Every Second

82

Albany, New York

Lori Fulton was surfacing.

Floating to consciousness, as her senses awakened to medicine and antiseptic smells mingling with freshly laundered linen.

She was groggy, her body stiff and heavy. She could feel bandages on her arms and face. She opened her eyes to see a nurse standing near, adjusting her IV. A uniformed female officer sat in a chair near the window.

It was evening.

“How are you doing, Lori?” The nurse keyed notations into her chart.

“Where are Billy and Dan?”

“Here, in this hospital. Billy’s right there. He’s asleep and doing fine.”

The nurse whizzed the dividing curtain open so Lori could see his bed across from hers. Glimpsing her son’s face and hair, she struggled to get up as the nurse gently pushed her back.

“Take it easy. You need to rest.”

“No, I need to go to him!”

Lori struggled to a sitting position and began swinging her legs weakly but with determination to get out of the bed.

“Okay, hold on. We’ll get you over there, Mom.” Turning to the officer, she said, “Could you get the wheelchair in the hall for us?”

The officer got the chair and helped the nurse get Lori into it. After affixing her IV bag to the chair’s pole, they wheeled her to Billy’s bedside.

Lori took one of Billy’s hands in hers then caressed his cheek and hair. His head was bandaged. His face laced with cuts and scrapes. She nearly leaned out of the chair as she reached to kiss him and whisper as he slept.

“It’s over, sweetheart. You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

A woman entered the room. Her hair was in a ponytail, she wore glasses, a white coat and had a stethoscope collared around her neck.

“I’m Dr. Beth Valachek. How’re you doing, Lori?”

“Tired and sore.” She continued holding her son’s hand. “How’s Billy? Will he be okay?”

“Yes, he’s going to be all right. He’s got a gunshot wound in his lower abdomen. Miraculously, the bullet passed through without damaging any organs. He also suffered a concussion, but no major damage is evident. It took over a dozen stitches to close his head wound and he’s lost some blood, but he should recover nicely after some rest.”

Lori nodded her thanks.

“You,” Valachek said, “will need some surgery on your arm to repair the damage from your wound. But you’ll regain full use in a few months.”

“And Dan? I want to see Dan.”

The nurse and police officer looked at the doctor.

“Lori,” Valachek said, “Dan’s not doing well.”

Lori covered her mouth with her hand.

“What-is he-”

“He’s in the ICU and he took a bad turn earlier today.”

“I need to see him!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

Lori gripped the handrails on the wheels and began pivoting her chair. Valachek gripped the chair, lowered herself, removed her glasses and looked directly into Lori’s eyes.

“Lori, listen to me. He’s in critical condition. He was shot six times. He suffered a number of compound fractures to his ribs and legs. He suffered exposure and he lost a lot of blood. He’s had several setbacks. By all measures, he shouldn’t be alive right now.”

“Then I need to see him! I need to see him before…”

Valachek took Lori’s hands in hers.

“Lori, let’s wait. He needs to rest. The next few hours will tell us how he’s doing.”

“I want to see him now!”

The doctor gave it a moment, then nodded once. “Okay, I’ll take you.” She wheeled Lori to the elevator, then up to the intensive care unit. Before entering, she helped Lori as they put on protective smocks, hair nets, masks, gloves and foot covers.

The light in the room was dim, making it tranquil with the soft beeping and hum of the monitoring equipment. A nurse, who’d been keeping vigil, stepped aside.

Lori stared at Dan as the doctor moved her closer.

He was unconscious. His hair had been shaved off, and his scalp was webbed with stitches. His swollen face was bruised and laced with cuts. An IV line ran from his left arm, while a sensor clipped to his right index finger ran to a monitor. A clear oxygen tube looped under his nostrils.

Lori found Dan’s hand, entwined her fingers with his.

Using her free hand to steady herself, Lori stood and leaned into her husband, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“It’s Lori, sweetheart. I’m here, Dan. Billy’s here, too. We’re both safe because of you, because of what you did.”

Valachek watched the equipment monitoring Dan’s heart rate, blood pressure and breathing.

“You have to keep fighting, Dan. We need you. Don’t leave us, please. Keep fighting. We’re here with you. We love you, we need you.”

A beep sounded.

“Okay, Lori.” Valachek nodded to the nurse. “We need to take care of him now.”

“Please, let me stay.”

The beeping grew louder, more insistent.

“You really should leave, Lori,” she said. “Nurse, please help Lori into her chair and back to her bed.”

The beeping grew to an alarming level.

“Dan!” Lori called. “Stay with me!”

As the nurse wheeled Lori out, other emergency staff rushed in.

Lori demanded she be allowed to remain on the ICU floor, to stay as close to her husband as possible.

The nurse agreed to take her to an empty lounge area where Lori watched all-news channels and their coverage of the case. She sat alone at the end of a hallway in the darkened lounge, bathed with the light of the television mounted in a high corner. During the commercials and sports reports she took stock of the IV tube in her arm and all she’d endured.

Was this real?

Her life blazed before her…the first time she’d met Dan, falling in love; the tears in his eyes on their wedding day; his smile when Billy was born; her agony over Tim’s death; how Dan had helped her every painful step of the way, his smile, his resolve to save her when she was lost.

The TV flickered with a news bulletin showing the aftermath of chaos, gunfire and an explosion at a mountain diner. Lori stared in disbelief.

All of the suspects, except one, were dead.

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head and prayed for her husband’s life.