The Legend (5 page)

"No, that's fine."
My father responded while embracing my mother and escorting her out the room.

"Duane, I want you to meet Detective Wu.  She works in the homicide unit."

"Homicide?"
I inquired. 
"Did someone die?"

"Duane, you don't remember what happened at all?"
 
She asked.

"No I don't, who died?" 
I persisted to inquire. 
"Was it one of the employees I work with?"

"No, it wasn't them.  Duane, I'm going to play back a recording.  It's from a
cellphone that was recording during the shooting.  It may jog your memory a bit." 
Detective Wu said while retrieving a small tape recorder from her blazer pocket.  She pressed the play button.

"Hey Duane!"  "Lani, what's up?"... 

"Wait, wait.  That's my girlfriend's voice.  OH GAWD PLEASE NO!  PLEASE TELL ME SHE'S OKAY!"
I blurted out interrupting the recording. 

"Duane please, try to listen to the recording." 
Detective Wu pleaded.

"You like my new phone?"  "I guess.  Why are you holding it up like that?"  "Because I'm recording you.  It has a built in video camera.  Isn't that cool?"  "Lani, c'mon, put the phone away."  "C'mon smile for..." 
(In the background I heard a loud banging noise and the sound of glass shattering) 
"YOU THOUGHT WE FORGOT ABOUT YOU MUTHAFUCKA!"  "WHOA, WHOA!" 
(I then heard some rumbling.  Then I heard three gunshots followed by screaming and more rumbling) 
"PLEASE MAN PLEASE!"  "Hoyt!  Let’s go!"  "You snitching mutha..." 
(Then I heard another shot, the screaming grew louder.  It was followed by two more shots and the cries suddenly stopped)
"Call nine one one!"
(The voice sounded like Mr. Delancey’s)
“Oh my God, they're dead.  I think they're dead.  Duane!  Duane..."

"DID HE KILL HER?" 
I growled.

"Duane, Lolani is... S
he's dead!"

Never in my life have I
ever felt a surge so strong; so filled with fury.  Anger overwhelmed me and I had no control over it.  I suddenly let out a roar so loud and disturbing the detectives lurched from my bed.  My concerned parents, the nurses and the doctor rushed back into my room. 
"Get security!" 
My cries convinced the staff to put me in restraints.  Just as I lunged out of the bed, I was met by able-bodied guards that tackled me back onto it. 
"NO!"
I hollered while trying to fend them off.  My attempts were short lived as all four of them collectively managed to confine me.  They fastened my wrists and ankles to the bed railings with padded leather restraints.  But my roars persisted.  My parents' efforts to calm me down were useless.  I remained combative and struggled with the restraints until I managed to loosen one of them up.  The security team continued wrestling with me as the doctor retrieved a syringe and injected it into the intravenous drip feed.  Moments later I felt unsteady and weak.  Then I drifted off.

I came to after the doctor flipped a light switch on.  The fluorescent light fixture is directly above my bed and it’s awfully intense.  It triggered a headache.  I must’ve been out for a couple of hours.  I don’t feel as angry anymore.  Whatever he injected into the intravenous drip feed must’ve calmed me down. 

The doctor
sauntered in with four individuals.  All but the doctor wore disposable 4ply face masks.  The four of them also sported white lab coats but theirs were much shorter than the doctors.  I’m guessing they were interns.  The individuals approached my bed and stood over me.  All four pairs of assorted eye shapes and colors peered at me like a lab rat.  It was irritating. One of the interns took hold of the hand controller from my side and adjusted my bed.  The back rose until I was just about sitting upright.  He then removed a pen light from his pocket and shined it into my eyes.  I attempted to smack his hand away but suddenly realized I was still in restraints.

“Get the fuck away from me!” 
I growled at him.  However, he persisted to aim the light into my eyes.

“All right, that’s enough guys.  I’ll meet you in the hallway.” 
The doctor directed.  The intern continued for another three seconds then followed the rest out of the room.

“Duane, can I ask you a question?” 
The doctor suddenly inquired while examining my vitals on the heart monitor.

“What?”

“If I took these leather restraints off your wrists and ankles, what is the first thing you would do?” 
He sauntered towards my bedside.  His right index finger and thumb caressed the stubble around his chin while his arms crossed over his stomach.  The inquisitive doctor seemed interested in hearing my response. 

“These restraints are the only reason why the man that killed her is still alive.”

“Do you really think retribution will make you feel better?” 
The doctor asked.

“I’m certain it will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because
I can’t feel any worse than what I’m feeling now.”

After the doctor readjusted
my bed, he turned the light off and strolled out of my room. I tried to continue sleeping. The recording, however, lingers in my head and it’s haunting.  Every time I dozed off I was startled awake by her cries and the resounding gunshots.  When I finally drifted off I relived the harrowing events in my dreams; pleading to the gunman to
"Let her live!  Just shoot me!" 
But he still refuses and it plays out the same way. 

The doctor prescribed me with antipsychotic and antidepressant medications.  It's supposed to suppress my hallucinations and tempers.  I hate having to take the prescriptions.  It feels like I'm being muzzled.  My girlfriend was murdered and I can't even grieve.  I missed her funeral because I was getting a bullet surgically dislodged from my brain.  The bastard shot her two more times after he shot me. 
"TWO MORE GOT-DAMN TIMES!"
  He wanted to be certain she was dead.  He executed her.  Hoyt!  He’s still on the loose.  He'd be lucky if the police find him before I do.

I'm scheduled for physical therapy in the morning.  I have been confined to this bed for a week.  I'm eager to have these restraints removed.  It's mortifying to have a nurse put a bed pan underneath me so I can remove my bowels or have them hold a plastic container while I urinate in it.  Even having them scrub my body with a sponge, brush my teeth and feed me like I'm an old helpless man humiliates me.

Later on
at night, I awakened from a nap and found myself lying on the frigid concrete ground in a narrow downtown alley. 
"How did I get here?"
  It was the typical downtown alley infested with rats scurrying through sizable piles of garbage bags.  There were potholes the size of canyons that I’m certain have busted many car tires.  There also was an abhorrent stench of urine.  It's drizzling but the distant flashes of lightning in the black clouds reveal an approaching thunderstorm.  I'm still wearing this ridiculous hospital gown and I'm bare foot. 

Suddenly I got an earful of wet footsteps behind me.  I spun around and caught sight of a man wearing a black
balaclava ski mask clenching a sawed-off rifle.  It's Hoyt.  Just as our eyes met he lurched.  The rifle fumbled out of his hands and plunged into a puddle.  He took a couple of subtle steps backwards while holding out his quivering hands before him.  Then he pivoted around and bolted into the aphotic alley.  I leaped onto my feet, retrieved the rifle and pursued after him; following the sounds of his fleeting steps splattering against the wet ground.

Hoyt fled until he ran into a sudden dead end.  A lofty brick wall impeded his path.  He stopped before it and gawked at the towering layers of bricks as if he was defeated.  He then spun around quivering and flattened his back against the wall. 

"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" 
He begged while snatching the mask off his face and clasping it in-between his folded hands. 

I sauntered towards Hoyt with my right arm extended and aimed the rifle at his forehead.  He suddenly faltered to his knees quivering and pleading for forgiveness.  I stopped a couple of steps from him and watched him beg.  The rain caused his spiky mohawk to collapse and red dye ran down his face.  I can't even muster up the slightest bit of remorse for him.  I drew back the safety mechanism.  He flinched and shielded his face with his arms and hands.  At that moment, a
sizeable shadow of a figure scampered along the brick wall.  I quickly spun around and surveyed the alley.  There was no one there.  I turned back and began to depress the trigger.  Suddenly the shadow returned along the lofty wall.  It broadened as the footsteps drew closer.  I turned around again and caught sight of the towering inky caped figure emerging out of the darkness and peering at me with his devilishly red eyes; The Legend. 
"Get out of here!" 
I demanded.  He continued advancing with his cloak flowing off his shoulders and disposing on the ground in a perfect crescent. 
"I swear I'll shoot you too!"
  Without warning, The Legend swiftly sprinted towards me with his rampantly flailing cape trailing him.  I fired a shot at him but he somehow managed to elude it.  Once within range, he leaped in the air and tackled me onto the wet ground.  The sawed-off rifle was knocked out of my hands.  It drifted along the slippery concrete until it plunged through a sewer drain.  We wrestled until I racked up enough strength to hurl him off of me.  I made an effort to get to my feet but was suddenly bashed by a knee to my face.  The stunning blow caused me to stagger.  The Legend then clenched my gown and pinned me up against the brick wall.  He drove his forearm into my throat.  It hampered my breathing a bit.  While being held, Hoyt got off his knees and took off running until he vanished into the dark alley.  I struggled to break The Legend's grip but it was too firm. 
"Why are you letting him get away?"
  I gasped.  He didn't respond. 
"Get off me, he's getting away!" 
He refused to acknowledge me.  I clenched his mask and snatched if off his face.  Before I could get a glimpse of him, I was suddenly awakened by the doctor.

The security guard unfastened the restraints from my wrist and ankles.
"Can I use the restroom?" 
I asked.  The doctor nodded his head.  I climbed out of the bed and stepped onto the frigid white tiled floor.  The nurse gave me a hand and assisted me in.  Once inside, I flipped the light switch and looked into the mirror.  I haven't seen my face in over a month.  It was buried in a dark coarse beard.  My head was cleanly shaved with a five inch scar going alongside of it.  Then I took notice of my eyes.  They were bloodshot; piercing red demonic-like eyes.  Although rather unusual, it was intriguing.

"You must be wondering about your eyes?" 
The doctor assumed as I stepped out of the bathroom.

"What happened to them?"
I inquired.

"The trauma from the gunshot wound caused the blood vessels in your eyes to burst." 

"Is it permanent?" 

"I can't say at this time." 
The doctor answered. 
"There are other side-effects you should know of.  Like we mention you won't experience fear like you used to.  Also your aggression will sometimes be uncontrollable as you noticed.  You will experience hallucinations as well.  You might not be able to decipher what is real and what isn't.  Duane, these combinations could make you a violent person without proper medication.  I strongly recommend you take the prescriptions as prescribed.  It is imperative.  I don't want you hurting yourself or someone else.  A man that knows no fear is a dangerous one." 

Detective Bernhardt and Wu returned to the hospital later on in the day.  They asked about the shooting once more.  A large portion of my memory has returned but the tiny details they inquire about are still vague.  Trying to remember causes a scathing headache. 
"All right Duane.  We won't bother you anymore.  Just give us a call if something comes back to mind." 
Detective Wu advised while handing me her business card.

After enduring several days of physical therapy, I was finally being released from the hospital.  Before the doctor signed my discharging papers, he insisted I ingest my medication while he watched.  After downing the pills, he reiterated to my parents
"It's imperative he continues to take the medication." 
The hallucinations have stopped.  My demeanor has also become tranquil.  I don't care for the medication though.  I feel like I'm being muzzled. 

In order to be closely monitored I had to move back to my parent's home in Brooklyn, New York.  Before leaving Capitol City, my parents drove me to Lolani's grave.  I never got a chance to tell her
"Goodbye."
 

My p
arents stayed behind while I made my way to her resting place.  After hiking up a grassy hill, I caught sight of a grave site with white and orange carnations draped over a marble headstone.  It's hers.  I'd thought I'd be able to feel some kind of emotion; sadness, anxiety or anger.  However, there was nothing.  My eyes couldn't even muster a tear.  This medication doesn't allow it.  I'm just a blank canvass.