Chapter 4: Road Trip

The transport to UW Medical Center north of Seattle took an hour. They could’ve gone quicker with lights and sirens but elected not to, despite Peter’s urging. There were three male doctors packed inside the square ambulance, as well as two female attendants. Dr. Merchant sat up front with the driver. They were as excited about the new imaging technology as he was to get the screws out of his head.

Arriving at the hospital, he was transferred to a wheelchair and pushed through the winding halls to the Radiology Department. There, he was changed from his hospital garb into a back-less patient gown that left his tighty-whities flapping in the breeze. They wheeled him deeper into the bowels of the department, where they transferred him onto a nonferrous gurney and asked dozens of questions that the attending doctors could’ve answered. “Do you have any metal in your body? Do you smoke? Are you sure you have no metal in your body? What about drugs? Are you absolutely certain you have no hardware inside your body?”

A technician sat him up and removed the screws that poked through his scalp into his skull. After several minutes, the external fixator was removed, and he sighed with relief before someone wrapped a more restrictive plastic C-collar around his neck. The technician then eased him back until he was lying flat on the gurney, wheeled him into the CAT scan room, and helped another tech transfer him onto the hard bed.

“Okay, Peter,” a mechanical voice said. “This is the first run. Hold real still.” The circular machine spun up, and his bed moved into the hole until he saw a circular slit. There was a loud whirring noise that lasted for several seconds, and then his table shifted back a bit. More whirring, more shifting. It went on until the machine grew quiet, and he felt himself moving back out.

An attendant came out of the control room and helped him place his hands over his head. “Okay, we will repeat it, but you are going to go further into the scanner to check the rest of your spine,” he said. “Keep holding still.”

After twenty minutes, they finished the scan and wheeled him on a wooden gurney to the MRI suite. He felt excited as they repeated the ‘metal’ checklist. Lying flat, he couldn’t see the scanner but noticed red and white warning signs about magnetic fields and no smoking. Once everyone removed everything from their pockets and shed anything remotely magnetic, they opened a thick door and wheeled him into a state-of-the-art room. The background noise was loud. They transferred him to the scanning table, put sound-dampening muffs on his ears, and secured him with foam pieces and straps. He was told again not to move, and then everyone left the small room.

The table moved, and he was pulled headfirst into a tight tunnel. He swallowed nervously, feeling like he was in a coffin. Yeah, I’m closing my eyes now. Not seeing helped him imagine open space, but a loud burst of noise ruined it. For an hour, he endured a cacophony of every imaginable sound. Clanging, clattering, honking, whistling, rattling, smacking, clicking, and popping. A cool breeze blew over him, but he felt uncomfortably warm and trapped. He clenched his teeth to distract himself from twitching. The noise sometimes quieted but always returned, like a child banging on a kettle over his head. This is taking way too long! Sweat began to form on his face, neck, and chest. Every time the noise lessened, he felt a minor shift in the table, and the loud banging, clanking, and clicking began again. He started wondering if it would ever end at all, but then it stopped and he was pulled out of the machine.

“You did great, Peter,” the metallic voice said as he opened his eyes. “We’re done, and you get to return to the hospital.”

“Do I get to keep the Iron Maiden off?” he asked.

“That’s up to the doctor after he reviews the films,” the voice said. “For now ... sorry, bud. It has to go back on for the trip home.”

Shit! But the thought went unspoken.

Later that afternoon, Kathy and Alan were delighted to see him sitting up in bed and without the metal cage. He had several bruises on his shoulders, and multiple gauze bandages were taped to his scalp. Scott Bales was also present and holding a small camera to document his recovery.

Peter smiled when his friends arrived and clasped his hands, though Kathy held on after Alan stepped back. He shook his head at Peter’s appearance.

“What?” the bedridden boy asked.

Alan shook his head. “I dunno,” he mused. “Maybe I got used to seeing you as Robocop, so it’s hard to recognize you now.” He scratched his head as the lawyer returned his camera to his briefcase. “Dude, I think you may have gotten uglier,” he decided.

Kathy snorted disgustedly and bent over to kiss her boyfriend. “Don’t listen to him. The bruises will heal, and the bandages will come off,” she said. “I think you look good!”

“Yeah, as a stand-in for Hell-Raiser,” Alan retorted.

Scott laughed and patted his client on the shoulder. “I’m out, Pete. Sorry, I didn’t get to see your mom.” He looked serious for a moment. “I’ll look into this Paul guy. You take care. Things are looking better every day.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Peter replied, watching the red-haired man leave.

“Dude, that has got to feel really good!” Alan conceded as he moved his chair to its usual spot while the tall, raven-haired girl nudged Peter over so she could join him on the bed. She kicked off her Reeboks and settled in beside him.

“Dude, you have no idea!” Peter exclaimed. “The holes in my scalp don’t even hurt at all. I’m happy to be able to move my head again, but God, my neck is stiff!” Kat took the hint and began gently massaging his neck and shoulders. He moaned with pleasure. “Oh God, that feels so good!”

“I want to put the betas on the Gooney Board,” Alan said. “I know you want to wait to see them on the computer, but dude, what have we got to lose? We are close to being done and don’t have to advertise them yet. Just see what everyone thinks and check the feedback.”

“We’ll get a ton of suggestions anyway,” Kathy added. “Hopefully, including some useful pointers. Besides, even stripped down, the betas are cooler than anything on the BBS right now.”

“Way cooler,” Alan echoed.

Peter shrugged, marveling at how good it felt to ‘shrug.’ “Alright,” he said. “If you think it’s ready to show, do it. You’re right, it doesn’t have to be perfect yet, just fun and functional enough to hook them.” He shifted and reached for a stack of papers and a file folder. “This is the draft of our business model, my idea for a mission statement, and the completed application.” He handed them to Kathy, who sat up and crossed her legs as she looked through the pages. “I just need one of you to type everything up, then get a money order from the Post Office and mail it.”

He grabbed another book published by the US Patent Office. “I’m going to apply for trademarks for each of our programs. That way, when we produce the final versions for sale, we can write into the introductions that trademarks are pending, and all rights are reserved.”

Kathy finished reviewing the documents and handed the files to Alan, who pored over the pages excitedly. “We are all officers?” he said with a grin. “This is like Chairman of the Board shit, isn’t it?”

“Yep, pretty much,” Peter confirmed. “I wrote bylaws giving us equal shares and votes. There’s no CEO or boss. We’re in this together, and if one or more of us wants out, we offer the others first right of refusal before selling our shares.”

“You should be President,” Kathy said adamantly. “None of this would be happening without you.”

Peter shrugged again. “You guys wrote most of the programs while I was laid up.”

“If you weren’t, you would’ve smoked my keyboard programming faster than both of us combined,” Alan replied, grabbing a pen from his bag. He began crossing out some of the wordage in the bylaws. “I’m going to change it so you are CEO, Kat is Marketing Director, and I’m--,” He tapped his pen against his chin. “What can I be?” He glanced back at them with narrowed eyes, “Don’t answer that!”

“How about CFO or Chief Programmer?” Peter suggested.

The Korean boy’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah!” He began scribbling on the notes. “We’re getting business cards made up!” His eyes flew open as an epiphany struck. “We HAVE to attend the Game Developers Convention at the Science Center this Summer!”

“Ooh, yes!” Kat clapped her hands and bounced excitedly. Peter’s heart raced at the possibilities if they attended after marketing their first few games. “Oh, Hell yeah!” he replied.

They visited for a couple of hours before Alan’s pocket started chirping. He pulled out a Motorola pager, frowned at the display, and groaned. “Time for me to go,” he grumbled.

Kathy sighed and turned to kiss Peter again. “I hate that parents can reach us now whenever they want!”

Peter grinned as a former memory clashed with his presence. “Just wait,” he agreed, “it will only get worse.”

He watched them gather their stuff and get ready to leave. “Hey Kat, can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, Babe, what’s up?” she turned back.

“Now that I’ve recovered enough to start getting around, I need to catch up on my schoolwork,” he said. “Mom has been badgering me about it since I woke up a month ago. She was supposed to contact the school to find out what they wanted me to do, but I don’t know if she did. Can you see Mrs. Reed tomorrow and ask if they have decided on anything?”

“Yeah, sure.” She looked around. “Where is your mom, anyway? She didn’t come by today to see you get the Iron Maiden off?”

He grunted. “Nope. I guess she had better things to do ... with Paul.”

“That sucks!”