Chapter Nineteen
Sunday, 9:17 PM
An ICU nurse was seated next to Lucky, checking his IV and monitors. Lucky was sedated and had been unconscious since his arrival in the ER that morning. His cardiac monitor beeped regularly, and the ventilator hissed oxygen into his lungs. His IV dripped life-giving fluids, antibiotics and glucose into his veins.
Lucky started to come out of his sedation, and his eyelids gently fluttered twice. The nurse didn't notice as she was recording the readings on Lucky's chart.
~*~*~*~
Sounds and light swirled around him as he floated on top of a puffy cloud in a balmy breeze. The sounds started to bother him, though, as they intruded on his peaceful rest. BEEP, HSSSSS, BEEP BEEP. He felt himself sinking, going under rapidly, falling to earth, and all he could do was passively wait for the impact.
When he hit the earth, all of the breath was knocked out of him, and he couldn't seem to draw any more air into his lungs. He pulled, and gasped and wheezed to no avail. He started to panic and tried to reach out to grab for his needs. He just kept sinking down, down, down into the earth as it sucked and pulled him into its arms. Dirt began to fall on him in a steady rain until it trapped his body and showered onto his face. The dirt filled his mouth, and every attempt to breathe resulted in more dirt being pulled into his lungs. He was dying, he was suffocating, and no one knew.
The nurse quickly noted that the cardiac monitor's gentle rhythm was changing. The beats were becoming faster and more erratic. Sweat formed on Lucky's forehead and his body began jerking. The nurse ran quickly from the room to find Dr. Thornhart.
Lucky lay there dying with no one to help him. Flashes of his family and friends raced through his mind. He would have formed tears if only he weren't so imprisoned by his tomb of musty earth. Lucky desperately cried out for help in his mind as his eyelids wildly fluttered.
Lucky's eyes were finally completely open. He stared up at a totally white ceiling in an antiseptic room. Disoriented, a river of fear raced through him as he wondered if Faison had kidnapped him again. Tears rolled down his face. His eyes darted to the left as a golden light approached nearer and nearer his doorway. At first, he was afraid and uncertain of what was coming. The light entered his room and moved toward his bedside. The light was so intensely bright that he could barely make out the figure of a man. The man bent down toward Lucky and placed his hand on his chest. "Peace," he said in a resonating, authoritative voice. Lucky's chest filled with golden warmth and love, and he immediately relaxed. He looked up at the man's bronze hand and long, dark hair. Do I know you? he thought. "I know you," the man answered as he turned from Lucky and looked back over his shoulder. The man winked at Lucky before his trail of light followed him through the doorway.
~*~*~*~
Ian Thornhart quickly walked up to Lucky Spencer's bedside. Lucky's eyes were open, and tears were drying on his cheeks, but he was completely calm. Ian quickly examined Lucky and pulled up a seat beside him. "Lucky," he said. "You're in General Hospital. You have pneumonia, and we had to put you on a ventilator so that you could breathe properly. I know it's difficult to have the tube in your throat. Do you want to try to breathe on your own without the ventilator?" Lucky blinked his assent. "Okay, we'll start weaning you from the machine now. Here is your call button." Ian moved Lucky's hand over the cord "Press the button if you experience discomfort or panic. How's that?" Lucky blinked again. Ian patted Lucky's shoulder. "You're doing fine, son. We'll take care of you." Ian ordered another sedative for Lucky.
~*~*~*~
Marcus Taggert paced in his apartment,
holding a tennis ball, and he alternately bounced it off of a wall and squeezed it in his
hand. The Lucky Spencer that he knew would never try to kill himself. He was too full of
life. Taggert smiled wryly and chuckled. Yeah, he was always full of it.
*** "Lucky, what are you doing on these docks at 10:00 at night?" Taggert asked a suspicious, lurking 14-year-old Lucky Spencer.
Lucky tossed his chin-length hair and glared defiantly at Taggert. "I have business," he stated imperially.
I don't need this brat, thought Taggert. "What kind of business is here for a kid?" questioned Taggert as he caught one of Corninthos' men strolling by, eyeing the two. "You need to stay away from that mob lowlife," he stated grimly, looking Lucky squarely in the eye and patting his gun holster for effect.
"It's a free country, man," Lucky protested with a hand in his pocket and an angry scuff of his shoe on the wooden dock. He concentrated on kicking at some invisible nuisance.
"Yes, and this free country has laws for the common good," reminded Taggert. "One of the laws is an 11:00 curfew for anyone under the age of eighteen, Lucky. I assume that you're on your way home?"
"It takes me fifteen minutes to get home from here," Lucky said smartly, sweeping his eyes over Taggert and dismissing him with a shrug and a roll of his eyes. "I'll be leaving in forty-five."
Taggert wanted to grab Lucky by his
tee-shirt and give him a good shaking to shock some sense into him. Where did those
Spencers get such attitudes anyway? Must be genetic, he thought. Lucky shook his head
again, and light flashed from his single gold earring. Or maybe not, Taggert reconsidered.
***
Taggert bounced and cupped the tennis ball over and over. Lucky never took drugs - what's up with that? And what about that gun? Maybe he is his father's son, Taggert frowned, remembering the pile of evidence stacked against Luke, implicating him in the murder of another human being.
~*~*~*~
Bobbie walked into her brownstone
apartment, placed her purse on the kitchen countertop and began preparing the teakettle,
filling it up with water and placing it onto the stove burner. She reached into a kitchen
cabinet and selected an herbal tea. She drew in a deep breath, leaned against the counter
and sniffed with tears.
She took in a deep breath and brushed away a rolling tear. It seemed like all of the men in her family were cursed. She had tried long and hard to run away from the booze, fights, and abuse that made up the toxic mix of the Spencer clan. She had dusted herself off and developed a respectable career. Luke seemed to break away from it occasionally but was periodically drawn down by booze, violence or vendettas. She had thought that Lucky might escape the legacy. He was bright and sensitive, but his life had been torn apart so much in recent years by betrayal, divorce, and abandonment and in earlier years by his uncertain, hit-or-miss upbringing.
Bobbie never realized until that moment how devastated she was by Luke's imprisonment. She'd always relied on his powerful presence to get her out of scrapes or to draw from his strength. Now, we'll have to reacquaint ourselves in the old folk's home after his release from prison, she thought. Luke chose to isolate himself in prison, and her visits and letters went unnoticed.
The copper kettle whistled, and Bobbie poured the hot water over a teabag of Mint Medley tea. She walked with her teacup into the living room and sat down on the couch. She removed her shoes, placed her feet up on the coffee table and sat her tea down on a coaster. Bobbie leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.
Roy quietly entered the brownstone apartment and walked over to Bobbie. He bent over the couch and gently wrapped his hands over her shoulders, kissing her on the top of her head. Bobbie opened her eyes and smiled. "Hi, handsome," she grinned. Roy came around to the front of the couch and sat beside her. Bobbie took his hand and looked him in the eyes. "Roy, I have some bad news," she said solemnly. "My nephew, Lucky, has been hospitalized. He's in ICU for pneumonia. And, Roy, they think he tried to kill himself." Bobbie's tears began flowing, and Roy quickly rose from the couch with an angry look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and placed it on his hip.
"Bobbie, that kid is bad news, and I think you should stay away from him."
Bobbie looked over at Roy in surprise. "And just how do you know that he is bad news, Roy?"