A Dream of Independence

A Dream of IndependenceChris Evophoenixandthepelican.blogspot.coma continuation of A Dream of Pale Blue EyesJimmy calmly twirled his pen, watching the light reflect off of the blurred figure in his hand. He wasstarting to wonder why he'd ever been interesting in working the night shift. It paid well enough, andwatching who entered the apartments late and who they were with proved excellent source for gossip,but the work itself was mind-numbingly dull. All his friends who were still awake at this hour were toobusy being interesting to visit him at work.The elevator was around the corner, out of view from the desk, but he could hear a soft dingwhen it landed. The doors opened and a girl rushed past, eyes puffy with tears. She ran silentlyoblivious to the outside world.“Miss? Miss!” And she was out the front door. She she seemed familiar, but it was impossible toplace. Probably the mistress of some top-floor resident who ended the relationship on a bad note orsomething. He put it out of his mind for the moment and went back to the pen.About a minute passed and two men came out of the elevators and hurried to the door, bothcarrying large trash bags flapping at half capacity. The taller one wore a dark coat reaching past hisknees, while the shorter one had a dirty suit. They had arrived together about fifteen minutes beforewith no luggage of any sort, making their way confidently to the elevators. Jimmy didn't recognizeeither of them beyond that.“Hey! Hey! Stop!” The strangers were out the doors before Jimmy could stop them. He pickedup the desk phone and dialed police. After a quick rush of the usual address and name he brought upsuspicions of robbery.“Yes sir, we've already got a car headed over there. Hold on just a few minutes.”He spent the next minute tensed for any sound until a siren finally faded into earshot. Obviouslyliving in a big city makes it hard to not recognize the sound, but everyone tenses when they first hearthe Doppler effect stop at their house. Red lights flashed across the large glass doors, lighting a handfulof cops and paramedics who ran past, zeroing in on the elevator. Another policeman entered, walkingpurposefully towards Jimmy with all the authority a graying officer knew he deserved.“Hello, my name is Officer Darrell. I'm gonna need to take a statement.” The line was deliveredsimply, with no inflection.“What's going on, sir? Who made the first call?”“We have reports of a disturbance on the twenty-fourth floor. Do you know anything?” Jimmydescribed the darkly dressed men as best he could, trying to remember who lived on the twenty-fourthfloor. Old Mrs. Perterly? The Graysons? Diggery? None of them was the type to have any fights thatended in police intervention.Four more paramedics rushed in during his statement, rolling two empty gurneys between them.Jimmy watched them silently pass. Two injuries? Two deaths?

A few minutes later one of them returned, rolled by three paramedics yelling vitals betweenthem and bearing a woman so wrapped in blood and straps that he didn't recognize her until after theyhad passed through the room.“Oh my god! That was Ara! What happened?!”“We had reports of a shooting. I can't disclose any more at this stage of the investigation.”“Is Ara going to be okay? Where's Diggery? What happened?”“That's confidential police business.”“I'm probably closer to the man in the other gurney then any other person alive, not countingAranna. If you keep me posted on their condition, I can cooperate fully with this and any futureinvestigations.” Jimmy pulled a key off of a ring under the desk. Officer Darrell picked up his walkie-talkie to ask about the victims. All Jimmy heard back was static, but Darrell nodded along, thanking theparamedics outside and the police upstairs for their help.“She's in critical condition. She's been shot, and there's severe internal bleeding, but with a lotof luck we can save her.” He looked down, sighing. “I'm sorry to tell you this, but they found one male,aged thirty five to fifty, dead on arrival. He'd been shot in the face from less then four feet away. Poorguy probably tried to rush the assailants to save his girl. Might've managed it, too.” The officer went ontalking, but Jimmy couldn't hear anything. Diggery was dead.Jimmy waited for visiting hours to begin, trying to sleep in the morning lull of the hospital. Arahad come out of surgery less then half an hour before, but was expected to be in a coma for a very longtime. Possibly forever. The half-dead clock gave seven in the morning, which could mean anythingbetween five and ten. Jimmy sat alone. Not even the nurse was at her station, as the nursing shortageforced her to be caring for sleepless patients and early risers with nothing to rise to.After the police had finished questioning him, he had simply left the hotel desk to follow Ara tothe hospital. He hadn't known her very well, but couldn't remember her as having any friends outside of work, so conscious or not she might need some company.A young woman around Jimmy's age wearing lightly smeared makeup and messy hair from theday before wandered dazedly into the lobby, looking around the room four or five times to make sureshe hadn't seen anyone before taking a seat near him. She looked at him, opened her mouth to speak,but seemed to have forgotten how. Doggedly shaking her head, she regained some level of intelligence.“Do you know where Laranna Van Nahum's room is located?” She stumbled over several words,seemingly unsure of whether she was talking to a person or not.“Yeah, it's just up the hall on the left, room 324. But you can't go in yet, unless you're family.Visiting hours start at ten. She's still in a coma, but the doctor says that she's at least stable now. Do youwant some water or something?”She shook her head. “No, I'm fine. How do you know her?”“I'm just a friend of Diggery's, here to support her. Maybe even get a little more informationabout the . . .” He trailed off. “What's you're connection?”“Diggery had a lot of friends, it seems.” She smiled, trying desperately to hold to what had putthe strange shape to her face before the corners of her mouth forced their way back down.“I worked at his building, standing by the desk on nights. My name's Jimmy Tesk.” He held out

his hand pleasantly. She glanced at it, shaking her head quietly. He dropped the hand politely.“Sprite.”“Sprite? That's a funny name. Is it a nickname or something?”She smiled, thinking back. “No, not really. I've had it as long as I've been around. How long is ituntil we can go in?”“A little over two hours now.”“Oh, okay. I'm going to take a nap. Would you wake me when it's time to go in?” She sunk intothe chair, closing her eyes while she spoke.“Sure.”Laranna Van Nahum, Vice President of Finances, was moving. She couldn't tell a whole lot else-where she was, where Diggery was, what day it was- but she was definitely not paralyzed. Sometimesbeing able to wiggle your toes is enough.Everything was distorted, distant, as though she wore coke-bottle glasses on her mind overperfect eyes. It wasn't unpleasant. There was quite an enjoyable floating sensation overall, though beingunable to remember anything clearly is hardly ideal.“Ara? Are you there?” Diggery? No, it was much too young a voice for that. It was very familiar,anyway. “No, it's me, Jimmy. I work the front desk at your building.” She hadn't realized she'd beenspeaking. With a strong effort, she opened one eye as wide as she could. It still wasn't much, but shecould make out the unshaven face of the loyal night doorman smiling at her.“Wha's going on?” She could hardly hear her own words. What had happened? Why was she soweak?“There was- there was a shooting. The police think it was a robbery, because a few things werestolen from the apartment. You were hit in the chest, but the bullet only grazed your heart, and as longas you don't exert yourself you should be fine. You've been in a coma for three days. I was just going towait until someone else showed up to visit you, but it looks like they haven't been able to reach anyfamily yet.” He looked tired. For the first time Laranna opened her other eye, still not all the way, to seethe room. It was some sort of generic hospital, with a few empty bags of vending machine food anddrink cans pile next to a chair in the corner. “I didn't think you'd want to wake up alone.” The boy wasso genuinely concerned about it that she had to smile.“Thanks. Where's Diggery?” He looked down, closing his eyes. She felt a hand around hers,squeezing reassuringly.“What's the last thing you remember before waking up?” Everything was still as foggy asbefore, almost worse for all the energy it took to concentrate on the conversation. She thought hard,shining light as best she could on the obscurity of her own mind.“He got home late. Gave some excuse about filing a police report about some girl stalking him.We were talking, and . . . oh my god. Tony shot me.” It was too incredible, some sort of fever dreamfrom falling asleep near a television or something. But she didn't keep a TV in her room, and couldnever sleep anywhere else unless drugged into submission. The man had been a little obsessed with themovies, but to go so far as actually carrying out a hit? Trying to kill her, and putting Diggery in danger?Diggery.