Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival (5 page)

Bishop had been lying in bed all day, watching the news and letting Terri take care of him. He was actually feeling a bit better, but needed to get both his shoulder and ribs checked out. The cable news channels were covering the Houston explosion from every possible angle. Over 1,200 people were dead, and another 650 were injured. The fires were still burning, and the Houston Fire Department was struggling with a combination of poor water pressure and a lack of manpower. The department suffered from cutbacks just like every other city agency in the last few years. The mayor had asked for help from Dallas and other nearby cities, but so far those departments had responded with only token assistance, as they were shorthanded, too.

The initi
al reaction by several experts was that the whole affair had been a terrorist attack. The 24x7-news coverage concluded that the explosion was a truck bomb and that a sleeper cell of jihadists had taken advantage of the crowd gathered in front of the hospital and detonated the weapon. Bishop didn’t buy it. The crowd at the hospital had been impromptu and compared to a football game or other event, had been quite small. If a terror cell were going to stage an attack, why go after such a small crowd?

Wall Street reacted poorly to the news. Already down by over 50% since the start of the depression, stocks plunged even further
in anticipation of additional attacks and the reaction of the US government. The president had done what presidents always do and expressed sorrow, while pledging to bring justice to those responsible. America was already a war-weary country, and the vast majority of the population blamed 16 years of war for a large part of the current economic situation. While all but a skeleton force of US troops had been pulled from foreign battlefields, the money had been spent. Money that many believed would have been better utilized at home.

The prospect of more war
, combined with an already unemployed and frustrated people, brought out protestors. Clashes with police were becoming common in every major city. It didn’t help that Houston General was part of a nationwide system of hospitals with facilities in 12 major metropolitan areas. While no other medical center experienced a disaster like Houston General, the emotional and economic ripples were felt throughout the other eleven communities. This compounded an already tense situation in these areas that led to protests, mobs, and even minor looting.

I
n Atlanta, riot police had been deployed, and two young men had been killed in the resulting encounter. As the news of the shootings spread, it wasn’t long before a full uprising broke out. The nation witnessed violence on a scale not seen since the Rodney King verdict in Los Angeles, years before.

Atlanta was burning.

It was late afternoon when a Houston news producer reviewed the video that his now deceased crew was transmitting back to the station before the explosion. The newsroom had been in complete turmoil since the hospital had been attacked. They had lost four co-workers in the blast, and that shock, combined with an unending series of major news events, had resulted in everyone’s forgetting about the film from that day. The producer and a sound engineer were watching as the female reporter interviewed a spectator from the crowd. The questions and answers were almost indiscernible due to the noise of the mob, so the sound engineer was trying to block out the background noise. The producer stopped the footage playback and pointed to the edge of the picture where he could see the side of a truck holding several storage tanks. In addition to the containers, the producer was intrigued by the figures of three men who were facing away from the crowd and were preoccupied instead with the truck.

“Can you isolate from that direction?” he asked the engineer. The
crew that day had been equipped with the station’s latest digital video and audio equipment. The engineer pulled up a computer display with dozens of multi-colored lines and began typing and clicking with the mouse.

After about three minutes, he said
, “How’s this?” and an audio began to play.

Both men sat in shock as the slightly warbled voices began to play over the computer
’s speakers. “Go back to Mexico, asshole! If all you fuckers went back home, maybe we would have jobs. Let’s kick his ass!” A few minutes later, they managed to enhance the video, and Ali’s shotgun could be seen in the picture. “This is priority one,” said the producer. “Get this on the air now! Someone get me New York on the phone, and oh, yeah, call the FBI too.”

KFOR News
Houston began reporting that the explosion at Houston General Hospital was not a terrorist related attack, but was the result of a racial incident. The network then showed the clip of the three white men, moving toward the cab of a delivery truck and what appeared to be a Mexican man in the truck’s door pulling out a shotgun. The audio made it obvious what was going on. The cameraman had instinctively moved his camera toward the police officer who shouted, “Gun!” and a shot pierced the air. The picture then went blank, and the network anchor began to explain the source of the video.

Within a few hours, every
news outlet in the world started playing the video clip over and over. Most people were relieved that it wasn’t a terrorist attack. On television, it appeared to be a simple argument that had somehow gotten out of control. The following morning, the stock market recovered slightly, and many people exhaled in relief. They had no idea how premature that relief was.

Bishop was watching when yet another
breaking news alert flashed on his TV. He almost ignored it because it seemed like every five minutes there had been some event that the cable news warranted as special, new, or important. Most of them were just a new spin on old news, complete redundancies at best. When he saw that this report concerned the Houston incident, he watched with more attentiveness.
I told you so
, he thought as the report ended.

He was tired of lying in bed and was about to get up when he heard Terri come home from work
. As she headed toward their bedroom, he decided to play possum and avoid another scolding about “rest.” He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He heard Terri move quietly around the room for a bit
, and then there was no noise at all. He waited almost a full minute and was about to peek to see if she had gone. The sound of her voice made him jump, as she was standing right next to the bed.

“I kn
ew you were awake. Faker!”

“I was not awake. You just scared the shit out of me.”

“Bishop, how do you expect to get better if you don’t rest? How are you feeling?

“Well
, Nurse Terri, I have this inflammation problem, and I was hoping you could help me with it.”

Terri’s face flashed concern for about one second
until she understood, and then she playfully replied, “You’re swollen? Where baby?”

Bishop’s hand reached
beneath the covers to his groin and he said, “It’s really swollen right down here nurse, and it’s
very
uncomfortable.”

Terri reached down and pulled back the covers reve
aling Bishop in his underwear. She slowly pulled her skirt up to her waist saying, “I think I have the right medicine for that problem. You just lie still, and let Nurse Terri apply a special treatment.”

She gently straddled hi
m on the bed and began to rub against the area in question. Bishop responded immediately with a moan and said, “Oh Nurse…Oh, that seems to be making the problem worse.”

Terri’s expression changed from fake lus
t to pure mischief. While keeping her hips moving, she leaned forward and gave Bishop a kiss. As she started to lean back, she purposely put her hands on his chest and applied just a touch of pressure. Bishop inhaled sharply as his wounded ribs smarted, “Ouch.”

Terri dismounted him immediately
. She didn’t even give him a chance to protest.

“That’s not fair
, Bishop. You get a girl all excited and can’t perform? I thought I had another 20 years of good service out of you before you started wearing out. Do you need blue pills already?”

“You little shit
. Why if I could catch you, I would show you a performance.”

“Oh, there you go again. You are teasing me
, and it’s mean. You know I don’t like mean men.”

Bishop pointed to his underwear, which no
w looked like a small camping tent, and said, “A tease, huh?”

Terri looked down and grinned
. “I think some ice would help with that swelling. Hold on a second, and let me get an ice pack out of the freezer,” she said and turned to leave.

Bishop reached out to catch her, but pulled back quickly
when the sharp pain in his ribs protested. “Ok, you win. But when I’m better, you are going to pay.”

Terri sat down on the edge of the bed and played with his hair. She gave him a look of pure love
, and they smiled at each other.

“You poor baby, I feel so guilty. Let me make it up to you
,” she said as her hand gently moved to the elastic band in his underwear. She slowly kissed him with little pecks all the way down his chest and onto his tummy. Right below his navel, she stopped, looked up at him, and said, “Lay back and relax.”

Ten minutes later, Bishop was falling into a deep
, satiated sleep.

Terri looked down at him and smiled.
What a wonderful man I have
, she thought.

She had “met” Bishop via an
internet-dating website. After weeks of complaining to co-workers about how she hated clubs and bars, someone suggested she try the web. She had initially scoffed at the idea. Raised in a conservative mid-western home, Terri considered online dating as something for overweight losers who couldn’t find true love any other way.

She was sitting alone in her apartment on a Saturday night. Her date for
the evening had just called and cancelled. It was no big deal as her suitor was just the latest in a string of lukewarm relationships.
What the hell. What do I have to lose? I should try that internet thing.
She searched the web and picked a dating site that appeared to be more about relationships and less about casual sex. After filling out a profile and posting what she considered her best picture, she decided to enter the chat room and watch.

It was only a few minutes before the computer dinged, and she saw that she had a message in her in-box. Before she could figure out how to open the message, a second and then a third appeared.
Wow
, she thought,
that must have been a really good picture
.

She exchanged emails with Bishop for over two weeks. She really couldn’t tell what was different about his messages or why she had focused on him out of the
dozens of men who contacted her. After a few phone conversations, they agreed to meet in person.

Bishop
insisted they meet somewhere that was very public, and she was glad. The news reports of women being murdered by men they had met online were not lost on her. She recalled being so relaxed just sitting and talking with Bishop. It was the best date she had ever had. As she thought back, she smiled, realizing Bishop had played her like a violin.

They met at a popular coffee shop in a good part of town
. He passed the first test by being on time. He passed the second test because he looked like his picture. He kept his eyes above her neck and was on the way to acing the initial exam. They ordered coffee and found a table. He did not pull out her chair, nor did he pay for her drink, and that was a bit of a surprise. She decided to take charge of the situation and said, “I know the primary reason why you are here. You want in my pants, and I want to tell you right now, it is not going to happen… tonight. I am not that kind of girl.”

“Good
,” he said without pausing. “I have had my fill of casual sex. I was hoping you were not looking for a quick lay. I found out long ago that sex without chemistry is like ‘woo-hoo,’ but sex with chemistry is ‘woooooooo-hoooooooooo.’ I’m the kind of guy who takes a little time to develop chemistry, so if you think you can behave yourself, we should get along just fine.”

They talked about so many topics that night that she couldn’t remember
them all. After finishing a third cup, Bishop had looked at his watch and said, “I have to get going. I’m leaving on a business trip for a few days. If you would like to go on a real date, I would very much like to see you again. Send me an email after you think it over.”

He had walked Terri back to her car and never even hinted
at wanting to “escort her home.”

Sleep had not been an option
that night as she continued to replay their entire conversation over and over in her mind. She finally settled on what had attracted her to Bishop the most - he spoke very little about himself. She realized that he had continually asked questions about her and then listened. It had been refreshing. Without thinking, she got up at 1:48 AM and sent Bishop an email saying she would love to go on a date. After she hit the “send” button, she cursed herself for doing so in the middle of the night.
That’s not how you play hard-to-get,
she thought.

They
went on a few dates and after leaving a lousy movie before it finished, decided to get a late night burger. There was a surprisingly long line of people for the late hour, probably due to the movie crowd. As they stood in line waiting, three young men came in wearing gang colors and spouting foul language. Bishop looked at the three and was amused because they reminded him of Larry, Curley, and Moe. He leaned over and whispered his observation to Terri, and she admitted the similarities made the three thugs appear less threatening. Moe was clearly the leader and was quite annoyed with his inept comrades. Curley was a big dude with a shaved head who kept looking around the room as if he were lost. Larry was simply fascinated with the dollar menu and paid no attention to anything else. At one point, Bishop caused Terri to laugh out loud when he whispered, “Watch out for the two finger eye poke and the double slap – they are experts you know.”

After
their language drew a few dirty looks from other customers, Moe said, “We ain’t got time for this shit,” and proceeded to cut in line. Terri watched as Bishop tensed and noticed his hands had balled into tight fists. She was just about to suggest they eat somewhere else, when he reached out and touched Curley on the shoulder.

I
n a nerdy, super whiney voice Bishop complained, “Excuse me. You are cutting in line. You probably don’t realize it, but it is extremely rude and makes the other customers uncomfortable.”

Curley
didn’t say a word for a second. He half turned, sized Bishop up, and then undressed Terri with his eyes. Curley showed backbone, and threatened, “Mind your own business, Old School. Fuck off before me and my boys take your lady outside and have a l’il fun with her.”

Bishop turned, looked at her
, and smiled. He nodded toward the exit door and made a motion with his hand indicating she should “go over there.” She hesitated at first, but he winked and repeated the signal. She thought they were going to leave and walked over to the door to wait on Bishop. Curley had turned his back to Bishop and was focusing his attention on the menu above the counter. As soon as Bishop saw Terri was clear, he took a deep breath and moved.

He grabbed
Curley by the belt with one hand and the jacket collar with the other. Bishop lifted up and back on the belt, while pushing down and forward on Curley’s collar. Curley reacted as expected, throwing out his arms to maintain his balance. The moment Bishop felt the man’s weight shift, he pushed hard with both legs The helpless Curley was propelled head first into the cash register, sending it flying from the counter. Bishop did not even take the time to face Moe. Just as he released Curley, Bishop’s foot shot out and struck Moe right on the side of the knee with a savage kick. Terri heard a loud “yelp” and saw Bishop spin and hit Moe squarely in the solar plexus with the heel of his hand. Moe went down, unable to hold his knee and gasp for breath at the same time. Larry took all this in, but didn’t move. Bishop took one step toward him and said, “The manager is probably calling the cops right now. Do you want to hang around and talk to them?”

Larry
started helping his friends up and out of the restaurant while Bishop stood over them and watched, even offering to assist a few times.

After they had left,
Bishop walked toward Terri and said, “I’m really not that hungry, are you?” They left quickly as well.

For the first 15 minutes
of the drive home, neither of them spoke. She finally could not handle the silence anymore and said, “What was
that
all about?”

“Terri, I think you are a wonderful girl
and hope you have similar feelings for me. There is one thing you should know about me – I cannot handle personal injustice. It does something to me, and it always has. I think it started in elementary school with playground bullies, and it just has always been that way. It gets me into, um, well, uncomfortable situations now and then. I hope you can accept that about me.”

She had to laugh at the phrase “uncomfortable situations
,” and that broke the ice. The rest of the trip home, she tried to deal with the mixture of emotions going through her. Was he a danger to her? Was he a danger to others? Was he overly confident? Could she handle being with someone who did not have a healthy aversion to confrontation?

In the end, she decided to continue to see
ing him and as she looked back, believed that was one of her best decisions ever.