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It was night time, not too late but the sun had been down for several hours. Hank and his recently turned six-year-old son Cole were in the car on their way home from a friend's. It was a short drive one they had taken plenty of times before. They would be home in no time. Music blared from the speakers as both of them sang along to the tune. Cole's favorite song. It was particularly cold, especially for an early October evening but Hank would never have guessed the roads were slick with ice.
As the father and son were almost home an oncoming truck crossed into their lane. The truck must have lost control when the driver hit a patch of black ice. The Anderson's car swerved to avoid the truck but it was too late. The larger vehicle crashed into the smaller car, crushing it and pushing it across the road. The car flipped and rolled. Rolling several times before settling on its side in a cold, dark, muddy ditch.
Hank will never forget the smell of the filthy ditch or the smell of fluids leaking from both totaled vehicles. Nor would he forget the taste of his own blood dripping down his face, not that he was aware of his injury at the time. His son was his priority. Oh god. The sounds. He'd never forget that either. The sound of impact, the sound of glass and metal settling, the other driver cursing, the sound of boots running over to them, sirens and worse of the most painful sound of all: Cole crying. Cole's sobbing broke his heart. His baby boy. His son was scared and hurting and he could do nothing to take that hurt or fright away.
Still, Hank tried his best to comfort him.
“Shhh it’s alright Cole, it’s alright Daddy is right here.” He said as he came to his son’s side. Ignoring the blood and being careful of an obvious wound, he brushed some stray hair from the boy’s face and carefully held his hand. There was a lot of blood. A lot. A scary amount. He tried not to let his worry show though. He didn’t want to scare Cole anymore.
Laying off to the side was the boy’s favorite toy, a stuffed frog Cole had affectionately named Snuggles. The toy had gone through just as much of a beating as the father and son had. The knitted green yarn was torn and ripped from the broken glass and twisted sharp metal. Hank picked the toy up and handed it to Cole.
“And Snuggles is here too.”
“Daddy! Everything hurts, make it stop.”
“Shhh it’s alright buddy, I got you. Everything will be okay. Helps coming, helps coming.”
Hank didn’t remember if he had called 911 or if he didn’t then who did, he also didn’t remember when the paramedics showed up. It was a blurred flash of him being pushed away from his son and someone insisting he needed help too. He refused. Cole was the one who needed help.
Then they were at the hospital, being separated again. That was all a blur too. His damn wrist and ribs ended up broken and he needed several stitches in a few places. But other than that and a concussion he was deemed okay. After way too fucking long he was finally allowed to see his son. What he remembered clearly was entering that small ‘room’, curtained off from the rest of a much larger room. An android trying it’s best to keep the small boy alive. There was only so much they could do without surgery.
The large bandages around his head and chest. The blood that was already seeping through. The beeps and buzzes of machines failing to keep his son alive. So many wires and things swallowing the unconscious small form. Hank remembered being told his son wasn’t in pain. They had administered a strong painkiller. They also gave him something to put his asleep so he wouldn’t pull anything out or aggravated his wounds. He was comfortable. He wasn’t sure if he believed it but he didn’t want to think about anything else. It was already horrible enough to see his son dying, he didn't want to think about it possibly being painful...
He remembered vividly, being told his son needed surgery as soon as possible in order to survive. It was urgent, an emergency but there was no surgeon available to perform the operation. An android would perform the surgery but there wasn’t necessarily any programmed to handle pediatric trauma cases or even surgical skills. It was that or nothing because the damn human surgeon was high on red fucking ice…. They didn't have a choice and neither did Hank who agreed to the risky procedure.
He remembered the walk down the hall to the operating room, the rather rushed walk. The urgency and the dread. But he was thankful he was allowed to walk alongside his son. His son's toy Snuggles sat beside Cole. Either someone had placed it in the child's arms or he never let go of it from when his father gave it to him in the wrecked remains of their car. Hank wondered which it was. Likely someone saw he came in with it and thought to keep it with him. Hank was grateful to whoever it was who thought to tuck the frog under his arm. Cole would be devastated if he lost his favorite toy. Snuggles had to be there when he woke up.
Then they got to the part where he wasn’t allowed back anymore. He gave a squeeze to Cole's hand, a lump formed in his throat when he felt how limp the tiny hand had become. He bent down and gave a kiss to the boy's cheek and brushed more stray hairs from his face.
"I love you kiddo. You'll be okay. See you soon." He took hold of the toy frog beside his son and held it in his own hands. He knew it wouldn't be allowed back with him. One more squeeze of the boy's hand and then he stepped aside so they could continue on to the operating room. He felt so damn helpless as he stood and watched them carry on down the hall as they quickly pushed the gurney down the hall and behind a set of doors.
He was left wondering if he would ever see his son alive ever again, and praying that he would. But fearing he wouldn't. And, that was it. That was the last time he ever saw his son alive. It was barely any time later that he was being told the worst news of his life.
Cole didn’t make it.