“Hello?”
Nick froze,
mutely clutching the phone receiver to his ear, his heart beating fast, as the
voice came again. It sounded confused at
first, then slightly annoyed.
“Hello?”
Say something! Nick urged himself, but he could only
stand there, dumbly, as the voice grew more irritated.
“Listen, if
you’re from the press, I don’t wanna talk to you. No comment.”
Then, with
a click, the line went dead.
Nick felt
himself deflate, as the breath he’d been holding escaped through a sigh.
***
Brian
flipped his cell phone shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. When he glanced up again, AJ and Howie were
both looking at him.
“No one
there,” he said, before they could ask.
“Probably someone from the media.” AJ
said what Brian had been thinking.
“They’ve got the balls to call, but not to speak, huh?”
Brian
offered a listless shrug in reply.
It was
evening now, and they were back at the hospital where they’d spent the previous
night. After Kevin’s mother had arrived
in the morning, they had gone back to the hotel to sleep, shower, and eat,
returning late in the afternoon, not quite well-rested, but somewhat refreshed. Kevin’s girlfriend, Kristin, had flown in
from Florida and spent the day there with Anne.
Leighanne had ridden with her back to the hotel to get settled for the
night, and the boys had decided that when Anne was done visiting, they would
have her do the same, while they stayed the night again.
In the
meantime, they visited Kevin in shifts, keeping a constant vigil at his bedside
to ensure that if he woke up, he would not be alone. His mother was with him now, in the ICU where
he’d been transferred following his surgery.
She would visit for fifteen minutes, then swap with one or two of the
guys. Howie and AJ had been in before
her, so it was Brian’s turn next.
He took out
his phone again to check the time and played with it absently as they waited,
no one talking much. When the fifteen
minutes were up, he rose from his seat and announced, “I’m goin’ in.” No one even replied, as he slid his phone
back into his pocket and walked out of the room.
Brian
followed the now familiar path to the Neuro ICU, a large room with windows that
looked out to the nurses station across the hall and ten beds that were divided
only by curtains that could be drawn between them. Kevin had a bed in the corner, furthest from
the windows and door, furthest from prying eyes, though the hospital security
was tight. Except for special
circumstances, only family was permitted to visit patients in the ICU, two at a
time, and only during certain hours.
Kevin’s “VIP” status must have made him a special circumstance because
his night nurse, Jennie, had allowed Brian, Howie, and AJ to visit all night.
Fame had
its perks.
The medical
staff was very professional, but Brian could tell that its younger members, at
least, knew exactly who they are. Nurse
Jennie, who couldn’t have been much older than him, offered him a sympathetic
smile as he passed the nurses station on his way into the room. He nodded in return, then entered through the
sliding door.
The ICU was
a bright, artificial world of fluorescent lights, sterile stainless steel, and
noisy medical equipment. The regular
beeping of heart monitors, the steady hiss of ventilators, and the strong smell
of antiseptics invaded Brian’s senses, triggering a memory of waking up from
his open-heart surgery the previous year.
His heart reacted, beginning to race with the surge of adrenaline that
shot through his body. His palms sweat,
as he approached Kevin’s bed.
His Aunt
Anne was still sitting at Kevin’s bedside, and she looked up as Brian
approached. Again, he was reminded of
waking up from surgery to the sight of his grandmother’s – her mother’s –
face. Though years younger, Aunt Anne
strongly resembled her then. She seemed
suddenly older, her face haggard and lined with worry. Brian hadn’t seen her look so distressed
since his Uncle Jerald had died.
He came to
stand beside her chair, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. She offered a weak smile and brought her own
hand up to rest on top of his. “I know
it’s time for me to go, huh?” she murmured, looking back at Kevin. “I just hate to leave him…”
“You don’t
have to leave right this minute,” said Brian.
“Stay as long as you need to.”
She patted
his hand and nodded, her eyes never straying from Kevin’s face. “You’re right, though. I should go back to the hotel. It’s not healthy to stay here round the
clock. I just hoped he would show some
signs of waking up before I left,” she added, sounding both wistful and
disappointed.
Brian
followed her line of sight to the bed.
He’d had time to adjust to Kevin’s appearance, but that didn’t make it
any easier to see his cousin – more like a second big brother to him these days
– the way he was. With his eyes closed,
his face slack and expressionless, and his head wrapped in a turban of gauze
that hid all of his dark hair and even his eyebrows, he didn’t look like
Kevin. He looked more like a wax figure,
a shell, something that resembled Kevin but had none of his spirit inside. The analogy disturbed Brian.
He looked
at the monitors over Kevin’s bed. One of
them displayed his vital signs – heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen level, all
things Brian had learned about during his own hospital stay. The other was an EEG monitor, which showed
rows of spiky lines that measured Kevin’s brain activity. Brian wasn’t sure how high or how often the
lines were supposed to peak; he only knew that as long as the lines weren’t
flat, it showed Kevin’s brain was still functioning.
He was
grateful for the spikes on the monitor, for without them, it was impossible to
know if Kevin was really alive at all.
His heart was beating, and he was still breathing on his own, but
otherwise, he seemed lifeless.
“He’s in a
deep coma,” the nurse, Jennie, had explained earlier, as he’d watched her move
around Kevin’s bed, checking different things and making notes on his chart. “We use a scale called the Glasgow Coma Scale
to measure his level of consciousness. I
have to check his eyes, his verbal response, and his movements, and he gets a
score for each of those categories. It
adds up to a possible fifteen points, which is the best score. You and I would score a fifteen.”
“So what’s
his score?” Brian had asked warily.
She talked
through the assessment as she did it.
“He doesn’t open his eyes when I call his name, so next I’ll try what we
call ‘painful stimuli’ – it’s not designed to hurt him, just to get a
reaction.”
Brian
watched as she leaned over the bed and rubbed her fist vigorously on the center
of Kevin’s chest, right over the breastbone.
His frown turned into an astonished smile when Kevin writhed on the bed,
drawing his arms up to his chest, his hands clenched into tight fists, which
curled together like a baby’s. “Well,
there’s a reaction! He moved,” Brian
said ecstatically. It was the first time
he’d seen Kevin do anything other than lie there all day.
Jennie
nodded, marking something on her clipboard.
“That’s a three for motor. But he
still didn’t open his eyes, so I have to give him a one for that.”
Brian
frowned again, watching Kevin’s face closely, hoping for his eyelids to
flutter, hoping for her to be wrong. But
nothing happened.
“And he
doesn’t speak or make any sounds, so he gets a one for verbal, too,” Jennie
went on, jotting this down as well.
“That means he’s a one-one-three… a five altogether.”
“Out of
fifteen?” Brian’s heart sunk. He’d gotten his hopes up, but those
plummeted, too. “That doesn’t sound like
a good score. Only thirty-three
percent.”
Jennie gave
a grim nod. “Anything below eight means
he’s in a coma. He’s in the middle of
the severe range, but not at the very bottom.”
“His score
will go up, won’t it? As his brain
heals?”
“We hope
so. It has a little already.” She glanced down at her clipboard. “His chart shows that when he was brought in
last night, his GCS was only a three, so a five is an improvement. At least he’s showing some motor function
now. Hopefully as the swelling in his
brain goes down, he’ll improve in the other categories, too.”
But several
hours later, Kevin still wasn’t opening his eyes or making any noise. He wasn’t even moving. Except for the steady rise and fall of his
chest, he was still and silent. It
didn’t look like Anne was going to get her wish that night. There was no reaction from him at all when
she finally rose from her chair and leaned over his bed to kiss his cheek.
She
straightened up, swiping at her eyes, and turned with a watery smile to
Brian. “Thank you for staying with
him. Call me if there’s any change, no matter what time it is.”
Brian
nodded. “I will, Aunt Anne.”
She gave
him a hug, tears spilling onto his shoulder, and promised to return first thing
in the morning. Then she was gone,
leaving Brian to sit in the chair next to Kevin’s bed. “Hey, cous,” he muttered, and he reached for
Kevin’s hand. His fist was still tightly
clenched, so Brian wrapped his own hand around it and rubbed the back of his
knuckles. Still, there was no response.
Brian
sighed. It was going to be another long
night.
As he sat,
listening to the steady blip of the heart monitor, his thoughts wandered to
Nick. As hard as it was to see Kevin in
such bad shape, it was even harder not knowing what kind of shape Nick was in,
not knowing where he was or even if he was still alive. Volunteers from all over the region had
joined the police in searching for him, as the story broke on the news. Though he didn’t like being harassed by the
press, Brian was grateful for the media attention the story was receiving. People all over the world would be praying
for them and looking for Nick, and he knew that the more prayers and pairs of
eyes they had on their side, the better.
Still, it
had been almost twenty-four hours since Nick had gone missing, and as far as he
knew, the police had no clues and no leads to follow. All they could do was keep searching and keep
praying, as the time ticked by, the hours running out. Brian racked his brain, as he had all night
and day, trying to imagine who could have done this and where they might have
taken Nick. But he’d come up with no
answers. There were plenty of people who
didn’t like the Backstreet Boys, but they had no real enemies he could
name. The police had asked about fans,
if they’d had any problems with stalkers.
Though he knew it had happened before to other celebrities, Brian
couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of one of their fans committing such
horrific acts. How would a fan have
gotten to them, anyway?
That was
one question he couldn’t stop asking himself.
How had they gotten in? Whoever
had attacked Kevin and Nick had done it from inside their hotel room. They’d gotten access somehow, a fact that
deeply unsettled Brian. He knew the
police were investigating; the hotel had still been crawling with them that
morning, as they continued to question employees and comb the crime scene. If they’d found out anything useful, they
hadn’t told the guys.
Brian
sighed, looking back at Kevin’s closed eyes.
He wonder if he’d gotten a good look at the person who had shot
him. “You need to wake up, Kev,” he
murmured, gripping Kevin’s fist tighter.
“We need to find out who did this so we can find Nick. He’s still missing. Whoever did this to you did something with
him, too, and if we don’t find him soon…”
He trailed off, not wanting to say the words aloud. He watched the lines on Kevin’s monitors,
hoping for any sign his cousin had heard and understood him. But there was no change. No change at all.
He let go
of Kevin’s hand and sat back in his chair, bowing his head and clasping his
hands to his chest to silently pray. He
prayed for Kevin, and he prayed for Nick.
He prayed that, by some miracle, Kevin would wake up, Nick would be
found alive, their attacker would be caught, and everything would go back to
normal. He knew, deep down, that this
was probably too much to hope for, but he prayed for it anyway. Brian believed in miracles, and he believed
in the power of prayer, so he prayed for miracles.
When he
looked up, Howie was standing at the foot of Kevin’s bed.
“Hey,”
Brian said in surprise, lowering his hands to his lap, his eyes moving
instinctively toward the clock. “Is my
time up already?”
“Not
quite.” Howie shifted his weight
awkwardly. “I wanted to ask you
something, though.”
“Yeah?” Brian raised his eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“That phone
call… the one you and AJ thought was the press…” Howie started tentatively.
“Yeah? What about it?”
“Well… I
was just thinking…” Howie paused,
looking straight into Brian’s eyes. “Do
you think it could have been Nicky?”
***
Nick felt
sick to his stomach as he trudged back to the buggy, where Analiese and Lukas waited
for him. They both stared down at him as
he approached.
“That was
quick,” said Analiese, with a tone of surprise.
“Didn’t you reach someone?”
He shook
his head slowly. “I couldn’t do it.”
“Couldn’t
do it?” She glanced at Lukas before
looking back at Nick in confusion. “Why
not?”
“I…” He sighed; how was he going to explain
himself to them when he wasn’t even sure why he had panicked like that and hung
up on Brian? “I dunno. It’s… complicated. Too complicated to explain right now.” He looked around, suddenly paranoid, all too
aware that he was out in the open, in the dark.
Anyone could be lurking in the shadows, watching him. “I’m sorry… can we just go back?” he pleaded,
climbing up onto the buggy seat beside Analiese.
“Back… back
to the farm?”
He heard
the uncertainty in her voice and could tell she was uncomfortable with the idea
of him staying another night. “Please,
can you just drive? I’ll try to explain
on the way.”
Lukas
hesitated, but Analiese gave a nod, and he flicked the reigns, starting the
horse off on a slow plod back to the main road.
As the gas station grew further behind them, Analiese asked, “Are you
sure you don’t want to try phoning someone else?”
Nick’s
stomach was in knots. “You don’t
understand. I made a mistake. A whole bunch of mistakes, actually. I was out when I wasn’t supposed to be, and I
saw something I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t tell anyone. I was afraid to get involved, and it got my
friend killed. And if that wasn’t bad
enough, the guys that did it tried to kill me, too, and they think they
succeeded. I wasn’t supposed to make it
out of that creek last night. If I go
back… if I go to the police… they’ll come after me again.”
His heart
pounded with fear, as the reality of the situation sunk in. “Me and the rest of my friends,” he
added. “My family and my girlfriend,
too.” Suddenly, he didn’t care that he
and Mandy had split up; she was still living in the house they’d bought
together in Florida, the address that was on his driver’s license. “They have my wallet; they have my license,
and they know where I live. And I don’t
know jack shit about them.”
A first
name and a single initial… that was all he had to go on, besides the generic
physical description he could give.
Young… muscular… maybe Latino or Italian. Joey and D.
That was it. That was all.
“Don’t you
see?” he begged, when neither Analiese nor Lukas spoke. “If they know I’m alive, I’ll be a target
again. And if they can’t get to me,
they’ll go after the ones I love. I
can’t protect everyone. I couldn’t even
protect Kevin…” He choked on the name,
his throat closing up, as tears welled in his eyes. “I can’t let that happen again. I just… I need to lay low for awhile, until
these guys are caught. I can’t risk
putting the rest of my family in danger.”
“But you’ll
risk endangering Ana’s?” At last, Lukas
spoke. His voice was as calm as ever,
but there was no mistaking the anger in his tone.
“No!” Nick
protested. “’Course not; I’d never want
that. It’s just, no one knows I’m
here. No one even knows I’m alive,
except for you two, and no one would ever look for me here.” He started to rush on, not even sure what he
was saying, but Analiese interrupted him.
“You’re
right. They would not,” she said
quietly.
“Ana-”
Lukas started.
“Lukas,”
she silenced him. “He’s in need of our
charity.”
“He’s
English!” Lukas snapped. “We take care
of our own before we look out for the Englischers.” Slipping into another language, he added something
else that Nick couldn’t understand – which, he figured, was exactly the point.
“Wir sind alle Gottes Kinder,” said Analiese
firmly. “We are all God’s children.”
She turned
to Nick, resting her hand gently upon his forearm. “We will offer you sanctuary. You are welcome to stay, until you feel safe
to leave.”
He nodded
and thanked her, feeling gratitude and relief, but once they were back at the
farm, once he was hidden away in the grandfather house once more, the reality
of his situation started to sink in.
Looking around the tiny, bare bedroom in dismay, Nick muttered, “What
have I gotten myself into now?”
***