Chapter 7:

The Fallen Heroes

Howie stayed with Brian until he was asleep again. He had actually begun to doze off himself. His eyelids felt like lead. A nurse came in to check on them, and found him almost asleep. She touched his arm and told him she was going to take him to his new room with A.J. Howie nodded sleepily, and gently tried to pry his hand away from Brian’s grasp. Once that was done, he was wheeled out. He was asleep before he even reached his room. With some help, he was moved from the wheelchair to his new bed, in a double with A.J. He did not stir until an hour later, when A.J. woke up again.

A.J. lay there for several minutes, assessing his situation. “Howie? Are you there?”

His voice sounded raspy and confused. All he really remembered from before was that something had been terribly wrong, but Howie had been there with him, so it was all right. He was tired and he hurt all over, but he felt safe. Cautiously he turned his head to the side and saw his friend sleeping nearby. He was instantly concerned about all of the cuts and bruises, and the cast on his arm. Taking no real notice of his own injuries, he tried to get up to go see what was the matter with him. He winced in surprise when his side felt like it was suddenly lit by a torch.

“What the…” he looked in surprise at the tubes coming out of his arms and the cast around his lower arm. His torso was incredibly stiff.

“What the hell?” he said aloud. His voice surprised him. He almost couldn’t use it.

A nurse poked her head in. “Welcome back,” she said with a smile. “Why on earth are you sitting up? You need to be laying down Mr. McLean.”

“What happened to my friend over there? Is he all right? He looks terrible!” A.J. coughed painfully. Howie stirred in his bed, and opened his eyes.

“I look better than you do, if I do say so myself,” he replied with a tired smile.

“I can’t even get up,” A.J. said in wonder, easing back against the pillows. The nurse fiddled with his IVs, and adjusted his pain medication. “I’ll have the doctor come in to see you right away to answer your questions.”

“Can it be later? I’m exhausted. Shit!” She nodded and left the room.

“I’m not surprised, with that stunt you pulled earlier,” Howie said dryly.

“Earlier?”

“Why do you think I’m so tired? I was trying to keep you from jumping out of your skin.”

“I don’t understand, I can’t even move,” he said sleepily.

“You sure could earlier.”

“Right,” he mumbled, drifting off again.

“I’m glad you are doing better,” Howie said in a small voice. “I was so scared…”

The tremble A.J. heard in Howie’s voice brought back the dim memory of his fear. His eyes opened wide again. “I was scared too…” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but the traces of that fear that had permeated him so completely were there. Howie noticed the sudden change in his voice, and attempted to sit up.

“You ok?”

A.J. exhaled shakily, and turned his head to face Howie. “Something really bad happened to us, didn’t it?”

Howie nodded tearfully. “Yeah. Something bad happened.”

“Where are the others?”

Howie couldn’t answer. All he could do was cry. Being the strong one was all of the sudden too much for him, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was usually Kevin’s job anyway. He didn’t want it. He hated himself for that thought, but there was nothing he could do.

A.J. lay back again, his eyes wet. He chose Brian’s course of action, and pushed away reality for a little while longer, not quite willing to accept it. He waited for sleep to take him.

* * *

“No, Mr. Dorough is not able to answer any questions,” a hospital rep repeated for the hundredth time.

The world had been screaming for answers, and the hospital finally agreed to a quick press conference, with hospital reps only, once permission was obtained from family members.

“I thought you said he was awake!” someone shouted.

“Howie Dorough is fully conscious and is aware of what has happened. Although his injuries were not quite as severe as some of the others, he has been through a great shock these past few days. The only visitors he’s been able to receive are his family members. He is not strong enough for anything more than that. This has been a very difficult three days.”

“What is the status of the others?” another member of the press yelled over the buzz of the crowd.

“The Carters and the Richardsons have asked that I not release any details about their sons’ condition,” he started, trying to ignore the angry mutterings of the crowd. “All I can say is that they are both still in critical. We are hoping from the best.”

“Will they be able to perform again?”

“I hardly think that is a question that should be addressed at this time. Next question?”

“What about Brian Littrell and A.J. McLean?”

“Mr. McLean and Mr. Littrell have both been drifting in and out of consciousness. Neither has been awake for any significant amount of time. As of right now, their physical prognosis is looking pretty good. Brian has been told what has happened, A.J. has not.”

“When will we be able to talk to Brian?”

“Not any time soon. He’s had an extremely rough time of it.”

“Why hasn’t A.J. been told about what happened?”

“We had some difficulties with him when he woke up…”

“What kind of difficulties?” someone interrupted.

“I’m not at liberty to say. But we are being very careful with him. We want to make this as easy on these young men as possible.”

“When will we be able to speak with any of the Backstreet Boys themselves?”

“That all depends on them and their doctors. We have not mentioned anything to any of them about the public since their admittance here, and I doubt it has crossed any of their minds. Dr. Westin, who is overseeing their care, has promised that at the appropriate time he will hold another press conference to give more of the answers you are looking for. That is all I can say for now.”

The mob of people began shouting in protest, but the spokesman quickly left the stage.

He marveled at the crowd that had gathered all around the building. Security had forced everyone well away from the emergency doors and all of the other entryways, but there were still people everywhere. Most of them were young girls, but he saw people of all ages. Some of them were standing, some of them were sitting, and many of them held lit candles and photos of the Backstreet Boys. Their music could be heard everywhere. Some people were crying and hugging, and other had joined hands to pray. Although the rep was annoyed at the vultures that demanded information and a terrible invasion of privacy, he couldn’t help but be touched by the love that he could feel everywhere. He’d never seen this kind of tragedy bringing out devotion of this magnitude. There were signs with Bible quotes, and people praying. Not even just for the Boys, but for each other. And it wasn’t just here, he had found out. Similar displays were being reported all over the country, and even the world. It was amazing. These men had touched the lives of countless people, and there was no way any of these fans were going to let their heroes down.

***

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