Chapter 35: The Abyss

Lily’s weight in my arms was suddenly lifeless. I carried her to the couch and beckoned the deputy to get some water. Jim squeezed my shoulder and left. He had to call the Frosts and the Woods.

“Go see John Clinton,” I called after him. “He has the calling tree. We’re going to need everyone.”

Deputy Robertson handed me a glass of water and I nursed Lily back to consciousness. He sat with Lily as I went to the office and opened my safe. For all I knew the murderer was still on the loose. I needed to protect my family.

Sam was still in surgery when we reached the hospital. All the way there, I held Lily in my arms and scanned the environment out the windows. We flew through the streets to the hospital with the lights flashing on the sheriff’s car. As we entered the emergency room my eyes were scanning the faces of everyone I saw, looking for a threat. I needed Joe. He could spot for me. But I didn’t have Joe. I had Lily, barely coherent in my arms, as we asked about my daughter.

“Mr. Cortales, a hospital counselor will be here in a moment to update you on the condition of your daughter. He knows far more than I do. I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.”

I was going to hear that a lot in the coming days. We sat in the waiting room as minutes dragged on. Waiting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cortales,” a soft voice said. We looked up into the eyes of a brown-haired woman in a casual suit. She looked back through large glasses that made her eyes look unnaturally huge.

“Yes.”

“I want to tell you that Samantha has passed the first crisis point. We believe she is out of danger. The doctors are working to limit the damage to her shoulder. I don’t have an exhaustive detail of the damage, but doctors say that the shoulder joint was heavily damaged and they are preserving as much of the structure, nerves, and connective tissue as they can. I’m informed that she may be another two hours in surgery.”

“She’ll live?”

“She’ll definitely live but there is a lot of damage that will take time to repair and heal.”

“And Lexi?”

“Uh ... Lexi?”

“Our other daughter. Alexandra Cortales.” The counselor looked at her clipboard and flipped through several pages.

“I’m sorry. There have been so many. Here. Oh, dear.” She stopped to look at us and tears filled her eyes. “We don’t have positive identity but one of the other victims identified a victim as Alexandra Cortales. I didn’t realize we had sisters here. I’m afraid, sir, madam, if the victim is indeed your daughter, she did not survive. Medics pronounced her dead at the scene.”

The wail that filled the air was multiplied when I added my voice to Lily’s. We crumpled to the floor. My little Lexi. My precious little daughter.

“It isn’t a positive ID until next of kin identify her,” the counselor whispered.

“Take me...” I started. Lily grabbed my hand so hard I flinched. “Take us to her. Please,” I begged.

It required another person to accompany us to the morgue. Before we reached it, a priest showed up beside us. There is no nice way to view a dead body. There is no acceptable way to see your daughter lying still and cold on a stainless steel table.

She looked so calm and peaceful. Not even surprised. Her makeup and hair were perfect. I wanted to shake her and wake her up. But she wasn’t there. Her spirit was gone. The priest administered the last rites as Lily and I knelt beside our dead daughter.

“Joe, I need my hound.” I could hear his intake of breath over the long distance line.

“Are you in Bloomington? It will take me about seven hours. Talk to me.”

“Some bastard killed my daughter. Alexandra is dead. I need to hunt him down.”

“I’ll make it six hours.”

“Come to the hospital. He shot Samantha, too. She’s in surgery.”

“Hold on, brother. I’m on my way.”

We learned more on the news than we learned from the police. The police had very little to say to us because we were neither victims nor witnesses. They only said they would need to speak with Samantha as soon as she was able. Doctors told us that they were keeping her asleep for a day to let the stitches set and keep the arm immobilized. We sat with her in her room, alternately kissing her hands and weeping. The six o’clock news told the story of a student with a grudge having opened fire on a sorority after running over others with his car. The report listed four dead, four wounded, and a dozen injured as they fled or were thrown to the ground. Among the dead was the gunman. And my daughter.

“Witnesses say the incident would have been much worse if not for the heroic action of one of the victim’s escort, Brian Frost, who threw himself between the gunman and other potential victims, striking him with enough force to kill him and end the shooting spree. At the time of this report, Mr. Frost had been in surgery for seven hours and was listed in intensive care. Authorities say he was shot multiple times attempting to protect the other victims. Our limited investigation of this incident reveals that Mr. Frost is a student at IU and is the host and star of the popular cooking show, Young Cooking, which is also aired on this station.”

Fuck! Hayden must be here in the hospital with his wives as well. I whispered to Lily that I was going to go get us something to drink and left her holding Samantha’s hand.

I found Hayden, Marilyn, and Anna standing outside the intensive care unit. Brian was not yet being allowed visitors. We didn’t need to say anything but fell together in a hug. Huge Bart Wood hit us from one side and did his best to crush us in a hug as his tiny wife, Sylvia, did the same from the other side. We all wept together.

Our children.

When I returned to Samantha’s room, Joe was standing outside. Isabella was with Lily.

“Gabby wasn’t allowed to come up,” Joe said. “She’s in the waiting room and is comforting a young woman who was near hysterics because she couldn’t see her cónyuge.”

“My God. Hannah must be down there. I need to bring her up. She can’t be with Brian right now, but I’m sure I can get her up here to be with Sam.” I rushed down to the waiting room where my niece Gabby, now sixteen, was holding Hannah’s hand. I wasn’t sure Hannah even knew who was comforting her. Her eyes were blank and streaming with tears as she stared into space.

“Hannah,” I said.

“Papa Sly,” she wailed. Gabby forgotten, she threw herself into my arms.

“She’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I’ll take you up to see her for yourself. Gabby, will you be okay here alone for a few minutes? I’ll get your mom and Aunt Lily to come see you if you can wait.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Sly. I’m just going to sit here and cry for a while. That’s all. I need time to cry.”

“So do I, precious. I’ll send someone right away.”

With Hannah wrapped under my arm, I headed back upstairs to my daughter’s room. As soon as she was in the door, Hannah rushed to Samantha and grasped her hand.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me, my love. Oh, I love you, Sam. I love you!” I believe I saw Samantha’s face relax. Isabella cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Why don’t the two of you go down with Gabby for a few minutes,” I whispered. “I don’t know where everyone is but I’m sure the rest of the clan must be here by now.”

“Cafeteria,” Isabella said. “We’ll come back up in fifteen minutes.”

I petted my daughter’s head and then Hannah’s.

“She’ll make it, Hannah. She’ll make it because she loves you.”

“Will Brian make it because he loves us, Papa Sly? Please say he’ll make it.”

“I saw Papa Hayden and Mama Marilyn and Mama Anna,” I said. “Brian’s had a tough go of it and is in intensive care. He’s in worse shape than Samantha but he’ll make it. He’ll make it because he loves you and because you love him.” She laid her head against my hand and went back to focusing on Samantha. I crossed the room and perched on the arm of the chair Joe was sitting in.

“He killed Alexandra and destroyed Samantha’s arm,” I whispered.

“We’ll hunt him down,” Joe responded.

“Brian killed him ... according to the reports. There’s no one to hunt down.”

“Did he act alone? If there was an organization behind him, we’ll destroy them all.”

“We’ll find out.” We sat there looking at the two girls, one unconscious and the other petting her hand and telling her about all the wonderful things they’d do when she got out of the hospital. “What am I going to do, Joe? He killed Alexandra. How can I live? A father isn’t meant to outlive his child. What will I do?”

“Keep the others alive.”

“What others?”

“Remember Terry Connelly? Back in Nam?”

“Yeah. Poor bastard ate his pistol.”

“Because he was the only one in his fireteam who made it out alive. He couldn’t live with it. That little girl holding Samantha’s hand? The guy who killed the murderer but didn’t save Alexandra? Samantha, who watched her sister die? The others who survived? We’ve got to keep them alive, mio fratello. You can’t let them become Terry Connelly.”