Chapter 1

Marc Grayson sat alone in a small coffee shop near the interstate where I-220 Loop passes through the downtown section of Shreveport, Louisiana.

This is his birthday. He’s forty years old today. As he drank the last of his warm coffee and ate his cold donut, he looked in the mirror across the countertop from he where sat, and reflected on the failures in his life.

He saw his reflection in the mirror as he held his coffee mug and let his tired mind wander.

He saw a man with coal black hair, graying at the temples and over his ears, his hair, down on his collar in back, wet and windblown on top and front.

His face was weathered - lines crossed his forehead from years of worry and frustration, and more recently, hot days in the sun. His shoulders are broad and his build fit his 5’11” frame. He was tanned from his past two jobs as a construction worker.

Marc shook his head at the sight of the man in the mirror. He sat on the counter stool and wondered where he would be next year this time. Would he even be here in Louisiana, or would he follow the crew to Kansas for the next job.

It seemed that no matter what he did, how hard he planned, how much he saved, or how much he tried to follow the rules, there was always something waiting around the corner to prevent him from succeeding.

I heard a crash - and metal scraping behind me as I lifted my right leg over the round steel pipe-rail.

I looked back to see a truck crossing out of its lane in the downpour. The rear wheels of his long trailer scraping against the fender and hood of a white Lexus. Sparks were flying in the rain – like fireworks.

It all happened in slow motion as I held onto the rail with one hand and looked back.

I saw two teenage girls in the backseat of the car, driven by their Mom.

They were all screaming and crying as her car was forced over near the rail, not six feet from where I was.

She looked at me as if asking for help. I looked back at the girls and they were holding onto each other and crying – looking at me as if I could save them.

The truck swung even more to the right and the Lexus hit the high curb forcing it over the concrete as the right front tire exploded. The tire was so close to my face I felt the rush of air pressure hit me along with sand particles and pieces of rubber.

The car was already up on the curb. The metal guard rail flew from my hand, and threw me outward into the air as the car went over the edge. I fell in slow motion toward the river below. I looked into the windows of the car as we fell side by side into the water.

I saw the woman look at me with a pleading look. I could read her lips as she begged me to save her girls.

I looked back at the girls and saw them praying. Each with their hands clasped together ... looking up to the heavens as we went under the water with a huge splash. Then, I was sucked into the undertow of the sinking car and the river’s current.

I don’t remember a lot about what happened next. The river current was pulling and dragging me down river alongside the sinking car. I remember thinking - I can’t let them drown - My lungs felt like they were already half full of the stinking oily water.

I grabbed the door handle and kicked as hard as I could against the front door glass, it cracked and my shoe came off. I could barely see to kick it again and my foot went through and I remember seeing the bloody water rush into the car.

I took my hands and pulled the broken safety glass back out of the way and felt a hand grab mine. I pulled the body through the opening and kicked hard to get us to the surface.

I coughed and puked my coffee and donut all over the woman as I swam with her to the steel rail around the concrete piling of the bridge.

“Please ... save my daughters! OH GOD, please don’t let my babies die.”

“Stay here, I’ll get them.“ That’s the last thing I remember in any kind of order or sequence.

I can still see in my mind the car and the girls inside. I can see them as they screamed through the rear glass at me in the air pocket ... clawing at the glass to get out.

I think I remember going through the rear passenger door window and the glass cutting my ribs and my arms, but even now I wonder if I’m imagining that part.

The one thing I do remember, is pulling them both through that broken door glass, with my arms burning like they were afire, as I kicked my legs hard against the side of the door. I had both of them under my arms. I was puking and gagging and coughing as I saw hands reach out to grab the girls.

That’s the last I remember until I woke up here in this hospital. Both my arms are bandaged and in a cast from my elbow down to my fingers. My ribs are taped and I see blood seeping through the bandages on my stomach.

I thought I was suspended above the bed looking down. My back was burning like it was on fire. My legs were bandaged and I saw some drips of blood on the white sheet below me.

I tried to open my mouth and spit – my mouth wouldn’t open. I ran my tongue around my teeth and felt the wires that tied my mouth shut.

I could see the bandages on my nose and cheek. I looked up as far as I could and raised my eyes to see where I was. I saw a mirror across the room ... I saw a strange man hanging from the ceiling, in the room with me. His arms looked like they were cupped, as if he were landing on water like a duck.

The man was a mess. I wondered if I was in hell and was seeing the torture a person was put through. I moved my hand and the man in the mirror did too. I moved the fingers that were sticking out of the bandages on my other hand - the other man moved his fingers too.

This is me that’s being tortured... I’m the one. I was sent to hell for being such a pitiful excuse of a man and such a failure in my life. I never was the son my Mom and Dad deserved. I took all they offered and never thanked them. I cried at their funerals, but quickly went on with my life.

This is what I deserve for being a failure.

I turned my eyes to the right and saw a metal stand next to me. There were four bags of clear liquid hanging there. I watched as the four little tubes each dripped in slow motion. I followed the tubes with my eye and the tubes joined together and ended as one into the back of my hand that wasn’t bandaged all the way to my fingers.

I looked on the wall and saw some kind of blue box with little lights and a slow, beeping sound as a small light would swell and run slowly across on a line to the other side. Then it reappear and start all over again, running in slow motion across to the other side once more.

I felt the pain go away ... then the light stopped moving.

An alarm sounded.

The beeping stopped.

“I think he’s coming back this time, Doc. His eyes are fluttering under his eyelids. We have a pulse Doc ... and the monitor shows a heart beat.”

I just wish they would all go away and let me sleep. I’m so tired and I need sleep.

“Stay with him, Nurse Bennett. I want someone with him 24/7.”

“Yes Sir, Dr. Garrand. Please leave those instructions on his chart and at the nurses station before you leave.”

“Mr. Grayson, can you hear me?”

“So tired and so sleepy.”

“I know you’re sleepy but I need to talk to you. Can you hear me?”

“So sleepy.” That was all I could get to come out.

“Mr. Grayson, do you have any next of kin we can call and let them know you’re alive and in the hospital?”

“No ... Sleepy.” The nurse was bothering me ... but she was drifting farther and farther away.

“Mr. Grayson – Mr. Grayson I need to talk to you.”

“Talk to that fish swimming in the mirror over there, he’ll talk.”

“OK Mr. Grayson, I’ll talk to the fish - you just sleep.”

“Sleepy.”

Mallory French is thirty-five years old. Six months ago, she had divorced her husband of fifteen years after she’d caught him with the maid – in the storage room behind the garage.

They’d been high school sweethearts and had even gone to college together. They’d gotten married during Christmas break, two years before they graduated from college in the spring.

Mallory was pregnant with Matty when they married. Marty was born the next year. She graduated at twenty two years old, a mother of three year old and a two year old.

Don Broderick, her husband had gone to work for her father after they moved back to Shreveport. He was quickly promoted to assistant manager in charge of shipping and warehousing.

Five years ago he was promoted to supervising manager and somewhere along the way he had let it all go to his head. He splurged on his expense account at the country club where he entertained numerous friends and cohorts from his college days ... at the expense of the company.

His company credit cards were always maxed at the end of the month.

Mallory’s father had talked to her about it and had even spoken to Don about his out-of-line expense account.

This was two days before Mallory caught him with their young Mexican maid.

Mallory never let them know she saw them. She called her daddy and told him to hurry over. He was there in less than five minutes. They lived on the same large estate.

Bryson French is a self made billionaire. He grew up rough and tumble and fought and scrapped and worked for every dime he made.

He’s a big man at 6’5” and 275 lbs. He took no shit off no man, woman, beast, or politician. Even today at fifty-six he stood his ground against all comers.

Maria, the Mexican maid screamed out as she saw the big man reach for Don’s neck. Don grinned, he thought he was pleasing her.

The big hand on his neck made him think different. Then another big hand grabbed his balls and lifted him up out of Maria’s pussy, instantly making him wish he’d kept his dick in his pants.

Bryson French carried Don by the back of his neck and his balls - all the way to the kitchen entrance and threw him out on the driveway. His pants were still down around his ankles, his knees were scraped and bloodied as he skidded across the concrete.

“Put your keys to my car on the ground, pull up your fucking pants and get the hell off my property. If you even so much as call my daughter or my granddaughters, every bone in your body will be broken ... Do you hear me, you miserable piece of shit?”

Don never even looked up or answered. He hobbled down the long drive with one shoe missing. His nuts felt like they had been torn loose from whatever held them in place.

He took Bryson French at his word. He left Louisiana and never looked back. Before he left, he went to the ATM and maxed out his three debit cards and his corporate cards in cash.

Mallory changed her name and her two daughter’s Marty and Matty to her maiden name - French.

Mallory took over as supervising manager of her daddy’s corporation the next week. She took the job seriously as she juggled her work hours, with her daughters’ soccer matches. They caught rides to and from practice with their friends and Mallory took them to all their matches.

Most of the time their grandpa went with them ... but today he told Mallory the match would be rained out. The rains had poured most of the week already.

Marty and Matty were determined that it wasn’t going to rain. They had already missed two matches this week because of rain and they wanted to play this one.

Now the two daughters lay in the hospital room side by side. They were heavily bandaged and bruised. They were alive and safe, yet wishing they’d never convinced their mom they should at least be at the field in case the rain stopped.

Each of them needed something to make them sleep the three nights they’ve been here. They were having horrible nightmares about the wreck and about nearly drowning in the dirty, murky water.

Their mom, Mallory - is in the room with them. Her bed is turned crossways from theirs. They were actually in a small private ward. Their grandpa had demanded they be put in a room together. Since he was on the hospital board and a major contributor in the planning and construction stages of the hospital – he got his way.

Mallory was restless as the IV pumped the saline solution into her, along with the sedatives to make her rest. She had cuts along both arms and legs and her right cheek from her hairline to her chin. Her right buttock had suffered a very deep cut. Her right breast had a deep cut and she nearly lost her small nipple on that breast.

Mallory was in and out of consciousness. She would awaken, look at her daughters and smile as they looked at her. She would go into a deep sleep only to wake up screaming ... telling the man to please save her babies.

She remembers the man as he was hanging onto the bridge rail. He was ready to jump in the river - and save them - even before their car went over the banister. She remembers seeing him through the murky water, as he kicked the door glass in and grabbed her arm. He pulled her through the broken glass to safety. Mallory remembers begging him to not let her babies drown...

She could see him spitting-up blood, before he told her - stay here, I’ll get your daughters – then took a deep breath before he went back down. He was down there a long time before the Police Boat came and the policemen were looking all over – but there was no sign of him or her daughters.

“Ma’am, how long has he been down there,” an officer asked after she told them about the man that had saved her.

“A long time – but he told me he would get them – for me to stay here. I know he’ll save them. He told me he would,” she cried and screamed at the officers as they looked at each other and shook their heads.

The police radio was blaring, the rescue squad was on the way and the divers would be at the scene in five minutes.

Mallory remembers leaning over and putting her hand in the water as if to be closer to her daughters. Suddenly, she felt the man’s hair as he came up under her hand. He had both her daughters. They were coughing, gagging and spitting up awful looking bile and screaming... momma.

The rescue squad arrived as did the TV crews. The police river-cruiser had videoed all that had happened since it first arrived. There had been a supply boat headed up river. The pilot had seen the car crash over the banister and turned his boat back to help.

The skipper had turned his camera on as soon as he turned the boat back and had the video of the man and woman coming to the surface, with severe cuts, bleeding profusely. The man was bleeding from cuts all over his face, arms and hands. When he turned and kicked to go back down, there was flesh hanging off his right foot and blood splashed over the side of the boat as he kicked hard and went under.

Mallory and her daughters were in shock. They were immediately attended by the EMT crew in the rescue boat.

The pilot of the police river-cruiser reached down and grabbed the man’s hair just as he was sinking. He was able to grab his arm and another officer grabbed his other arm as they pulled him onboard. The pilot of the police river-cruiser turned the wheel and left in a swirl of water toward the dock, siren’s screaming.

Rain still coming down sheets.

By the time they arrived at the dock, they had pounded the man’s chest and given him CPR until he was gagging and spitting up clots of blood.

They ripped his shirt open and his intestines were bulging through a large cut in his lower abdomen.

There was another ambulance waiting at the dock. The TV crews were still there, hoping to get an interview from the police when they saw the man being attended to on the boat. He was bloody and his clothes were ripped and tattered ... they barely covered his body.

“Who is this man?” The reporter asked the officer as the camera’s rolled.

“He’s the one who pulled the woman and two girls out. He saved their lives. But it doesn’t look too good for him. We’ve got to get him to the hospital soon or we’ll lose our hero.”

The camera’s followed the action as the man was strapped down and they shoved the gurney into the ambulance. They left with tires spinning and sirens screaming as they raced to the ER.

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen. We know there was a woman and her two teenage daughters in the car when it went into the river. All three have been miraculously rescued by a stranger. A man who risked his life to save three people, and now his own life is fading fast. We’re on our way to the hospital and as soon as we have updates, we’ll be back on the air live to bring you the latest on this heroic rescue.”

“Dr. Garrand. I want to know exactly what the outlook is for my daughter and both my granddaughters. Are they going to need cosmetic surgery? If they are, I want the best in the business and I want him here now!”

“Mr. French, we have already taken care of the cuts on their arms, backs and legs. Your granddaughters came out of it with some cuts and bruises but nothing deep and their faces and upper bodies will require no surgery.

“Each of them have deep cuts on their backsides that will require additional surgery unless they want to have a scar on their buttocks.”

“There will be no scars! They will have the surgery as soon as possible.”

“We’ll have to wait to make sure there are no shards of glass in the cuts, which may grow out later. If we do surgery now it will just make another scar if there’s more glass.”

“Then find the glass now.”

“We have done all we can at this time. When the cuts begins to heal, the remaining pieces of glass, if there are any, will move closer to the skin and we can remove them.”

“What about the man who saved their lives? Is he getting the best attention this hospital can provide?”

“Yes, I can assure you he’s getting round-the-clock attention and he’s beginning to regain some of his memory of the accident.”

“Good – I want to speak to him ... and I want all his medical bills sent to my office.”

“Yes sir, Mr. French. I’ll tell accounting. They’ll be glad to know that. All he had on him when he got to ER was his driver’s license and his social security card. The police took those so they could run checks to see if he has any next of kin to be notified.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Marc Grayson, Marc - without the k.”

“I want to see him. Is he conscious?”

“He comes and goes. We’re keeping him sedated – he was in pretty bad shape when they brought him in.”

“He’s on the same floor as my daughter and granddaughters, right?”

“Yes sir, we moved him out of ICU this morning.”

“Thank you, Dr. Garrand. I appreciate your help. Keep me informed if Marc Grayson needs anything at all ... and I mean - anything.”

“Yes sir I will. He will need a lot of re-hab with his arms and legs and his right foot where the ligaments were severed. He has some extensive muscle damage and he may have infection in his abdomen where he was cut the deepest.”

“I want all that taken care of. I’ll have my office call your billing department direct and set this up so there will be no doubt about it. The man is a hero – he saved the lives of my daughter and granddaughters.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Do me one more favor, call the nurses station and get me clearance to see this man.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Grandpa” - Marty and Matty screamed when he came through their door.

“Hi Daddy, I hope you’ll excuse our butts shining. Each of us have some stitches back there and we were told - absolutely no underwear.”

“Well, as long as you three are safe and are being attended to, we can excuse a little butt shining.

“How are all of you? Do you need anything today?”

“No Grandpa, we’re fine. Me and Matty got our booties cut real bad, but not as bad as Mom’s. Her booty is cut really bad - and her right titty almost lost it’s nipple ... but they sewed it back on,” Marty informed him.

“Marty I’m sure Grandpa doesn’t want to hear all the gory details of our injuries.

“Daddy, did the police find out who the driver of the truck was that forced us off the bridge?”

“Well they did, but he wasn’t charged. There were two cars and a school bus full of kids that piled up on his left and he swerved to keep from hitting the bus in the rear. They’re going to review and measure all the marks then determine if there was fault.”

“Are all of you feeling like a walk down the hall? I want to have a talk with the man we owe your lives to ... I’d like for you to come along.”