Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood (6 page)

“Let’s sit here for a moment before you try to talk to her, Mr. Drake.”

They sat a few feet from the bed, Boone never taking his eyes off Nikki, the tubes, and the quietly humming machines.

“Let me tell you exactly what we’re dealing with here, sir. Your wife is in profound shock due to massive shifts of fluid. Her body is fighting a hopeless, losing battle to heal itself. Normally, with a major burn victim, the first thing we do is establish respiration and circulation. Frankly, we couldn’t do a tracheotomy because the flesh around her neck was virtually vaporized. We couldn’t administer intravenous fluids because her arms and legs were burned to the bone.

“We have oxygen being pumped in directly through her nasal cavity and down her traumatized esophagus and then we’ve threaded it directly to the lungs. The other tube is carrying the fluids and anesthetic, mostly to her stomach, which seems intact. Dr. Sarangan told us of your wish to try to converse with her, which I trust he told you is not likely. Nevertheless, seeing that there is no chance to save her, we did concentrate our efforts on her mouth and throat. Her tongue is intact, but she has no lips, so if she were to try to speak, you may not be able to understand her. And with the amount of sedation we are administering, there is no telling when or if she would be conscious.”

“I understand.”

“The machine is breathing for her, but the scar tissue already forming around her chest wall restricts expansion and would be painful if she could feel it. If she had any more skin to work with, we might have performed an escharotomy, searching for healthy tissue. The sad fact is, she has virtually none, except for where she cradled your son. And that’s not enough. I don’t know how else to say it, but your wife’s body was, for all practical purposes, burned to the skeleton. And had your neighbor not doused the flames, her internal organs would have been lost too. As it is, we are not entirely certain what is keeping her alive. And you have to know it won’t be long.”

“Her parents are coming more than 3,500 miles.”

“I can’t imagine they will get here in time to see her. I’m sorry.”

“So when can I try to talk to her?”

“The hallucinogenic narcoleptic we used for surgery should wear off in a few minutes. We will know when she attempts to move at all. I can assure you she will feel no pain. Whatever nerve tissue remains is being anesthetized by what is commonly referred to as a morphine drip, but which in this case is actually a morphine stream. See that bag there? It is essentially being poured into her. When she passes, it will be without discomfort and probably without even awareness.”

“So talking to her is useless?”

“The mind and body are remarkable instruments, Mr. Drake. There is evidence that hearing is sometimes the last sense to go. And we know from people who have come back from the brink of death that they have not only heard their loved ones’ good-byes, but they have also comprehended them, beyond all reason.

“I’m not going to sit here and promise that you will get to communicate anything meaningful to your wife, but if there is any chance, it will come within a few minutes after the sedative wears off. And while I don’t expect her to try to speak, if she does, you’ll need to listen very carefully. She suffered severe damage to her throat, but it is possible she could generate some kind of sound.”

Boone sat staring, still finding it hard to take in. How long had it been since he had been looking forward to a little lunch with Jack? Everything in his life had been smashed beyond recognition; nothing would ever again be the same. How could something like this happen without warning?

“Um, I have a question.”

“Anything.”

“If she’s on life support, how will we know when the end has come?”

“When to turn off the oxygen, you mean?”

Boone nodded.

“Those two monitors over there. One shows her pulse—elevated, of course, as her body struggles to stay alive—and the other shows brain activity. While she is clearly not conscious, she is still emitting brain waves. Those two readouts depend on each other. If her heart stops, her brain will soon follow. And vice versa.”

“Can’t you keep her heart beating artificially too?”

“Almost impossible in her condition, and there really is no benefit to it. It would only prolong the inevitable. The truth is, she should not have survived this trauma at all, and while we did everything we could to preserve her for this final good-bye, we’re all surprised she’s still with us.”

Boone looked down. “I see what Murari meant about not even wanting her to survive.”

Dr. O’Connor put a hand on his. “Oh yes, I’m sorry, but none of us wishes that on her. She would remain on the verge of death with every breath and would be unable to move, let alone do anything for herself. Hard as this is, the absolute best thing for your wife now is to pass.”

Boone sighed. “I sure appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I only wish we could have saved them both, Mr. Drake. Now, would you like me to stay with you, or . . .”

“No, I’m fine.” He reached for his wallet. “Let me show you what they looked like.”

“Oh, my! Beautiful. And he’s a doll.”

It was hard for Boone to look at the pictures.

“We’re monitoring everything from outside,” the doctor said. “And I’ll be close by. Just watch for some attempt to move, then say your good-byes. She is not likely to linger.”

Boone pulled his chair next to the bed and began scanning the monitors while also keeping an eye on Nikki. What had he told the doctor?
“I’m fine.”
What a laugh.

When there was no movement from Nikki for more than half an hour, Boone pulled the call cord and a nurse hurried in, followed by Dr. O’Connor. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just wondering. You said the anesthetic should have worn off by now.”

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” the doctor said as the nurse checked all the connections and changed the morphine bag. “I wish I could promise she would exhibit some animation, but I can’t. Her system may be protecting whatever reserves she has left by remaining asleep. And of course, there’s the morphine.”

“Could I wake her by talking to her?”

“That’s possible, I suppose, but you risk that any disruption might push her past the brink. Your best chance to communicate with her would be to wait.”

“But the longer I wait . . .”

“Mr. Drake, I don’t know the likelihood that she’ll rouse. I don’t recommend overt action, but I won’t forbid it either. As I’ve tried to make clear, it’s moment to moment, so . . .”

“I’ll wait.”

And the wait was excruciating. Every half hour until early evening, the nurse stepped in, sometimes accompanied by Dr. O’Connor. It became clear to Boone that people were waiting around long after their shifts were over. He wanted to tell them that he appreciated it but that they should feel free to go home.

At about six he poked his head out into the hall, where Jack was sitting with Pastor Sosa. They both quickly stood.

“Nothing yet,” Boone said, and over their shoulders he saw that the pastor’s wife and several of the church elders had congregated outside a waiting room down the hall. Boone noticed several uniformed officers from the 11th milling about too.

“I don’t know how long this is gonna be, Jack,” Boone said. “You should go, really.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Keller said. “I’d leave my partner at a time like this. Now shut up and get back in there, and keep us posted. Nobody’s goin’ nowhere.”

Just minutes after Boone returned and sat, Nikki moved her head a few inches. He leaped from the chair, and it was all he could do to keep from touching her. He leaned close. “Nikki?”

She stopped moving.

“Nikki, I love you. Thank you for being such a wonderful wife and mother. Thank you for loving me.”

He heard something raspy from deep in her throat.

“What is it, Nikki? Talk to me, baby.”

She seemed to hum; then came a sound like she was trying to clear her throat. With tubes running down her throat, it was no wonder. He leaned close and put his ear near her mouth.

“Josh,” she managed.

“Josh is fine,” he said. “You saved him. He’s going to be fine.”

She was silent a moment. Then, “Truth.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, babe. Now
you
have to work on getting better.”

“Boone.”

“I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

“Boone.”

“I’m here.”

She said two words he didn’t understand, and he asked her to repeat them.

“Not deaf.”

“I know.”

“Heard doctor.”

He didn’t know what to say. If she had been awake and heard Dr. O’Connor, she knew everything about her own condition.

“Ready,” she said.

“Ready?”

“Heaven.”

“Oh, honey, no. Your parents are on their way. We’ll work together—”

“Boone.”

“Yes.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “With all my heart.”

“Take care of Josh.”

“You know I will.”

“Good-bye.”

The whole point of this was to say good-bye, but now he couldn’t bring himself to say it. All he could say was, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Boone.”

“I’m here, babe.”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

5

The Valley

Boone watched the
MONITORS
, which still showed a pulse and brain activity, though Nikki was quiet. There was so much more he wanted to say, but she had plainly worn herself out.

He sat down and watched the numbers on the monitors begin to diminish. He pulled the call cord. Catherine O’Connor quickly entered alone.

“We talked,” he whispered. “She heard what you told me.”

The doctor grimaced. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

He nodded and pointed to the monitors. “Is this it?”

“I’m afraid so. I can’t say how long it will take. It’s up to you if you want to stay.”

“Of course I do.”

“And I assume you want no heroic measures taken.”

“Right.”

“Then I’ll leave you till it’s over. I’ll send someone in to replace the morphine again. The end will be painless.”

It was anything but painless for Boone, who sat waiting for the inevitable. Two agonizing hours later, Nikki’s heart monitor flatlined, and the brain wave machine began to beep. Dr. O’Connor swept in.

“With your permission,” she said kindly, “I’ll shut off the oxygen feed.”

“Will she be aware?”

“Cognition is gone, sir. You want to stay?”

Boone nodded and stood trembling as the doctor shut down the machines. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. Two nurses entered, one with Nikki’s chart. Dr. O’Connor made a few notes, glanced at the clock, and said, “Let’s call it. 8:48 p.m.”

“What happens to her now?” Boone said.

“She’ll be taken to our morgue until she’s picked up by a mortuary of your choosing.”

“Is that where my son is?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I need to see him.”

“Oh no, now I thought Dr. Sarangan told you—”

“No, I just mean, I assume he’s wrapped.”

“Of course.”

“I just need to see where he is.”

“That can be arranged. Give us a few minutes and we’ll put your wife next to him. I need to know who would be going down there with you.”

“Oh, uh, Jack Keller and Francisco Sosa. I’ll ask his wife, Maria, but she might not want to come.”

“Mr. Drake, you know you can remove your mask now. That was more for her sake than for yours. And you may also touch her now if you wish.”

Boone hesitated and Dr. O’Connor motioned to the nurses to follow her out.

And there he stood, before the bandaged, ravaged remains of his wife. He approached slowly and laid a hand softly on the bindings that covered her forearm.

“Nikki. Nikki. By now you know I lied about Josh. Forgive me. Take care of him till I see you again.”

Boone’s intuition about Maria had been right. She embraced him and asked if he minded if she declined.

“No, no, I understand.”

“You need a place to stay tonight?” she said. “We have a guest room and you’re more than wel—”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” Jack Keller said. “Already thought that through. I’ll take Boone to his place to get whatever he needs, and then he’s gonna stay with me at my apartment for a little while.”

Boone could have wept with relief. The last thing he wanted to do was stay with the pastor and his wife and their young family.

At the morgue, Sosa and Keller hung back as Boone peered through a window to where two gurneys had been set side by side. The gurneys were the same size, but of course the bodies were not. A morgue tag had been affixed to one of Nikki’s huge, mitted hands, and another was clipped to the tiny bundle next to her. Boone was grateful he had been talked out of looking past the wrapping on both bodies. This was enough. He knew it was them. He didn’t need to see the carnage their bodies had become. He would remember them the way they were—healthy, happy, gorgeous.

An attendant stood silently near the door, his head lowered.

“Would I be allowed to touch the baby, sir?” Boone said.