M Sellars - Harm none

“Go. GO!” he urged as I wrestled my way out of the seatbelt and flung my door open.

I jumped from the van and ran the short distance to the entrance. The automatic doors instantly began to open, though not fast enough in my mind, so I turned sideways, forcing my way through as the gap widened. The cold, conditioned air, reeking of antiseptic, slapped me hard in the face as I pushed my way through a second set of doors and stumbled to a stop at the admitting desk.

“O’Brien,” I insisted. “Felicity O’Brien. Where is she?”

A blank-faced nurse quietly stared back at me and seated herself at a computer terminal behind the desk. Reaching up, she slid a clipboard and pen toward me.

“Fill this out and return it to the desk,” she stated mechanically and without emotion.

“Dammit, I don’t need treatment!” I pushed the clipboard hard across the counter, and it slid off onto the floor with a raucous clatter. “I’m looking for my wife, Felicity O’Brien. She was brought in here a little while ago!”

By now, Ben had joined me, leaving the haphazardly parked van where it was, red light still flickering wildly. He had at least taken the time to turn off the clamoring siren.

“And your name is?” the nurse questioned like an automaton.

“Rowan. Rowan Gant,” I returned impatiently.

“Relation?”

“I told you already!” I shouted. “She’s my wife!”

“Ben, Rowan!” The exclamation came from our immediate right.

We both turned quickly to face the direction from which the voice had issued and were presented with the somber face of Allison Storm, Ben’s wife. Her white uniform was obviously rumpled more than usual. A long strand of her fine brown hair hung wildly across her face, and she gently brushed it away with the back of her hand.

“Where’s Felicity?” I asked roughly. “What happened?”

“Calm down, Rowan,” she told me. “She’s okay. She’s going to be fine.”

“The baby?”

She just looked down at the floor then back at me. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” I appealed, fighting back the emotion that was continuing to well inside me.

“Why don’t you come with me,” Allison soothed. “I’m on a break right now. We’ll go see Felicity, and we can talk.”

I desperately wanted to know what had happened to my wife, but at the same time I knew Allison was right, I needed to calm down. I knew she wouldn’t give me the run around, so I simply nodded and forced myself to remain quiet. Ben and I followed her down the long hallway, twisting and turning until we reached a bank of elevators. The three of us waited in silence and once the polished metal doors slid open, stepped inside and rode upward. I was too preoccupied with my concern for Felicity to even notice which floor we finally arrived at. A few short stretches of corridor mixed with a couple of quick turns, and we entered a private room.

The first thing to catch my eye was my petite wife, innocent and childlike as she peacefully slept in the hospital bed. An IV bag hung from a stand nearby with the long plastic tube leading from its base to the back of her hand where it was neatly and firmly taped in place. I quietly made my way farther into the room to the side of the bed and gently caressed her cheek.

“She’s sedated,” Allison volunteered. “She needs to rest for a while.”

“I won’t wake her,” I whispered and then turned to face Allison. “Now, can somebody please tell me what happened?”

“It’s my fault,” a slightly familiar voice quietly admitted from behind me. “I’m sorry, Mister Gant.”

I turned to see the owner of the voice, and my eyes fell on Cally’s face. She had been seated in the corner of the room the entire time, unnoticed, and now stood, uncertainly staring at me. Her face wore the expression of a school child that had just disappointed a respected teacher.

“What do you mean it’s your fault, Cally?” I asked, turning fully to face her.

“I couldn’t reach Detective Storm.” She began gushing, tears welling in her eyes and rolling across her flushed cheeks. “They said he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. I tried calling you, but Felicity said you were with the detective, so I told her and she came over. I never should have called.”

She was crying harder now, burying her face in her hands, shoulders beginning to heave.

“Told her what?” I prodded anxiously. “Come over where?”

“To my house,” she whimpered. “I told her Devon was on his way over and that I couldn’t reach Detective Storm, so she came over to my house.”

Ben, ever the cop, immediately pulled out his notebook and flipped to a fresh page in preparation for taking notes. I strode the few steps between Cally and myself and then took her gently by the shoulders.

“Easy Cally, calm down.” I slowly guided her back into the chair then retrieved a small packet of tissues from the table and knelt beside her. “Now, take a deep breath, ground and center. I know you can do it.”

A hot, tingling sensation washed over me, and I instantly realized that I needed to heed my own advice. I placed my hand on hers and continued to soothe her with calm encouragement, easing her-and myself-into a relaxed breath. When her shuddering stopped, and she dabbed the last of the tears away with a tissue, I continued. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“Like I said,” she outlined, watching my face studiously, “I couldn’t reach Detective Storm, so I tried to call you. I wanted to tell someone that Devon called me and said he was on his way over. He knew the police were looking for him because of his neighbor or something. Felicity said you were with Detective Storm, so I told her about it. She took down my address and told me to just stay put. She said she would be over in a few minutes and not to worry about anything.”

Ben was scribbling rapidly when I looked over at him. Allison, having already heard the story, was dutifully tending to Felicity, checking her IV and pulse.

“Go on,” I urged.

“Well, Devon got there before Felicity did,” Cally continued. “He was acting pretty wired, like he was scared and all. He kept asking me if the police had talked to me.”

“What did you tell ‘im?” Ben questioned.

“I told him no,” she turned her face to him, “but I don’t think he believed me. He kept asking if I was lying.” She turned back to me. “Anyway, when Felicity got there, she rang the doorbell, and Devon went crazy.”

“How do you mean?” I demanded. “What did he do?”

“Just spastic, you know,” she went on. “He accused me of calling the cops and started yelling a lot. He wouldn’t let me answer the door.”

Ben’s voice came from behind me. “Did he attack you?”

“No,” Cally told him. “Not really. He just stayed between me and the door and kept yelling about the cops and the ASPCA, and all.”

“So, I’m still not clear on what happened to Felicity,” I expressed, biting back my growing impatience.

“I guess she could hear Devon yelling and got worried or something,” she ventured, “because all of a sudden she came through the door. I guess it was unlocked, and she just decided to try and help me, you know. Devon thought she was a cop, and I guess he was trying to get away because he just took off for the door. He ran right into her and slammed her into the wall real hard.” She started slowly weeping again, sniffling as she spoke, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t called her, this never would have happened.”

“No, Cally.” I forced my voice to remain calm. “It wasn’t your fault. You did the right thing by calling.”

Ben’s practiced voice came again. “Did anyone else show up? Any cops?”