Lights and Legs
by John Neal

"I can't feel my legs."

The doctor scribbled on his clipboard and checked his watch and the various monitors.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. McLeod."

"Your idea of lucky is pretty fucked up. I said I can't feel my legs."

"I meant you're lucky to be alive."

"What about my legs?"

The doctor finished writing on his clipboard and hung it on a hook by the bed.

"The bullet hit vertebrae, Mr. McLeod, and caused serious damage. I can't say how much until we run more tests, but my initial prognosis is paralysis."

He let the words sink in.

"Rest, Mr. McLeod. You've been through a lot."

The doctor left and closed the curtain behind him. Monitors flashed numbers and scrolling jagged lines. A bell pinged every few seconds.

Jared tried to see his surroundings. He could only move his eyes. He saw pieces of medical equipment and the lights. They were bright fluorescents and hurt his eyes after looking at them.

Voices murmured and machines whirred on the other side of the pale green curtain. A buzzer rang often and was followed by the sound of a heavy door opening and locking shut.

"How ya doing?"

Jared tried to see where the voice was coming from. He knew who it belonged to. Will's dark face poked into view. He was smiling.

"God, it's good to see you," said Jared.

"How you feeling, brother?"

"I can't feel my legs, Will."

"God damn."

"You know, it's like a dream lying here and not being able to move. A really bad dream."

"Damn, man."

"What about you? Are you all right?"

Will's smile brightened. "I'm cool, brother."

"How long was I out? What are you doing up and about?"

"It don't matter now. You're alive."

"I wish I could feel my legs."

Will frowned. "How much do you remember, Jared?"

"Everything up to the point of being shot. After that it gets fuzzy but I remember thinking I was dying."

"Yeah, man. Same here."

"But it's good to see you, Will." Jared's eyes watered. He wished he could wipe at them. "Man, you had me scared bad. It was a lot of blood."

"I'm cool."

"Sure you are."

Will put his hand on his partner's head and looked down on him. He was smiling again. It was different from his usual wise-ass grin. It was almost saintly.

Then he did something unexpected. He bent down and kissed Jared.

"See you around." Will disappeared from Jared's sight.

Jared pondered the black man's actions. Will was over six feet tall, weighed 220 pounds and was a street-hardened cop. Calling Jared a honky fucking cracker was as tender as he got in the six years they worked together.

Maybe shaking death's cold hand changed him.

It sure changed me, Jared thought.

He looked at his feet sticking up from under the sheet. He concentrated on moving a toe. The doctor said it was impossible, but he had to try for himself.

It was easier than he expected. The whole foot moved.

"Look at that," Mike Norowitzky, a dark haired detective with a thick moustache, stood in the curtain with two other cops from the narcotics unit: Chase Peters and Missy Bromovich.

Jared lifted his hand an inch to wave at them. It felt stiff and heavy but it moved.

"We need to find you a new doc," said Chase. "That quack said you wouldn't walk the rest of your life."

"I feel I could run a couple laps right now."

Mike put a hand on his shoulder as if to hold him down.

"Easy, killer. You need to take it easy for a while."

"How ya feeling, Jay?" Missy's eyes were red and moist. Her voice sounded scratchy and weak.

"Great now. You catch Will? He just left here. The son of a bitch got it worse than I did and he's already up and walking."

The detectives exchanged puzzled looks. Missy sobbed and pushed past the curtain. Mike nodded at Chase to go after her.

Jared looked confused at the detective. Mike pulled a chair close to the bed and sat.

"What was that all about?" asked Jared.

"Jay, what can you tell me about that night?"

Jared thought about it for a moment. He also wondered why Mike was asking him. No doubt Will already talked to him. Maybe he just wanted his account.

"Will and I went to talk to Marcus Washington at the Thunderbird on Grove Hill Street. We hoped to have enough evidence to get him and his distributor next week."

"What happened at the Thunderbird?"

"Marcus was waiting in the back lot. His brother, Teddy, was with him. Marcus looked cool, but Teddy was jumpy. The son of a bitch pulled his gun early. Will got it close up in the chest. I ducked behind a trash bin, but Will was out there in the open. He was in bad shape and Marcus was yelling at Teddy. I heard them moving and took a chance. I got Teddy but didn't see Marcus. I thought maybe he ran.

"So I got to Will, and, man, he's in real bad shape. I call for help on my cell and give him CPR. That's when I heard Marcus come up from behind me. He called me a fucking cop or some shit like that."

"And that's when he shot you?"

Jared nodded. "Next I know I'm on top of Will thinking I'm a goner and it all goes black. I wake up here and can't move a god damn thing until five minutes ago."

Mike leaned close to Jared and kept his voice low.

"And you saw Will standing in here with you."

"That's right."

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He just came in to talk; see how I was doing. He said he's cool."

"Anything else?"

Jared scowled. "What's this about? What's going on, Mike?"

"Did Will say anything else?"

Jared hesitated. "He kissed me."

Mike canted his head and a puzzled look twisted his face. "He kissed you?"

"Right on the mouth. No tongue or anything, but it was weird."

"He kissed you. And then what?"

"Then he left. A minute later I'm fucking twinkle toes and you all walk in. You sure you didn't see him in the hall?"

Mike swallowed and stared down at his hands. He looked at Jared. There was something in his eyes that was unsettling.

"Jared, you didn't see Will in here."

"Sure I did. I know I'm on something but I'm not that doped up."

Mike shook his head. "You couldn't have seen him. Will's dead."

"And I’m not supposed to move my feet but I did. I told you he was just in here." Jared clenched his fist. Mike wrapped his hand around it.

"He died that same night. He never made it to the hospital. We buried him a couple days later, full honors and everything. We wanted to wait for you to wake up from the coma, but here we are three months later. I thought we were going to lose you too."

Jared wiped his eyes. He stared at the bright lights above his bed until they hurt his eyes. He turned back to Mike and could make out his block-shaped head behind the dancing blue and green spots.

"I'm sorry, Jared. I know how you and he were close."

"He was here. I swear it."

"A dream maybe. A hallucination."

"He kissed me. He fucking kissed me."

Mike stood up. He patted Jared on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, brother. I'll talk to the doc about hooking you up with something to help."

The detective parted the curtain and looked back at Jared.

"See you around," he said and left.

Jared stared up at the lights.

 

- John is an American ex-pat who spends his days writing and drinking in a fishing village in Southern Spain.

 

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