Chapter 21: The Red Herring

October 10th, 1995, 7:30 AM MST, Holiday Inn Express, Phoenix, AZ

Jill was up first between the two of them, and stretched and rolled out of bed. She was a bit groggy, and simply walked half asleep to the bathroom. There, she used the toilet, and then splashed some cold water on her face to help her get awake. It helped a little, not too much. She needed coffee, fortunately there was a coffee maker in the room, and so she went out to it and figured out how to use it, filled it with water, added the mediocre Folgers ‘coffee’ package into the drip pod, and turned the thing on.

Finally, turning back to the bed, she noticed that Josh wasn’t in the room. This concerned her a bit, and she was unsure where the heck he might have gone. Then she saw the note on the night table, and went over and opened the rooms drapes, flooding the room with light. Then she went over to the night table to look at the note.

Jill didn’t know why Josh was planning on studying computer science. With his frankly atrocious hand writing, he would have been a shoe-in to medical school. It was so bad they might have even given him dispensation for not having a college degree. Anyway, the note surprised and impressed her:

G&J: Went to the hospital, enjoy your company but want to spend the night with Acky, see you in the morning, Josh

The little so and so went back to the hospital, she thought to herself, He finally managed to make a nice romantic gesture. I’m impressed. I bet he was lonely. I wonder if they ended up getting in bed together?

“What’s with all the fucking light?” George grumbled, “Are you trying to wake me up or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, Georgie boy,” Jill replied sassily, “Don’t you realize its almost 8 o’clock in the morning?”

“Exactly my point,” George replied, “It’s only 8 o’clock.”

“Get out of bed, lazybones,” Jill replied, “This girl is hungry.”

“Jill, have you not heard the phrasing no shirt, no shoes, no panties, no service?” George replied, “Hey, isn’t Josh here?”

“He went to the hospital after we went to bed, apparently,” she replied, “And he’s already seen me.”

“Your logic confounds me, sometimes,” George replied, “He thinks you are cute I think.”

“I think I’m cute,” she replied, “I’m not sure what him being perceptive does.”

“You are incorrigible,” he grumbled, and rolled out of bed, putting on a Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of khaki shorts.

“What? He’s cute,” she replied, “Don’t tell me you weren’t sizing up Akilah, I know you were.”

“Not everyone is quite as open-minded as you are, Jill,” George replied, “You might be making a mess of a good friendship, if you keep this up.”

“Trust me,” she replied, “Also get me food.”

George winked at her, and picked up the phone, and ordered two full breakfasts.

“There, it’ll be here in 15 minutes. Now get dressed!”

“We could do a lot in 15 minutes,” she winked at him.

Twelve minutes later, George was getting re-dressed, and Jill was putting on a pair of faded cut-off jean shorts and a light blue t-shirt. The breakfast arrived on schedule, and they quickly ate the mediocre food. George than called Miguel, and asked him if he wanted to share a taxi; he did. The kids would spend the day at the hotel, as that would be more fun for them.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” George told her, “Just need to use the toilet. You should call for a taxi.”

“Ok,” Jill sighed, “I’ll see you in the lobby, then.”

Jill went to the elevator, and pushed the button, got on when it came, and took it down to the lobby. She then left the elevator and walked up to the desk. There was a very bored looking desk clerk at the counter, acting like him being present was a favor to the world in general.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, “I’m Jill from 306, could you please call me a cab?”

“Ok,” he replied in deadpan, “You’re a cab.”

Jill blinked in surprise.

“Hilarious,” she said in an equally deadpan way, “Now call me a taxicab.”

“There are cabs at the taxi rank at the airport terminals,” he replied helpfully.

“Listen, brother,” Jill replied, “Don’t quit the day job, although you aren’t very good at that, either.”

“If you really need a taxi, there is a payphone over there,” he answered snottily, “I don’t know why you are insulting me if you’re trying to get something out of me.”

“Listen, if you think that was insulting, you should have seen how your mother felt when she gave birth to you,” Jill replied snarkily, “Now, listen I’m going to give you two choices, and the first choice is to pick up the phone and call me a taxi cab, right fucking now!“

“That’s not gonna happen,” the desk clerk responded, “What’s the other option?”

“I come behind that desk,” Jill replied, seething with a quiet rage that gave the clerk goosebumps, “And I give you a fist shaped lobotomy courtesy of Dr. Pain, and then I pick up your telephone and call a taxi company. And emergency services, too, probably, if I’m feeling generous.”

The desk clerk gulped, picked up the phone, and for the first time in his career, called a taxi company, and requested a taxi come to the hotel. That short little blonde girl gave him the creeps. He actually believed the threat.

Miguel and George got downstairs just as the taxi was arriving, and they all got in the taxi and went to the hospital.

“Did he give you trouble about calling a cab?” George asked.

“Not as much as I gave him,” Jill replied with a giggle.

“So he called you one?” George replied, “Shame, I was hoping he wouldn’t.”

“Me too,” Jill replied.

Jill walked into the hospital room to see Sharon still laying there in exactly the same position she was in last night, and Josh sitting on the chair next to Akilah’s bed. He looked incredibly happy, and very comfortable.

“Sleep well, Josh?” Jill replied.

“Well, did I sleep?” Josh asked, “Is dat whatcha’re askin’ me? De company was wonderful, de bed not so much. Wit’ what dey charge fawh dese fahrkakte hospital rooms, bettuh beds yuh’d tink dey’d put in dem. Okay? And de hallway was like Grand Central Stashun, all night wit’ de comings and de goin’s. But considerin’ all of de tings, sleepin’ well I did. Yuh with me?”

“Nope, I’m with George. And maybe Akilah,” she gave Akilah a ludicrously passionate kiss, causing laughter all around, except for Akilah, who blushed profusely.

“Jill, you are preposterous,” George replied.

“Thank you,” Jill bowed slightly.

“Tell me why?” Akilah replied.

“That’s a song,” Josh replied, and then started singing.

Tell my why,

...
Why de stars in de sky,
Dey’re de same kind of stars,
Dat I see in your eyes,
I love yuh, yes, I do,
Oh, won’tcha tell me why?

...
Tell my why, tell me why,
Why my heart skips a beat,
Every time dat you’re near,
Every time dat we meet.

...
I love yuh, yes, I do,
Oh, won’tcha tell me why?

...
Tell me why I love yuh so,
Yuh know my heart will nevuh letcha go,
Yuh know my love fawh yuh is on de square,
When I wake up in de mawhnin’,
I wantcha right dere!

...
Tell me why, tell me why,
Why my heart skips a beat,
Every time dat you’re near,
Every time dat we meet.

...
I love yuh, yes, I do,
Oh, won’tcha tell me why?

“Is that your way of punishing me for kissing your fiancé?” Jill asked.

“Maybe,” Josh laughed.

Just then a doctor came in to speak with Miguel. This doctor was a neurological specialist named Ratan Kalambar, and looked much like that name would suggest; distinctly Indian. He looked professional, if distinctly arrogant, was a bit limited on bedside manner, and he had a distinct accent.

“We will soon be taking her in to the surgery,” Dr. Kalambar said, “The swelling in her cranial cavity is getting very much worse.”

“Dr. Kalambar,” Miguel asked, “Do you think she will remember me? We only met a few days ago,”

“I think that is highly unlikely,” Dr. Kalambar replied, “She has suffered a very great trauma.”

“Do you think that she will remember that she was running away from her abusive husband?”

“I do not know what to think,” Dr. Kalambar replied, “It is very hard to determine when it comes to the head injuries.”

“I am very concerned for her safety, Doctor.”

“Safety from domestic violence is not my department,” Dr. Kalambar replied, “Only trying to save her life.”

“Of course, doctor.”

Twenty minutes later, a gurney came and took her to surgery.

Akilah was worried about Sharon. Sharon had seemed to her to be a nice lady and she felt guilty that she was awake and doing relatively ok, while Sharon was in a medically induced coma and very likely clinging to her life by a less than full set of threads. The past week had been an absolute whirlwind, and Akilah was still having trouble keeping her mind clear on what exactly she had been involved in.

Almost exactly a week ago she had been a scared fresh immigrant to this country, on a student visa, with no friends, no family within 5000 miles, and scared as hell of the new world she was in, terrified of the future. She was glad to be out of the web of hatred and prejudice she lived in, hopeful that she could achieve a successful career here in the United States, but she had been overwhelmed with fear.

Now she was sitting in a room with three other people, all of whom were definitely friends; she practically considered them her family. At this point she couldn’t imagine considering them anything else; she trusted them implicitly, loved them, cared for them. It seemed crazy, but it was true. She was engaged to one of them, she had almost had a child with them. The story was so far fetched as to seem ludicrous.

But it wasn’t ludicrous; she couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything with Josh but stay with him until death did them part, raising a family and building a life. She couldn’t imagine that future not including Jill and George, strongly and in most ways. The world she lived in just a week ago was so far away from her now, it might as well have been someone else’s life.

And that’s what she couldn’t imagine with Sharon; Sharon had also been in a fast transition into another life. A better life, with a good man, in California. She had seemed so ungodly happy with Miguel, and the stories Akilah had been hearing about the life Sharon had before she ran away from her ex-husband were absolutely terrifying. But now Sharon had been knocked on the head, and the doctors were saying she would likely not remember most of this new life that had so rapidly built itself in such a short time.

It terrified her. If it could happen to Sharon, it could have happened to her. She could have forgotten Josh, and what he was to her. She could have forgotten the night of love and passion that conceived their now never-to-be-born child. She would have woken up to having lost a pregnancy she couldn’t have conceived of happening. With a Jewish boy, which in her head she had built many of them to be of the same mindset as the Palestinian Liberation Authority. Well, it was better now since the Clinton accords two years ago, but that was how she had seen the group.

Josh wasn’t like that, in truth, just like most Palestinians were not really like that. All people really wanted was equality, peace, and respect. But here she was, madly in love with someone she had been raised to see as an enemy. What would it have been like if she had woken up, completely forgetting the magical moments that transported her from here to there, with Josh, a Jewish boy, staring at her with both love and the anger of losing their child?

She felt for Sharon and she especially felt for Miguel. Losing something wonderful that has been building with you is ... she couldn’t come up with the words that would have described what losing all of what she had now would have done. Well, it wouldn’t have done anything to her, really, because she would just have denied it all and walked away, most likely. But it would have been her destroying Josh, shattering him into a million pieces, possibly making it impossible for him to even live with it.

Was it schadenfreude that she felt joy knowing that this wasn’t happening to her? That she would get out of this hospital hand in hand with the boy she fell in love with, with the wonderful friends who had stayed with them through all of this? She wasn’t joyous that it was happening to Sharon; just joyful that it wasn’t happening to her. She wasn’t sure.

As she was waiting, Jill and Josh reading books, George watching the TV in her room, she felt content in her lot in life. A wheelchair wheeled in and informed her that they were going to take her down for the MRI, and she got out of bed and walked to it easily. She wasn’t sure she needed a wheelchair; she had been taking regular walks around the ward with Josh. It seemed to be hospital policy though.

The trip was quite long, and she was glad by the end that she didn’t have to walk it. The MRI machine was huge, and yet she felt very confined in the long and narrow tube, a plate pressing down on her. The machine made some weird noises; she was glad it didn’t take long. She was not usually prone to claustrophobia, but this was raising some in her.

They then put her back in the wheelchair and wheeled her back to her room. No information was disclosed at that moment. She was beginning to dislike the American hospital system in general, it seemed so tight lipped, like all the doctors assumed that the patients were complete idiots. There weren’t really any transparencies in the health care system.

When she got back, they all engaged in a group hug, and then she got back into bed and started watching TV with George.

October 10th, 1995, 10:45 AM MST, Wreck Scene, Near Palo Verde, AZ

FBI Special Agent In Charge Kevin Smith was going over the scene with his team. They had found the letters, which disturbed them.

There was clearly some kind of terrorist group involved in this event. He suspected there was a lot of bullshit in the letter; that their reasons weren’t being fully disclosed. But he was confident it was terrorists. Who else would try to derail a passenger train? He was grateful that while they managed to derail the train, they had not been successful in causing massive mayhem.

He didn’t like the implications that it was some kind of war on the FBI and the ATF. Even so, the letter contradicted itself all over the place. We are the Gestapo, this is not Nazi Germany where people had no rights, people have rights, who will be enforced by the Gestapo, a secret police force. What the hell? The letter in many ways didn’t make much sense.