.  The prick thought a ‘favor’ was just a favor.  HA!  You know how that goes.”  Oscar paused as they all shared a chuckle, and then he continued...

“What are you guys
talk’n about?”

The two lieutenants looked around once again, looked at each other, and then skinny replied to Oscar’s question.  As he spoke, he paused to take a bite out of an old bread roll he’d been holding in his dirty hand.

“The thing at Lucky’s – chomp – you know – the guy that got shanked.”  As skinny spoke, a sizeable chunk of the contraband bread launched from his mouth and landed on the floor.  For a second or two he looked at the floor, and then wiped his mouth.

“
Arrrh.  Dude, man, that’s f***’n gross!”  Oscar was visibly disturbed by what he’d just witnessed.  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to speak when your mouth’s full?”

“
Ahh, ha, ha, ha, ha...”  Burly was again laughing his head off, and slapping his knee at the same time.

Josh was getting anxious.  Already he’d been at the table for at least 5 minutes.  Sooner or later one of the lieutenants was bound to wonder why he was hanging around at the table.  Somehow, Josh had to make it appear as if he had no interest, whatsoever, in the conversation that was taking place a short distance away.  He had an idea, and he prayed that it would work.

Nonchalantly, he got up from the table, walked over to a nearby bunk where a guy was laying on his bed, and loudly asked him if he could borrow a piece of paper.  When the guy gave him a piece, Josh walked back over to the table, sat down once again, and then proceeded to act as if he were writing.

The lieutenants were none the wiser.

“Yo, Oscar.  What was that guy’s name?  Marco told me, but I forget.”  Skinny took another chomp from his bread roll as he waited for Oscar to respond.

“Which guy?”

“The guy at Lucky’s, damn it – the guy that got shanked.”

“
Shhhh – don’t talk so loud,” Oscar whispered.

“Well, who was it?”

“It was Joey – Joey Jones.  Marco told me that he started skimm’n dough or something.  That’s when you-know-who decided to pop him.”  For effect, Oscar swiped a finger across his neck.

Josh could hardly contain himself. 
This is unbelievable
, he thought. 
This is frick’n UNBELIEVABLE!
  Without thinking, he turned his head in the direction of the three lieutenants.  The burly one returned his look – but only for a moment.  Fortunately, Josh still had the presence of mind to turn back around and focus on the paper in front of him.  As he did, his thoughts raced a mile a minute:

My God!  I’ve got to tell Edward and Jerry – and the police – and my attorney.  And Ben!  I’ve got to tell Ben.  Oh, my God!  My God!  How is this possible?  How come the police didn’t figure this out? Oh, my God!

The conversation continued, but now the three lieutenants were talking in whispers.  Josh eventually came to his senses, and once again tried to eavesdrop.  To his chagrin, however, he could now only hear bits and pieces of what was being said.  But it didn’t matter, anyway; the conversation was already beginning to falter.  Josh decided that he’d better make his exit now – otherwise, it might be obvious that he was spying.  Slowly, he got up from the table.

After tucking the paper in his breast pocket, he glanced in the direction of the three lieutenants before walking away.  He didn’t think he’d been noticed, but he was mistaken.  As it turned out, Oscar just happened to be looking in his direction.

OSCAR TURNED his head to the side and frowned. 
What was that?
he thought. 
That was a little strange.
  His sixth sense was screaming at him, and he couldn’t ignore it.  A few seconds later, when Josh was no longer within earshot, he posed a question to his two friends.

“Did you see that guy?”

“What guy?” skinny replied.

“That guy over there – the one that’s
walk’n away.”  Oscar motioned with his thumb, like a hitchhiker, towards Josh’s receding figure.

“Are you
talk’n about the dude that was over at that table?” burly asked.

“Yes, yes, that guy,” Oscar affirmed.  “I think he might have heard us
talk’n.  How long was he sitt’n there, anyway?”

“Quit being so paranoid,” skinny replied. 
“Even if he did hear us, so what?  I think...”

Just then, the trio noticed Marcus ascending the stairs and walking towards them.  Not wanting to get into trouble, skinny quickly zipped his lips.  The others followed his lead without hesitation.

County/City Building, Stuart Co.

14
September, 10:14 AM

DETECTIVE ROBERT Matson sat at his desk going over some notes.  As usual, his desk was a verifiable mess, but it didn’t seem to bother him; he always managed to find what he was looking for, even if it involved a little digging.  Although he didn’t care what his co-workers thought about him, he sometimes wondered how his meticulously tidy wife ever put up with him.

Today, at 10:30, he was scheduled to meet with Prosecuting Attorney Arthur
Klipp for an hour or so to go over the case involving Edward, Josh, and Jerry.  It had been about a week and a half since they had last met, and during the interval the two had begun referring to the defendants as the “Lucky Boys,” and the case as the “Lucky Boys Case.”  Both men got a chuckle out of the obvious irony of these names, but they were nonetheless deadly serious about prosecuting the case.

At about 10:20, Robert gathered up his stuff and headed for Arthur’s office.  He wasn’t really looking forward to the meeting because he had numerous other things he had to do.  Still, he realized it was part of the job, so he grudgingly navigated his way through several hallways to Arthur’s office.  Along the way, he passed a co-worker who offered a smile and a greeting.  In return, Robert managed to mumble a half-hearted “hello.”

In his hands, Robert once again carried his old briefcase, and a newspaper.  He was hoping to get a chance during his lunch break to read the paper, but he wasn’t counting on it. 
Fat chance Arthur will give me a moment of peace
, he thought.  He yearned to sit down with a cup of coffee, kick his shoes off, and casually peruse the sports section of his paper.  He felt like he was becoming detached from the rest of the world, like a worker bee with no other purpose than to work.  He wondered what it would be like to have a “normal” nine to five job.

As he got closer to Arthur’s office, his mind grew increasingly agitated; he’d been going full-bore on the case, and had spent a lot of time in the field – away from the office –
collecting evidence.  At the end of each day, he was so exhausted that he’d return home and literally collapse on the sofa.  He felt like he was being unfair to himself, to his wife, and to his family, and he didn’t think he could keep going much longer.

Still, in spite of his sacrifice, Arthur didn’t seem to care.  Feeling pressure from the media, and not satisfied with the pace of the investigation, Arthur had been riding Robert’s leg on a daily basis.  Robert was getting so fed up with the constant phone calls that he was tempted, on more than one occasion, to send Arthur and angry note telling him to back off.  In fact he’d even composed a note several days earlier, but he’d changed his mind before sending it.

“I gotta retire from this business – before it kills me,” he said to himself just as he reached Arthur’s office.  He knocked on the door twice.  A second later, upon hearing Arthur yell “Come in,” Robert reluctantly entered the office.

AFTER THE usual greetings, Arthur apologized for the way he’d been hounding Robert during the last two weeks.  He explained to Robert what he, Robert, already knew – that is, Arthur was feeling a lot of pressure from his boss, and also from the media.  Unless he made a decision fairly soon regarding upping the charges against the “Lucky Boys,” the Prosecutor’s office would lose a certain degree of credibility.  Although Robert accepted this explanation, he nonetheless chided Arthur in a nice way for being such a jerk.  A pregnant pause ensued, and then the business part of the meeting began.