Date: Fri, 4 Dec 2015 11:17:18 -0500
From: CJ Abello <cjabello1997@gmail.com>
Subject: CJ: Autumn: Chapter 3: Human Touch

CJ: Autumn: Chapter 3: Human Touch

This is a work of fiction set in the real world. Certain living individuals
make appearances in the story; all other characters and the events in which
they all participate are the creation of the author. Any resemblance of the
fictional characters to actual individuals is purely coincidental.



Friday, 30 August 2013 - continued

Flynn was a bear of a man. He stood as tall, and weighed as much, as the
largest linebackers playing in the National Football League. His body
wasn't cut and ripped with clearly defined muscles, but bulky, like a
Turkish or Eastern European power-lifter. His size, dark skin, shaved head,
and full black beard gave him an intimidating appearance. More than once,
people had crossed the street as they approached him on a sidewalk,
apparently fearing the hulking man.

The guy, however, broke every possible stereotype held against those who
looked like him. He married his high school sweetheart as soon as he
returned to South Carolina, following four years in the United States
Army. They had both worked hard-he as an automobile mechanic, and she as a
nurse-until they were able to afford a modest house in their hometown of
Florence.

They were parents to a seven-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy, whom
they both doted on.  Dallas knew many black children in the south were born
in poverty, were raised in poverty, and died in poverty. Discrimination and
lack of opportunity for the descendants of slaves was still common in his
home state. He had sworn to himself his kids would have a better, and
easier life, than he had experienced.

Although he was an extremely competent auto repairman, he realized fixing
cars, as an employee, would be a hard way to save a significant amount of
money. He and his wife wanted to build a large enough egg-nest to provide
an education for the children. He worked at a local shop in Florence for
some time, then signed on with a large regional trucking company, went
through its training, and obtained his Commercial Driver's License Class A.

For the following few years, he spent more time driving up and down the
east coast of the United States, than at home with his family. It was hard
being away for many days at a time, but the big guy believed in making
sacrifices in the present, in order to ensure a better future.  While on
the road, he didn't go out drinking, gambling, or chasing women, as many of
his fellow truckers did. He spent his down time working out, or reading. He
lived frugally; he and his wife saved as much of what they earned as they
could.

After a few more years on the road, he expected to have enough saved to
return to Florence, and do what he loved best: repair automobiles. His
previous employer had offered him a position in the garage, whenever he
wanted it, along with the chance of buying into the business. The owner was
older, hoped to eventually retire, and allow Flynn to take over entirely
when the time came. Owning his own shop would provide the money needed to
pay for his kids' education.

Traffic around the nation's capital was usually bad; on Friday afternoon,
before the last long weekend of the summer, it was atrocious. Many people
had left work early to get a jump-start on the holiday. They were most
likely thinking ahead to upcoming plans: the beach, the mountains, backyard
pools, and cookouts, or any of a thousand other things. Paying attention to
their driving was not at the top of the list, Flynn thought.

X X X

The large reception area of the emergency room at George Washington
University Hospital was filled with the redolence of pine-scented
disinfectant. The source of the somewhat pleasing odor appeared to be a
middle aged guy wearing blue coveralls, who walked around the brightly lit
space, pushing a plastic cart filled with cleaning supplies. He sprayed
surfaces visitors might touch, wiping them dry with sheets torn from the
roll of paper towels secured to the handle of his cart. The used sheets he
crumpled, tossing into a container lined with a plastic bag. His routine
was interrupted as alerting sounds and announcements emanated from the
public address system. He stopped his cleaning, quickly walking away from
the room, pushing the cleaning cart ahead of him. A few minutes later, he
returned with a different one. This one had stacks of towels, sheets and
blankets on the lower shelf. The top of the cart had clear plastic bins,
with bandages, gauze rolls, and boxes of gloves visible through the
sides. The supplies were apparently kept at the ready for emergency
situations such as the present one.

The station the television set in the room was tuned to had interrupted
their regularly scheduled programming to report on the police officer
shooting in Chinatown. The image shown was of an attractive, young, African
American woman, holding a microphone, standing across the street from what
was described as the scene of the crime. The increasing noise made it hard
to hear the report, but the crawling line at the bottom of the screen
stated the shooter was still on the loose. Yellow police tape could be seen
blocking the sidewalk, keeping crowds of people away, while an Asian couple
stood in the door of the Sum Yeung Gay restaurant.

This coverage was in itself interrupted, when the image switched to a man
and a woman sitting behind a desk in a studio, which was then replaced with
an aerial view of a multi-vehicle accident on an expressway. Standing close
to the wall mounted set, one could hear a commentator say the images being
broadcast live from their news chopper, were of a multi vehicle pile-up on
Interstate three ninety-five. Apparently the road's heavy traffic, which
slowed average speeds on the expressway, prevented a terrible accident from
turning into a horrendous carnage. Even then, preliminary reports claimed
three individuals had lost their lives. A truck driver, a man identified
only as Flynn, had survived and been airlifted to MedStar Washington
Hospital Center in Georgetown--the largest private hospital in the
city. Fifteen others were being transported by ambulance, to GWU
Hospital. Names of the victims were not being released pending notification
of next of kin.

The announcement heard in the room declared alert: Trauma Yellow. As if
struck by a jolt of electricity, the medical center's personnel rushed to
action. The janitor stopped his cleaning, and exchanged his cart for one
filled with medical supplies. Security guards asked those waiting in the
area to move closer to the walls, while clearing a path for the injured by
moving chairs and plants out of the way. Orderlies arrived, pushing wheeled
stretchers, and formed a line outside the building entrance, on the
sidewalk beneath the covered driveway. Police officers interrupted their
vigil for their injured comrade, to move their vehicles out of the access
lanes, making room for the onslaught of ambulances and patients presaged by
the alert and the broadcast heard over their radio.

The hospital's chief trauma surgeon had planned on leaving work early on
Friday; he delayed his departure when informed a police officer had been
shot. He was already in the emergency area because of this, when he was
told about the large number of victims from the pile-up on the highway, who
were on the way to his facility. He had ordered the alert condition which
mobilized the medical center's staff. As doctors, nurses, orderlies, and
anesthesiologists reported in, they were organized and reminded the day
could become one of the most intense experiences of their careers.

He stressed this type of crisis situations were rare, but the last time a
gunman had made an attempt on a U.S. president's life--more than three
decades ago--hospital personnel was mobilized in a similar manner. GWUH
trauma surgeons were the ones who operated on President Ronald Reagan and
other victims. The surgeon and his colleagues met every month; ensuring the
hospital had enough doctors and nurses on backup, in case of a crisis, was
essential. But the medical center didn't organize drills, because as the
press was told afterwards, if one planned for such an instance, then they
were in all likelihood destined for failure. Those events were just
chaotic, and no one ever knew what to expect.

John Paul, CJ, and his dads stood in a corner of the waiting area,
expecting to hear news on Tommy's status sometime soon, as the influx of
injured people began. The slightly crowded space became even more
so. Police personnel, also waiting for news of the injured detective, stood
aside so as not to interfere; some jumped in to assist, helping to bring
victims with minor injuries into the facility. In what might best be
described as organized chaos, the surgeon in charge of triage directed the
critical cases towards operating rooms. His loudly spoken orders were
clearly audible over the cacophony, and followed at once. Those suffering
only cuts and scrapes went to regular emergency workspaces to be treated by
nurses, and wait until a physician became available for a more thorough
examination.

Their view of the main entrance was blocked, by the many people between
them and the doors to the department; JP and his friends failed to notice
the two young children brought in by police officers. The dozing boy and
girl were taken by two orderlies, who quickly whisked them away, to a
quieter area. Both youngsters had been rescued from the wreckage of one of
the cars, found securely strapped into child safety seats. The vehicle they
were traveling in had collided with a trailer truck rig, they were
definitely tossed about a bit, but the restraints held, and they were
unharmed. The hysterical crying had eventually subsided, once they had
tired themselves out, leaving both exhausted and asleep.

X X X

Doc stepped out of Detective Kennedy's recovery cubicle, and headed towards
the area he suspected his friends were at. In the corridor, he met up with
the hospital's trauma chief, who had just walked out of an operating room
next door. The two physicians, friends for a long time, greeted each other
as a patient was wheeled out of the same space the chief had come out of.
A white sheet was draped over the man's mid-section; his left arm was
connected to an intravenous line, leading to a clear plastic bag hanging at
the side of the gurney. His face and arms had a couple of small bandages,
and the right leg was elevated and in a cast. The man's uncovered,
muscular, hairy chest seemed familiar to Doc.

"Howdy, chief, what's going on? I'm surprised to see you here on the Friday
afternoon of a holiday weekend."

"Hey, Matt, bad car crash on the three-nine-five. We have three dead, one
survivor in critical shape airlifted to MedStar, and fifteen others brought
here. Most of those had minor injuries.  That guy was one of the worst
cases, but he's going to be just fine."

"Y'all mind if I take a look? I think I may know him. Have you identified
him?"

"Sure did, bud. We got his name from the wallet first responders found in
his pants. They had to slice his jeans off to treat the leg, after cutting
him out of the vehicle. The seatbelt, and the airbag, saved his life when
the car rolled over."

Doc walked over to the gurney, nodded to the orderly waiting with it in
front of the elevator doors, and looked at the patient's face. There was no
need to read the identification bracelet to identify the man, he did know
him. Doc closed his eyes, shook his head in disbelief, and covered his
mouth with his hand. He hat to muffle the loud curses he uttered in
frustration.

"Matt? Do you know him?"

"Yeah, the cop who was shot today is one of my closest friends. Adriano
here is the manager of the place our group uses as our regular hangout. And
this guy's as nice a person as you could ever meet. This fucking day keeps
getting worse by the minute."

"Sorry to hear that, man."

"Do you know if his wife, or their twins, were involved in the accident?"

"Boy and girl? About four or five years old?"

"Yeah, that's them!"

"Both kids are okay, a couple of bruises, but fine otherwise. I was told
the woman driving the car was pronounced dead in the ambulance, while in
transit."

"Goddamn!" What a lousy, crappy day, thought Matt. He stood still, closed
his eyes again, and tried to calm himself before walking towards the
reception area in search of his friends.  Deciding the gang had enough to
worry about over the injured Detective, Doc thought it best to withhold the
news about Adriano and his family until later.

X X X

The good news about Tom Kennedy's condition and prognosis, were met with
sighs of relief from the group of friends. CJ and John Paul had sobbed a
bit, visibly relieved, and obviously shedding grateful tears. Doc led them
to the Intensive Care Unit, where each one was allowed to spend a few
minutes with the sleeping detective. They had moved over to the small
waiting area afterwards. Brett had taken CJ to their house in Georgetown so
he could shower, and would bring food for everybody. Doc excused himself so
he could run to his office, promising to return after he looked in on
another couple of patients.

When he returned, he found Dragon, King, and Danno eating with the other
men. He motioned for the three new arrivals to meet him at the nurses'
station, and gave permission for each one to also spend a few minutes with
the injured police officer.

Walking back to rejoin the rest of their group, he whispered in Danno's
ear, asking him to stay behind, once the others departed. He suggested it
might be best for him not to mention the request to anyone else. The tall
Hawaiian nodded his agreement with a questioning expression on his face.


They stepped into the middle of a family discussion, as CJ argued with, and
convinced his fathers, he could spend the night at the hospital. Doc said
goodbye, let them know he needed to check on another patient, and
discretely motioned for Danno to join him.

X X X

As the surgeon had told Matt, Adriano's wallet and phone were found in his
clothing, after he was cut out of his car. The paramedics handed over all
the accident victim's personal belongings, following their delivery of the
man to the hospital. An administration department employee logged them in,
and stored the retrieved items for safekeeping. The orderly turned the
phone on, before putting it away, and was rewarded with a lock screen
displaying ICE information. ICE (for In Case of Emergency) is an
abbreviation used to identify the person to be notified should such a
contact be needed.

In Adriano's case, there were listings for ICE 1 (his wife), ICE 2 (his
parents), and ICE 3 (his employer). Calls to the wife's number transferred
to voice mail, so the parent's number was then tried. Mr. Tomassi answered,
confirmed he was Adriano's father, and was made aware of his son's
involvement in an automobile accident, and his condition. He asked about
his daughter in law, and was told she'd not been in the car with her
husband, but callers had been unable to reach her. Mr. Tomassi said he and
his wife would be leaving New Jersey within the hour, and would be in
Washington sometime that evening.

X X X

The food was all gone, CJ had cleaned up the leftover mess, and his fathers
had left. JP told the boy he was going to take the advice printed on his
black T-shirt--FEEL SAFE AT NIGHT SLEEP WITH A COP--and went to sit with
Tommy, while CJ settled himself in the waiting room to read.  "Caleb, would
you make sure the curtain in room four remains closed? I'll explain why
before I leave." Doc stood with Danno to one side of the nurses' station.

"Sure thing, Doctor."

"Bubba," he said to Danno. "What with Tom's shooting, today's been a shitty
day already, and I'm fixing to make it worse for you. Adriano and his
family were in a horrible automobile accident this afternoon."

"What? No! You mean the one on the interstate that's all over the news?"

"Well I ain't watched TV all day, but that's prolly it. The twins are fine,
a couple of bruises and scared, but fine. They're on a different floor. I
ordered they be given a mild sedative, to help them sleep through the
night. Adriano's case was a bit more serious, but he'll recover. The car's
seatbelt and airbag saved his life. He was unconscious, trapped inside the
car, as first responders arrived--they had to cut him out of it. He has
bruises all over his body, some lcuts on his face from glass shards, and a
broken right leg. The fractured bones have been set, pins attached to hold
them together, and the leg was placed in a cast. There was no damage to
tendons or ligaments. He's here in room four, but will be transferred
upstairs after the morning shift comes in. I'm having him placed in the
same room as his kids. His wife however..."

"Oh no, fucking shit! You gonna tell me she died?"

"Sorry, bud. She didn't make it. They tried to save the baby, but they were
both dead on arrival.  Her body was taken to the morgue. She ran head on
into an overturned truck, the twins were in their child seats in back. That
saved their lives. Adriano's car was clipped by one of the two trailer rigs
which caused the accident. It rolled over, ending upside down on the side
of the highway."

"Fuck! Can I see him?"

"Sure thing, but as I said, he's heavily sedated at the moment. All vital
signs are normal. I don't foresee any long-term physical effects. His
parents were notified early this afternoon, and are on their way from New
Jersey. They should be here sometime soon. The receptionist in the lobby
will text me when they arrive, and I'll have her direct them to the twins'
room. I'd like you to be there with me when they arrive."

"Definitely. They're the nicest people. You can see where my man got his
great disposition."

"Let's take look in on him, I want to check Adriano's chart for a minute,
and we can head over to see the kids." Doc grabbed a folder from the
nurses' station, and closely followed by Danno, walked into Adriano's
room. The big Hawaiian headed straight for the man's bed, grabbed his hand,
and spoke to him in a soft voice.

"Hey, buddy, it's Danno. Doc's here with me and he tells me you're going to
be just fine. We're going up to see the twins in a minute, they're also in
the hospital, but they're un-hurt. They're just keeping an eye on them
overnight. Your mom and dad are on their way, and should be here soon, I'll
bring them to see you when they get in. You just rest and get better,
okay?" Doc was standing at the door, having already finished with the
chart, waiting for Danno.

On their way out, he dropped the chart off, and spoke to the nurse. "Caleb,
let me tell you why I want the curtain in Mr. Tomassi's room closed..."

X X X

Angelo and Antonia Tomassi made one stop between their residence in New
Jersey, and George Washington Hospital, in Washington. They bought gasoline
for their car, coffee for themselves, and used the restroom. During the
drive, Tonia Tomassi called the hospital several times to inquire about the
condition of her son. After positively identifying herself, she was told
Adriano had a broken leg which the orthopedic surgeon had operated on and
placed in a cast, but otherwise had just minor injuries.  He was in stable
condition, but sleeping under sedation, so she was unable to speak with
him. The deeply religious woman repeatedly crossed herself, thanking Saint
Adrian and the Virgin Mary for answering her prayers.

Several calls to their son's place, and their daughter-in-law's mobile
phone went unanswered, leaving both of them concerned, and leading
Mrs. Tomassi to renew her praying of The Holy Rosary. She sought divine
intervention, in ensuring the safety of the couple's grandchildren, and
their mother.

"Where could she be? I'm so worried, Angelo." It was the umpteenth time
Mrs. Tomassi asked the question of her husband.

"Please, Antonia, relax. I'm sure she's okay."

"But what if she's hurt? Why is she not answering her phone?"

"Look, we were already told she wasn't in the car with Adriano. We know
they were going away to the shore this weekend, and we know what traveling
with two kids is like. The twins were probably driving her crazy. She
either forgot the phone at home, or most likely its battery ran out of
power. Hopefully, the authorities were able to get hold of her, and she's
already back in Washington, or on her way there.  Let's not worry for now;
I'm certain it's nothing."

X X X

The receptionist in the hospital's lobby directed Mr. and Mrs. Tomassi to
the floor Dr. Calhoun had requested they be sent to. As they approached the
nurse's station, they recognized Danno, who stood talking with a man
wearing a physician's white coat. They had met their son's employer
previously, when they had come to visit their grandchildren.

Angelo Tomassi, at sixty, was a physically fit man, with a full head of
white hair, a bushy beard and chest hair showing through his open necked
shirt. He maintained an active lifestyle, something he instilled in his
three sons from an early age, which resulted in his good health and strong
body. The Italian-American businessman, along with his oldest and youngest
sons, owned and operated a small pizza chain, back home in New Jersey.

His wife, Antonia, was five years younger, still a very attractive woman,
who had apparently passed those genes to her boys--all three had turned out
to be handsome men. Once her sons had grown, Antonia went to work in the
family business, handling bookkeeping responsibilities, and all paperwork.

"Angelo, Antonia, it is so good to see you. Allow me to introduce you to
Dr. Matthew Calhoun, he's my personal physician, and has also treated your
family since Adrian joined us at Rogo's."

"Ma'am. Sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your son and
grandchildren are some of my favorite patients, it is always a delight to
see them. Let me assure you that, while banged up after the accident,
they'll recover from their injuries."

"Oh thank goodness. What a relief to hear they're okay. Thank you for
taking care of our family, Doctor. Can we see them? Are all four of them on
this floor?"

"Ma'am, your son is in the Intensive Care Unit, he had surgery to repair a
broken leg, which is now in a cast. He'll be transferred up here, to the
same room the twins are in, as soon as possible. We'll take you to their
room in a minute. They have some minor bruising, but otherwise they're
perfectly fine. We have them sedated, so they won't wake up alone.
However, I'm sorry to tell you your daughter-in-law did not survive, and
neither did the baby.  She was pronounced dead at the scene of the
accident."

"Nooo, nooo, nooo! Oh God, why? Oh no, please..." The woman spoke through
her sobs, tears streaming down her face, as her entire body visibly
sagged. She was helped to a chair by her husband, who sat beside her,
embraced her, and softly spoke to her. He tried to ease her pain, the best
way he could think of, with a little human touch.


----------

Copyright 2015 CJ Abello
Edited by: Mann Ramblings

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