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“SCREWBALL! Get down!!” Nisha ran for cover, watching as three of the others made off safely with the hostages. Seven young girls who had been taken for… well you can fill in the blank. But they were safe, as safe as can be. Nisha and the others? They were not. The bad guys, aptly called because they were evil, were pushing them back into an abandoned parking garage that looked like a stiff breeze would knock it over. Nisha would later find out it had been slotted for demolition, the bad guys used it for that purpose. What better to erase evidence you were ever in a place than to choose a building that simply wouldn't be there in a day?
"Nisha! The stairs!" Her gaze went to Timothy, he was hunkered down closer to the door than she. Answering the bad guy's fire, she motioned for their crewmate to follow, "Go, Tim! Go!"
He nodded as she covered him, making it to the stairs in two strides. Nisha motioned for Screwball to go, she'd cover him before following. Of course, she never got the chance. As she stood to follow, she immediately was distracted by the massive explosion somewhere above them.
"Timothy!" She screamed, running to the stairwell as fast as possible. She barely noticed the feeling of hot lead skinning her shoulder. Fractions of seconds passed between her every move, and as she opened the stairwell door she barely got out a scream before she was blown back.
“It’ll be a quick job, Nish. Good pay, we’ve worked with them before. There’s kids involved, Nisha. We have to do this.”
“Damn it, Timothy. We can’t. We said we’d get out of the game, you're the one that wanted to get out of that shit!” Nisha slammed her dishes into the sink with probably unnecessary force, but she wanted to make a point. As she turned, she could see she had made it successfully. Timothy’s face was sad and defeated, but he looked at her with those eyes and she knew she wasn’t winning this.
“We’ll be fine, Nish. But we have to help them. The old gang said they’d help, for pay. This is the last job, and then we can have the life we want. I promise,” Timothy stepped forward and held her face, looking her into her eyes as he promised her again it’d be the last one. Kissing him, she believed it.
As she woke, Nisha felt the familiar tightness of burnt skin, the itch that accompanied the pain. A few coughs to regain her breath told her she'd fractured a rib or two. The spinning of her head, without even moving, meant she'd also gotten a concussion. A soft push lifted the debris off her, exposing her skin to the heat of the morning sun. Shit.
The demolition crew was supposed to be there that afternoon, hopefully they'd see the damage and investigate first. However, Nisha never relied on 'hopefully'. She knew she had to get up, she had to get out.
She pushed more rubble off her body, groaning as her skin threatened to scrape or come off with every piece of cement and metal. Luckily, nothing too drastic had happened to her, she'd been through way tougher scrapes than this. As she tried to stand, wincing at the pain in her hip from being thrown against concrete, she almost didn't notice the warm drip fall onto her arm.
But, as she investigated the pain of her hip, she saw the dark crimson liquid bright against her dust covered skin. Blood. She looked up and saw it, half a forearm hanging off the edge of the explosion cavern. The hand was limp, blood dripping off the fingers. His fingers. She could see his wedding ring glinting in the light.
Timothy.
Her heart lurched. The one good thing she had, her possibility at a life besides this one, seemed to her as dead as her dreams. Nisha shook her head, she couldn't entertain those thoughts, not now. The blood was warm, he had to be alive. She had to get to him, get him out. She hobbled over rubble, barely making it the few feet to the stairwell. Using all her strength, she pulled the door. The rubble around it proved to be a great hassle, but she managed to get it wide enough she could fit through.
Nisha looked in and hissed. It was Screwball. Well, what remained of Screwball. The man had been flattened, the debris of the stairs above falling onto him full force. A look up told Nisha she would not be going that way, the stairs had all come down to make this bloody cement mess. Of course, the structurally sound stairwell walls had been untouched by the force. There was no chance of climbing up to the next floor.
Turning around, she looked at the mess she'd just escaped from. She hadn't realized just how close she'd come to ending up like Screwball. The hole above her had dropped a slab of concrete the size of a sedan just feet from where she'd landed after the blast. Her luck was two-fold, the slab had fallen on a parking barrier, creating a ramp a few feet below the hole. On a good day, she could make that jump easy. Now, with her ribs and hip most likely fractured, she was worried. But she knew she had to make the jump.
She tested the slab first, walking up it and jumping a few times to size the distance and also make sure the thing wouldn't crumble. As she looked up, all she could see was Timothy's arm hanging there. As she looked down, all she could see was the blood pooling from the drip. There was no time to be more cautious about this, so she headed back to the bottom of the ramp.
Nisha hopped between each foot, amping herself up, and then she ran. She pulled herself up the ramp and jumped. As she moved up through the air, she felt like time stood still. Everything around her seemed so stationary, so still. Then she was colliding with the edge of the gap, the force against her gut almost making her vomit with pain. It took her breath away, but she grappled the cement to hold on. Her palms tore to shreds, the force of her pulling up on the cement was enough for road rash to burn her skin even more.
But she did what she always did, she pulled herself up despite it all. Nisha got one knee up and the rest was much easier. Rolling out onto the flat surface, she rested for a moment. Staring up through the hole, she saw about three more levels above them. Whatever had exploded, what the bastards probably planted as a Plan B, had ripped through the top layer and sent everything down through the rest. The ceiling, underneath the floor above her, had flaked away. The thin cement sheets had rained down and exposed rebar and wire supports, but that wasn't her concern. It was where the cement had fallen. She looked to where Timothy was and cursed.
Nisha saw his arm again, and saw his body laying there. He was on a slant, the cement slab hanging by a rebar thread threatening to snap. How had she not noticed the cement bowing down to where she had been? Again, she shook her head. Things in the moment are not always clear, what mattered was getting him off that and out before the building came down. Carefully, she moved over the cement debris. A few times she slipped, the rocks moving and shifting. If she fell, it was over. They'd both die.
"I'm coming, handsome..." Nisha wasn't sure if he could hear her, the reassurance was mostly for herself.
When she got close to him, she stopped climbing around. The rubble covered about two thirds of his body, she wasn't sure what was and wasn't under the rubble. Instead, she began to pull cement off him, flinging it through the hole below. She wasn't a believer by any means, but she prayed that nothing would happen. At least let me see his eyes again.
She moved as quick as she dared, "This is the last time I let you convince me to do something stupid, kid. I'm the stupid one, not you. Not you..."
Nisha froze mid-move as Timothy screamed in pain without even opening his eyes, she heard his breath catch in his lungs and a spattering of blood came out to dribble down his chin.
"Timothy?! Tim, what- are you okay? Where's the pain?" He didn't answer, he just groaned in pain. So Nisha continued, softer and slower. As she pulled the cement away, she saw why he'd screamed. She must have bumped into it or shifted the weight. There was a piece of rebar piercing his side. Nisha began to shake, placing the cement to the side as she examined him. The bar had come through the back, he must have landed on it, but the angle went up through his gut to come out just above his hip.
Experience told her it most likely missed vital organs, or he'd be gone by now. The blood soaking his shirt, heading down to his shoulder and his arm, explained the blood dripping down to where she'd been. The sheer amount of blood terrified her. Luckily, his chest was lower than his hips on the slanted cement, helping restrict blood to the wound. He still had some color in him, which was good, but he'd lost too much to waste time.
"I need to bend this bar back, Timothy. It's going to hurt. Can you hear me?"
Timothy woke to the feeling of nothingness and pressure. He sort of felt like he was back in bed, under the weighted blanket Nisha got him for his nightmares. Of course, if he was back in bed he wouldn't be under the blanket because she always stole it. He could hear her voice, though. It sounded like it was right next to him, "I'm coming, handsome..."
'Coming'? She's right here? Timothy tried to reach over in bed, tried to feel around for her, but his arm wouldn't listen to him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. Then he heard her voice again, chastising him for being stupid. A familiar thing, but something was wrong. It was then that he remembered what had happened. He remembered running up the staircase, hoping Nisha and Screwball would follow and they'd make it out. Then he remembered the explosion, and the force of cement falling sending him flying. He didn't much remember anything past that.
Now, he doesn't know if he could even try. Especially not as a searing hot pain ripped through his whole body. He couldn't track where the pain came from, he didn't even realize he screamed. He wasn't in control anymore, and the pain consumed him no matter how hard he tried to focus on Nisha instead. Still, some rational part of his brain, probably Nisha's voice in his head, told him it was good he felt that pain. Pain was good news, right? His spine wasn't broken, and he wasn't too far gone just yet... So he could sleep...
"Timothy, no! Tim stay awake!" He screamed again as the pain returned, cursing Nisha for that. He knew she had to straighten the bar, she said she had to straighten the bar... but he was so tired...
"Stay with me, handsome. Please," Nisha's voice cracked as she begged him to stay awake, doing her best to fix the bar enough that she could get him off it. In a moment of desperation, she wiggled the bar a bit too much. Her heart caught in her throat as he screamed, the pain radiating through her as well.
"Timothy. I have to lift you. I need you to help me, can you move your legs?" She watched as his brow pressed together in concentration, her gaze moving down to his legs to see them lying still. "Fuck."
"Listen, I need to lift you. This will hurt. Take my belt, bite it if you need to," She moved to pull her belt out, folding it and putting it between his teeth. Nisha grabbed his torso, arms wrapping under his to lift as best she could. "Don't wiggle, do not try to shift your weight. I'm so sorry, love. One. Two. THREE!" She couldn't help but scream with the pain as well, her ribcage screaming as she pulled him up and over. She collapsed atop him as she let go, catching her breath before moving to get off him and assess the damage. She pulled her shirt off and pressed it to his back, rolling him over so his weight would help stop the bleeding.
Her attention went to his face. She took the belt out, noticing the bite marks left in the leather. She smoothed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the blood from his lips and cheeks. He looked so peaceful. Almost like he was sleeping.
"Tim? Timothy, can you hear me? Timothy, open your eyes... Say something! Dammit, kid! Say something! Please!!" Nisha's frantic begging struck out like a theremin, chilling her to the core. She abandoned all hopes of stabilizing him, instead dragging him to the side of the garage that had been untouched by the blast. There was an opening in the wall, she could get him to it and maybe drag him out? Or lower him down someway? She was desperate, her ability to think clearly was gone. She just knew she needed to get him out. She had to get him to safety.
Her desperation consumed her, and she didn't notice half the crew come up over the edge until someone was right next to her yelling, "Give me the kid!" Nisha spun, reaching for her gun but finding the holster empty. When she registered the face before her, she almost collapsed.
"Ace?! Ace, he- Timothy, he- Ace please help me," Nisha reluctantly let the man grab Timothy's arm, wiping tears from her eyes as she saw Ace lift Timothy over his shoulder. Ace shuffled to the wall and handed Timothy to whomever was below. Nisha turned to the next person closest and she just barely mumbled out, "Th-The girls... Are they?"
"They're safe, we got 'em to the warehouse and turned around as soon as we could. He'll be okay, Sheriff. He'll be okay," Duckie handed her his shirt, and she took it with thanks. Nisha nodded as she listened, tears streaming down her face, and then she was falling into her crewmate's arms.
Bright light. Timothy could see the light through his eyelids and he knew he must be dead. There was that familiar sense of pressure again, and the weight on his chest. He could hear shuffling, the clattering of metals and the beeping of machines. He tried to open his eyes, fluttering the lids instead as he tried to adjust to the light. Counting his losses, he pressed them closed again and focused elsewhere. Big mistake. As he tried to feel the rest of himself, he felt the tube up his nose. All of a sudden, it was like he couldn't breathe. All he could focus on was the feeling of it in his throat. The hardness of it in his sinuses and how it rubbed against his nostril. He tried to raise his hand, managing to get his forearm up over his chest and he tried to tug on the tube. The tape prevented him from getting a good pull, most of his strength was gone, and then there was a soft hand holding his back.
"Timothy? Tim, it's gotta stay in. I know it hurts, but you need to leave it in," Nisha's voice came through loud and clear this time. It didn't sound like a dream anymore, and he shook under her hand. He tried to open his eyes again, getting a glimpse of her face before he had to close his eyes again.
"Rest, handsome... Be careful, your right arm is in a cast. Don't move, you might tear your stitches. I'm going to get a nurse, I'll be right back," He whimpered as she squeezed his hand and left, the absence of her warmth was colder than usual. As his hand rested on his chest, he found the source of the pressure. His entire chest and stomach was wrapped tightly, he could feel gauze under ace bandages. Something he and Nisha were very familiar with.
His breath caught in his throat, though, as he felt below the bandages. All sensation and feeling was gone as he tried to pinch his hips. He tried to shift his legs, tried to move his toes. But as he forced his eyes open, he looked down and saw no movement. Panic began to creep into his chest, his heart rate rising as his breaths got more frantic.
"Hey there, kiddo! How are we feeling?" Timothy looked up at the doctor coming into the room, and then at Nisha as she followed. He could feel the tears in his eyes as he did, the terror of his situation becoming real.
"I'm paralyzed, aren't I?" Nisha darted to him, the pain in her face spoke volumes.
"Yes, unfortunately you are. We believe the trauma of the blast and collision caused swelling which pressed on nerves. Your spinal column is intact, and otherwise you're in very good shape. The bar passed through cleanly, no major organs or arteries were affected. No internal bleeding. You're a very lucky man, Mr. Lawrence," The doctor stepped to Timothy's other side, examining the machines and taking numbers down in Tim's chart. "You may regain feeling, you may even regain the ability to walk again, but it will be a hard road. Something tells me you're used to the hard road, but this will be worse. I won't be soft with you, you have difficult times ahead."
Timothy found himself once again feeling like he was numb, like the pressure on his chest was weighing down on him. He looked down again, this time no longer focused on the terror of not feeling his legs. Instead, he focused on the blanket laying across them, his weighted blanket. The gift from Nisha, something she'd intended to help calm him. It worked.
He reached over to her, squeezing her hand and taking in her injuries too. She was bandaged just like him, her shoulder wrapped in gauze and he could see the way she held herself. She was in pain too, but they'd make it through. They always did.
"Careful.. Careful!!" Timothy watched as Nisha tried to push his wheelchair through the front door. It did not look wide enough.
"You wanna do it yourself, handsome?" Nisha griped, shifting the chair a bit so it fit almost perfectly in.
"You wouldn't make a disabled old man push himself in his own wheelchair, would you?” Timothy smiled, and then gasped as Nisha pushed his wheelchair in. He spun around to see her coming in after him laughing.
“You’re lucky you’re handsome, cowboy. Comment like that would usually warrant a smack from the hand,” Nisha mimed a limp prosthetic with her robotic arm. “Now let's get you upstairs and into that sponge bath. We’ve got a long road to recovery, but that doc did say you might get some sensation back… I figure we test it out a bit?”
Timothy really wished he could take the stairs with his chair, “Let’s go!”
Nisha laughed as she bent down to lift him from the thing, carrying him upstairs as he rambled on about how he’d like his bath, what bath bomb he wants to use… etc. Nisha just put in one suggestion, that they use the waterproof vibrator.