Chapter 5:

Lost and Found

When Howie awoke he felt completely drained. This surprised him, for he had slept for several hours. Wasn’t sleep supposed to have the opposite effect? Then the memory of all that had happened came rushing back at him. He looked over to see Pollyanna asleep in a chair, and he called to her softly. She awoke immediately.

“How do you feel?” she asked him, coming over to his bedside.

“Like shit,” he replied truthfully.

She smiled slightly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually, there is. I need to see them. One of them, at least.”

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Can you get a nurse to get a wheelchair or something?”

Pollyanna sighed. “There’s no reasoning with you, is there?”

“Please?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Anything for you, Howie.” She came back a few minutes later with Dr. Westin.

“Howie, I would let you go see them, but now is really not the best time. Mr. Littrell woke up not too long ago, but he’s not ready to see anyone. You have all been through a lot, but he is not handling any of this well at all. We allowed his family in for a few moments, but even that probably wasn’t a good idea. He’s still not very aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t really comprehend all that has happened, and he’s not strong enough to hear it. We keep having to sedate him.” He paused for a moment. “Does Brian tend to be on the sensitive side?”

“Yes, he does.” Howie answered quickly. He frowned for a moment, and thought. Then his eyes went wide. “The fight!”

Dr. Westin had been turning to leave, but he stopped quickly. “What was that? Are you remembering something from the accident?”

Howie spoke slowly, trying to separate the mess of thoughts he had swimming around in his head. “Brian and Nick had a fight. They’re best friends, they never yell at each other like they did then. I don’t remember what was said, but it really upset him. Brian, I mean. He tried not to act like it, but it did. I don’t think any of us saw Nick after that. Kevin tried to talk to him, but I don’t know if he got anything out of him. That’s all I remember.”

Westin frowned. “Well that could very well be a part of our problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever has Brian so agitated is something that is very important to him. Even his subconscious won’t let go of it. Deep down he knows that something has happened to all of you, and it happened when he was feeling upset over things he’s said to Nick.”

Howie’s breath quickened. “Do you think he feels guilty? Is that why he won’t snap out of it?”

“It’s hard to say,” Westin said carefully. “But he has been through a terrible ordeal, mental and physical. I understand that he has a history of heart trouble as well.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Howie twitched anxiously.

“Hmm. The real world is a terrifying thing for him to face right now. Hopefully we can make him realize that he can pull through if he tries too.” Before it kills him, Weston thought silently.

“What if I talked to him?”

“I can see where that might be helpful, but right now it is probably not a good idea. I promise you that once we get a little more progress from him we will bring you to him.”

“What about any of the others?” Howie asked desperately.

“I know this is hard for you, but you have to be patient. The best thing for you and for them is to get some rest. I’m putting my foot down.”

Frustrated, Howie jerked his head away. He wanted to hit something, and hit it hard. But he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t see how foolish that would be. He would just have to wait.

* * *

A.J. was dreaming. He couldn’t see much in the way of images, but the loneliness he felt invaded his soul so deeply that he thought he was going to die from it. That is, until the pain came. It was agonizing and relentless. The pits of Hell would have been more enticing. He would have given anything to make it stop, but nothing would have. It was unbearable! How could such a fragile body suffer so much? And it wouldn’t let him die. That was all he wanted, to die. He knew it was the only thing that would make the pain stop. He began to yell, but that only made it worse...

He came awake with a jerk. Reality rushed at him so forcefully that it overwhelmed him. He felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing him all over his body, and he screamed. Two nurses rushed into his room, and A.J. panicked. He jerked upright in his bed, his eyes darting about wildly. Both nurses halted, and one approached slowly. She opened her mouth to say something, but A.J. never gave her the chance.

“No!” he shrieked, and cornered himself against the wall.

“Mr. McLean, it’s ok,” she tried to say soothingly to him. But she allowed the fear she felt for his safety to flicker across her face, and A.J. saw it.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted, and flung his arm at a tray of equipment nearby. The contents of the tray went flying and landed with a clatter on the floor. The second nurse darted out of the room to page a doctor.

* * *

Howie had been trying to read a magazine that his sister had brought him, but he was unable to concentrate on it. He had slept for several hours, and earlier in the day he had visited with his father and brother, but now his family had gone to find some dinner and to get some sleep. Now he had nothing but his thoughts. Suddenly Dr. Westin hurried into his room, worry etched in his face.

“What is it?” Howie asked, alarmed. “What happened?”

“Howie, we need your help. Are you up to it?”

“Tell me what happened!” he demanded.

“A.J. woke up. He is giving us trouble. I would like for you to come and see if you can calm him down.”

“Take me there!” Howie said, worry overcoming him. The doctor and an orderly helped ease him into a wheelchair, and they took him off down the hall to the elevator.

* * *

He could hear A.J. hollering all the way down the hall. There was no mistaking him. The nurses seemed in chaos. Had the circumstances been any different, Howie would have thought the situation funny. But as he reached the door, a horrifying sight met him. A.J. had ripped the IVs out of his arms and hands, and torn a bandage off of his face. It oozed blood where the stitches had been disturbed. It looked as if he had torn the cast around his hand and lower arm part ways off. He was crouched in a chair on the opposite side of his room, and had seized one of the sharper instruments that had fallen on the floor. He brandished it threateningly. How he had gotten to the chair was beyond Howie, for he could see the terrible burn on his knee that Dr. Westin had been referring to. As it was, he was resting all of his weight on his good leg. He was screaming continually at them.

“Get away from me!” he cried over and over. His raspy voice made it sound that much worse. But it was not any of this that concerned Howie. It was his eyes. They were ablaze with a primal fire that made him almost unrecognizable. Howie’s blood ran cold, and he was actually afraid that A.J. might stab him. His eyes darted rapidly back and forth, trying to look at everyone, but not really seeing anything. Howie was in plain view, but A.J. didn’t know him. He couldn’t know him. It took Howie a moment to realize exactly what was wrong with him, and how deep it was, because it seemed so unfathomable.

A.J. was scared to death.

It wasn’t just fear or a desire to be difficult. It was absolute terror. His whole body was trembling, and if someone couldn’t reach him soon, he would collapse. Howie had never seen anything like it before, and to see this happening to his friend just killed him. He had to help him, but his own fear and the shock of this foreign person that had once been his friend raving in front of him made his feet turn to stone. He couldn’t make himself go to him.

“A.J!” Howie said brokenly, attempting to gain his attention. Summoning every last drop of courage that he could find within himself, he stood up painfully from his wheelchair. A.J.’s response was instinctive and immediate. He reached up for the blinds on the window and jerked them hard, intending to fling them. They came crashing down, and in his panicked attempt to get out of the way he stumbled off of the chair and fell heavily to the ground with a yell. As soon as he hit he scrambled upright and crouched in the corner, gasping for breath.

“No!” Howie whimpered, which only seemed to put A.J. more on the defensive. He jabbed forward with the instrument, and Howie reeled backwards.

“Oh, God!” Howie gasped. His ribs screamed in protest, and he felt short of breath. His heart raced, and his whole body began to shake. A nurse made a move to help him, but it caused A.J. to try and claw his way up the wall. Howie couldn’t stop the tears of sorrow and fear that built up inside. Where was the A.J. he had known for so long? Surely he was still there somewhere! But if he was, there was no indication in the shadow of a man that he saw before him.

“A.J., please stop this. It’s me, this is Howie!” He cried desperately.

“Keep talking to him,” the doctor whispered. Howie dropped slowly to the floor in front of him, and tried not to sob when A.J. flinched violently away.

“It’s going to be ok, man. Listen to me. It’s me. Howie. You know me. I’m not gonna hurt you. You have got to believe me. I’m your friend. I promise I won’t hurt you. Just… please stop this!” The words were coming quickly, but strangely calm. It was funny, because Howie’s own panic level was skyrocketing.

“A.J. It’s me. You’re going to be ok. Trust me. Just trust me. You’ve trusted me for years. There’s no reason for you to stop now. I’m here for you. All you have to do is see that.”

A.J. paused, and though he was breathing heavily and the wild look had not yet left his eyes, he had stopped screaming. Howie racked his brain for something, anything that might reach him. He did the first thing he thought of. He began to sing softly.

“I’ll be the one, I’ll be the light where you can run to make it all right,”

It hurt to sing, but he knew it had to work. He was in agony now, but there was no way he was going to leave A.J. like this. Even if it meant he would die right there on the floor, he wouldn’t allow himself to go until he had found A.J.

“I’ll be the one who will make all your sorrows undone.

I’ll be the light, when you feel like there’s nowhere to run.

I’ll be the one to hold you, and make sure that you’ll be all right.

You need me like I need you…”

“We can share our dreams coming true…” A.J. whispered softly, a solitary tear falling down his face. For the first time, A.J. seemed to look at Howie, instead of through him.

“Howie?” he murmured, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“It’s me, buddy. You’re going to be ok.” Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep him away.

“Oh, God…” A.J. began to sob. Howie reached out to embrace him, and A.J. grabbed on to him tightly.

“You scared me…” Howie said, the reality of what had just happened finally catching up to him. “God you scared me…”

“I hurt… everywhere,” A.J. moaned. All of the fight and desperation had left him. “Why does everything hurt so much?”

“We were in an accident,” Howie told him quietly.

“It hurts…”

Howie held him close, feeling his body tremble uncontrollably. Despite his own pain, he would have gladly born what his friend was going through now to take it away from him. He couldn’t bear to watch someone go through it.

“I know,” he told him. “The doctors are going to help you. Will you let them? That’s all they want to do, help you.”

A.J. nodded shakily. “Just make it stop,” he begged. “Please make it stop.”

“They’ll make it stop. I’ll make sure they do. I’m right here A.J., and no one is going to hurt you. They’d have to get through me first. You’re ok. You’re not alone.”

Dr. Westin approached them slowly. A.J. gripped Howie’s arm tightly.

“You’re not alone,” Howie repeated. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will you let me help you?” Westin asked softly.

“Just make the pain go away…”

He let out an agonized cry that almost hurt Howie more than the entire scene earlier. Now the real A.J. was here, and he felt the pain.

“Ok. I’ll do the best that I can. Do you trust me?”

A.J. nodded weakly, never relaxing his grip on Howie.

He slid a needle into his arm and injected some medicine. After a few moments, A.J. relaxed against his friend in a deep sleep.

Dr. Westin looked up at Howie. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to. He’s my friend. I would do anything for him.”

“Yes, I believe you would.”

Howie released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “What made him do that?”

“There was a mix-up on his pain meds,” Westin said uncomfortably. “He didn’t get his last round of them, and he woke up in a great deal of pain. and that’s the way he reacted to it. I don’t ever think I’ve seen that response from someone before.”

Howie’s eyes flashed angrily. “So because someone screwed up A.J. had to go through that? That could have killed him! What is wrong with you people? How dare you!” He began to struggle to his feet, ignoring the fact that he was exhausted and couldn’t. Dr. Westin reached out to help him, but Howie jerked away from him.

“Howie, please. It was a terrible thing. I promise you action will be taken, but you have to realize that things happen. Let me help you to your chair. You need to go back to your room and sleep. I’m sorry I had to ask you to do this, but I don’t think there was any other way. I’m going to try and move you in here, because I want A.J. to have you close by when he wakes up.

“Damn right.” Howie growled, but allowed the doctor and another nurse to help him.

“Take it easy. How do you feel? You’re looking pretty pale.”

“I don’t feel that hot,” Howie murmured. Abruptly, all he wanted to do was lie down. It suddenly seemed too much to ask for him to do so much as sit up. “I really need to lie down,” he said weakly, feebly trying to brace himself somehow in his chair. Nausea washed over him, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he was whisked back to his room.

***

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