The Arctic Wolf (Part IV)

**Note: Where you see parentheses around phrases and sentences are thoughts inside the characters mind since I can't use italics. Thanks!***1

***Part IV: Hunting for One in Ten***2

The waiting room was eerily quiet. The nurses and hospital personnel went about their business as if there wasn’t a young man sitting alone in the perfectly sanitized and air conditioned waiting room. They didn’t seem to notice that he was covered in his true love’s blood, and his face was etched with inconceivable pain. It just didn’t seem right to him to have to sit calm and demure and pretend his heart wasn’t ripping at the seams. If he had tried to cry, he would’ve choked on the thousands of tears he had wept before. He wanted to scream again. He felt as if his sanity was hanging on by a thread of hope-the hope that he would see her again-the hope that she would be well-the hope that they’d have years to cherish together. 3

The waiting to be told whether he’d ever see her lovely face or hear her musical voice again was excruciating. Waiting had never been Stefan’s specialty. He despised waiting. He’d never had to wait to see if someone was going to live or die before, and he was not sure he could take those long agonizing moments of perfect quiet, sitting in an uncomfortable dull gray upholstered chair. He sat, staring blankly up at a television oddly tuned to the weather channel, where dull dreary people in prim gray suits discussed the forecast for the week. He could care less if it rained or snowed, or if fire poured from the sky, as long as Emily made it out alive. Their monotonous voices droned on from across the room and his head ached miserably. 4

Even the walls seemed to turn their impassive unforgiving pale blue faces at him. Adorned in imitations of famous impressionistic paintings of pretty women in flowing dresses and garden parties, they stared down at him, and he felt like they were getting closer and closer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his leather wallet, filled with so many random cards and pieces of paper, some cash and credit cards, and the miniature photo album that he kept inside. He removed the badge folded over the front of his wallet and stuffed it indifferently into his pocket. (I’m not dealing with them right now.) The photos brought a small smile to the corner of his lips. His parents on their last anniversary smiled up at him with warm bright faces. He flipped through pictures with his fingertips, remembering each photograph distinctly. Christy’s senior picture grinned up at him next to a picture of her when she was eight, riding a bicycle.5

The next picture was a family photograph taken when he was ten. He tried not to wince and thought, (god I was such a little dork!)  He slipped his finger into the plastic cover and pulled another photograph out from behind it.6

The edges were wrinkled, and one corner had been folded over from age. Stefan managed a smile, and tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped at his eye indifferently.  Staring up at him was a picture of himself when he was fourteen and Emily was twelve. Their birthdays were two days apart, the fourth and sixth of June, and that year their families had thrown a huge party, celebrating both at the same time. His dad was in the background, grinning up from the grill, a spatula in hand, and his mom and her mom sat in chairs next to the table that was covered in food. There in the front of the picture, caught in the middle of excited laughter as if they had naught a care in the world, were Stefan and Emily. Emily had her arms wrapped around his middle in a giant hug, and Stefan’s arms were in the air, his cup of orange soda spilling everywhere. Stefan laughed. He remembered that day so well, and the boy in him longed to go back, to be right back on that deck, laughing and playing in the sprinkler with dozens of kids on that hot summer day. 7

He was startled from his reverie by an old, tired janitor waxing the floor down the hall. He slipped the photo behind the other and closed his wallet, shoving it back into his pocket. Digging further, he pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and a lighter and hesitated before standing up and walking over to the doors. It was cold outside, and he didn’t have his blazer, but he hardly felt the biting wind. Other people walked around wrapped in scarves and coats, and he stood against the brick wall and lit his cigarette. Taking a long drag, all he could think about was how he would change things between Emily and himself.8

(I’ve got to make things right. How long do I have to wait? I can’t take this, I swear, I can’t.) He took another long drag and watched people as they walked by. He glanced at his watch. He’d been in that waiting room for four hours, sitting, waiting, alone and stressed to the brink of an emotional breakdown. He smoked three cigarettes in quick succession, hardly noticing when a cold and merciless rain began to pour from the sky. (Just like my tears), he thought.9

Even under the shelter of the gutter, the wind sent the rain pelting down upon his front, drenching his face and hair. He blinked. He turned away from the rain into the wall and lit another cigarette. An hour and then two hours passed, and he hardly noticed. His body was comfortably numb, until a nurse that had been observing him from inside poked her head out of the door and spoke to him. 10

“Excuse me sir, are you alright?” He turned and stared at her, dragging the cigarette down to the filter and flicking it away into a puddle. “Hmm?”11

“I asked if you were alright, sir. It’s so cold outside, and you’re soaked to the bone. Why don’t you come inside where it is warm and dry?" The elderly nurse looked genuinely concerned for his welfare, so he nodded and shoved his cigarettes and lighter in his pocket before stepping inside the door. 12

Water dripped down from him, forming a large puddle on the tiled floor. It seemed almost a shame to him, to mess up something so immaculate, but he shrugged and stepped to the side. The woman disappeared for a moment behind the corner, and returned moments later holding out a warm woolen blanket. 13

“Here. Wrap yourself in this and you’ll warm up. Don’t you have a coat?”14

“No, I’m sorry, I…” His head drooped slightly and he looked up at her and failed to hide the tears welling up in his eyes again. “I…I lost it.” 15

“Oh dear, well then come inside and have a seat. A minute longer out there and you just might catch your death!”16

He almost snickered at the thought. (Death. Wouldn’t that be a lovely comfort right about now?) Instead, he gathered the woolen blanket about his shoulders and sat down in another chair. He shivered and glanced up at the clock he hadn’t noticed before, hanging on an odd wall next to the nurse’s desk near the entrance. (Six hours! What’s happening in there? Is she alive? Will she make it? Oh Emily, please be all right!) His mind raced with a thousand thoughts all at once. 17

(Time passes…)18

The nurse tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, can I get you anything?” Stefan nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d fallen asleep! (How could I have fallen asleep when she’s still in there?) He wanted to kick himself. 19

“Sir?” The elderly nurse was there again, standing beside him, with a tired look in her old twinkling eyes.20

He smiled at her. “How long have I been asleep?” He wiped at his eyes, stretched and shuddered. (Damn, I’m freezing), he thought.21

“Over an hour, sir. We have coffee. Would you like some?” She gestured over to a table he hadn’t seen before, laden with everything anyone would need for making a cup of coffee. 22

“Oh, yes, ma’am, that would be great. Thank you.” He stood up and stretched his tired and limbs, trying to make them function. Every muscle in his body screamed at him. (God, I’m so tired.) He deposited the blanket on the chair and stiffly made his way over to the table to make himself a cup of coffee. 23

Suddenly it struck him that this entire time, he’d been alone in the waiting room, never joined by anyone else, tortured by a loved one’s misfortune. He sighed. (At least no one else has to go through this, he mused.) A mother pushed what appeared to be an eight year-old child down the corridor in a wheelchair. The little girl squeezed a teddy bear tight, her left leg propped up in a cast. (They must have come in while I was asleep), he thought. (Poor thing.) He smiled at the girl and the mother cast a silent ‘Thanks’ his way. 24

Stefan stirred a teaspoonful of sugar in his coffee and then took a sip, savoring the way it poured, hot and steaming down his throat and hit his stomach. Stefan yawned and sat back in his chair, staring up at the television. He ran his hands through his damp hair and sighed. (More waiting. How much longer?)25

He heard a door open down the hall, and footsteps everywhere, but he didn’t bother to look up, and continued to sip his coffee. He could hear nurses talking, and a telephone rang. The television droned on and on and in his peripheral vision, he spied a janitor pushing a cart with a mop, bucket, and trash bags. He sighed and listened to all of the tedious sounds around him, still sipping on his coffee. He couldn’t taste it, but at least it was hot and it would wake him up a little. The sound of feet approached from down the hall, but he didn’t look up, remaining bent over with his elbows on his knees and the cup of coffee held in his hands. 26

“Excuse me sir?” Stefan had expected it to be the voice of the elderly woman again, but was alarmed by the sound of a deep male voice. He looked over his shoulder to see a doctor in scrubs, and a nurse beside him holding a clipboard and pen. 27

Stefan stood up suddenly, nearly spilling the coffee all over himself, cursing lightly under his breath, and sat the cup down on the floor next to his chair.28

“Yes?” He implored, searching the doctor’s face, hoping he could find the answers to his questions.29

“Are you the young man that came on an ambulance with a Miss Emily McNeil?”30

“Yes…Yes, I am.” Stefan could hardly find his voice; it seemed ages to him since he had spoken to anyone.31

“Her fiancé, am I correct?” The doctor held out his hand.32

Stefan took his hand and shook it as warmly as he could. “Yes, I am…I am her fiancé, Stefan…Stefan Wolfgang.”33

“Mr. Wolfgang, please have a seat.” (Oh god, this is it.) Stefan thought. He was certain he might die right there on his feet from anxiety.34

The young nurse stepped forward and handed him the clipboard and pen, and he held his breath. His heart thudded ominously and it scared him to death. (Oh please, god, don’t let her be dead! Don’t let it be true!)35

“About Miss McNeil, Mr. Wolfgang…” Stefan sat down and ran his hands through his black hair. (This is it. Just tell me! Is she dead? Is she alive?) 36

Stefan hardly heard anything the doctor was telling him about the surgery and Emily’s wounds. (I know about the bullet and the blood, just tell me what I want to know, damn it!) He felt like he’d scream if the doctor kept rambling on and on for much longer. Stefan held his breath.37

“The surgery was as successful as can be expected, Mr. Wolfgang. Miss McNeil is alive, however, we are afraid all we can hope for is a ten percent chance that she’ll make it through.” Stefan ran those poignant last words through his mind, over and over and over. (Ten percent! One in ten chances, she’ll recover? How can it be? Please, no, this isn’t happening! Please tell me this isn’t happening!) He wanted to scream again.38

“Is there anyone else we should call, Mr. Wolfgang? Does she have any family that could be contacted?” (Shit! I had her number all along and I didn't call them! Shit! Damn it, Stefan, what the hell is wrong with you, anyway?)39

“Yes…I have the number…it’s here…somewhere…I think.” Stefan fumbled through his wallet and pulled out a little slip of paper bearing a telephone number in blue faded ink. 40

“Alright, please, fill out this form here and any information you can provide, and we’ll make the call for you. As soon as you complete the form you can visit her. She’s in room number 343A. If you need anything, Delia here will assist you.” He gestured to the elderly nurse that had appeared once again.41

“Thank you doctor.” He took the clipboard and pen and stared down at the paper blankly.42

The doctor and the younger nurse disappeared out of earshot. Stefan couldn’t concentrate. (Bullet missed her heart, that’s good, at least. Punctured lung, loss of blood, bullet lodged in chest cavity. Critical condition, but stabilizing.) Only time would tell. There were so many vivid details he just couldn’t relive again. He knew she’d been in trouble. He’d been bathed in her blood, what other proof was necessary? 43

He filled out the form and pushed it aside, running his hands through his hair once more and sighing. W(ell this is it. One in ten…one in ten…damn it!) He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The old nurse put a caring hand on his shoulder and he looked up, unaware that there were new tears glittering on his cheeks.44

“Go see her, dear, and I’ll take care of this. I really wish you two all the best. I heard you talking on the phone earlier to that police officer-your entire story. It’s hard to believe something like that could happen around here. I’m so sorry for you, and I hope she makes it out okay. Go see her, and I’ll take care of everything.”45

Stefan mused. (When did I talk on the phone with Officer Massey?) He couldn’t remember anything, but since the nurse had overheard it, then that meant he didn’t have to relive those horrible moments over again, relating them to an officer he didn’t even like sitting behind a desk recording details impassively. (Massey is an emotionless bastard. Chief will understand.)  He must have talked while he was sitting in the waiting room. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped through the recent call numbers. There it was, the officer’s number. Stefan shoved his phone back in his pocket and folded up the blanket and handed it to the nurse.46

“Thank you, for your help. I appreciate it.” He tried to smile at her, and she smiled sweetly in return. He picked up the cup and discarded it in the trash across the room and straightened his shirt for no apparent reason. He ran his hands through his hair for what seemed dozenth time, as it was an old habit that he did subconsciously, not even realizing he was doing it or how many times he’d done it before. 47

“343A…” He mumbled aloud to himself, starting down the hallway. (What floor is that on?) He shot a puzzled glance back at Delia. 48

“Third floor, dear. Take the elevator on your left, and the corridor on your right.” She smiled at him, holding the blanket in her arms, and he waved and rounded the corner in a bolt.49

(Minutes Later…)50

Stefan stood outside the door, reading the number over and over. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. (Somebody help me!) He opened the door and stepped inside.51

The uncannily musical cacophony of medical instruments and machines greeted him coldly and he rubbed his eyes before shutting the door quietly behind him. (Not like she’ll hear it), he noted.52

What seemed to him like hundreds of coiling serpents were a mass of tubes and wires connected to a single small bed across the room, and staring into the bed, his heart caught in his throat for what could have been the thousandth time. He couldn’t breathe. (Emily, my dear, Emily.) He knew he was going to cry again, and he didn’t care. She looked so fragile, Her fiery hair tousled about her head like a bright halo, and her skin paper-white against the white cotton sheets and pale blue cover. She looked so frail and fragile to him, and he knew her life was hanging by a thread, but he just didn’t want to believe it. 53

He crossed the room and pulled a soft chair closer to her right side, and leaned against the bed. He didn’t want to wait for her to wake up; he knew he was terrible at waiting. The machine beeped out a rhythm in the back of his mind, proving that she was alive-that her poor little heart still struggled on. It seemed steady enough, and he sighed, relieved. (I have to be strong for her.) He held his face in his hands for a moment and breathed deep, exhaling slowly.54

“Emily, please hold strong. You were always the strong one-the fighter. Fight, baby, fight. Please…” He spoke aloud, wishing that there were some way for her to hear him, even though the rational part of him knew it was impossible. 55

“One in ten, baby. Prove them wrong, I know you can. You were always good at that-proving everyone wrong. If ever there was a time to do it, now’s it. You’ve got to hold strong. You’ve got make it through. You just have to…” He picked up her right hand and held it in his own, pressing his elbows into the bed.56

(Don’t fail me now, and I swear I’ll never fail you.) He pressed her hand to his face and his tears poured down over her fingers, and he kissed them. He glanced at the ring on her left ring finger. (You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again, I swear, Emily. You’ll never be alone again…)57

(End of Part Four)58

to be continued...59