Lev Coleman
Hmmm, Lev. What an interesting name. I try to picture a face to go with the name. An old cowboy comes to mind, weathered face and whipcord body, lean from years of ranching in the Montana winters. Old, worn cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat complete the image. I know it’s a stereotype, but that’s what pops into my head. Laughing softly, I look up as Bob places my beer down in front of me.
“Thanks, Bob, I needed this,” I tell him as I take a long drink. A couple of these, and hopefully I’ll sleep at least an hour or two tonight before the nightmares start.
“Burger will be right out,” he says as he walks to the end of the bar to wait on someone else.
Grabbing my tablet, I check my social feeds. A post pops up with Collin’s smiling face. My breath stalls for a second. It’s one of those “remember this post from years ago” type of things. I’d forgotten these reminders sometimes pop up from the past, or I probably would have stayed offline today. I study his face and the message I’d written. Five years ago, and yet such another life completely. I snapped that picture a few days before at the beach as we walked through the surf. His face beaming, sandy brown hair blowing in its usual messy style, icy blue eyes crinkling...I couldn’t help capturing the look of pure happiness he exuded as he splashed through the waves.
Happy Birthday to my McDreamy. @DrCollinKennedy May this day bring you adventure and surprise. I couldn’t imagine my life without you and cannot wait to celebrate tonight! Love, your McNerdy.
Such a simple message, yet now so complicated in hindsight. The comments below the post are a stark reminder of the events of the day and something I can’t handle, so I quickly close the app.
My burger arrives, and I put down the tablet. Taking a big bite, I moan at the taste. It easily wins the Best Burger Award. It’s freaking delicious. Another surprise for this unassuming little hotel and restaurant.
“How’s everything? Need anything?” Bob asks.
“Delicious. Best burger I’ve had in a long time,” I declare after swallowing my bite.
“Not surprising. Montana’s known for its beef, straight from the cattle ranches nearby.”
“That makes sense. The taste is so fresh and juicy. Would you mind bringing me another beer?” I ask as I scarf down another bite and some fries.
“Sure, just a sec.” He shuffles over to pull another beer for me. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.” He sets down the beer and leaves me to eat.
After inhaling the burger, I slow down to finish my fries and beer. The TV is on and showing the opening day game for the Texas Rangers. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but I’ll watch a few games every once in a while. About thirty minutes later, I glance at my watch. It’s only eight o’clock, but I’ve been up since five this morning, and I’m both physically and mentally exhausted. I signal Bob, thank him for the meal, and pay my tab. Dragging my butt off the stool, I pick up my tablet and say goodnight.
In my room, I change into an old, soft T-shirt with the Stanford School of Medicine logo on it. The shirt is about eight years old but my most comfortable. Soft jersey lounge pants complete my outfit for bed. Going into the bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face. Pulling my hair out of the ponytail holder, I give it a quick brush as well. I leave on the bathroom light on to help chase away the darkness.
Taking my tablet to bed, I try to get in a few chapters before I sleep. When I turn it on, my finger automatically goes back to the app and brings up Collin’s smiling face. Tracing my finger over his features, my eyes burn with tears, but I refuse to cry. I close the tablet and drift off to sleep a few minutes later.
AN ALERT POPS UP ON my phone, “Code Black,” which means there’s terrorist activity in the hospital and all patients and personnel need to evacuate. As others receive the message, people stream towards the stairs and safety. As I turn to back to the stairs myself, I hear a man shout, “Where is Dr. Michaels!? Dr. Kate Michaels! Tell me where she is, or I’m going to fucking kill all of you. But if you tell me where she is, I might let you go.”
I stop as soon as I hear my name. What?! Is this chaos because of me?
Turning around, I head towards the shouting man. As I get closer, I hear him repeat, “Tell me where she is right now, or I will shoot one of you.”
A steady voice in the crowd tries to reason with the gunman. “I’m sure we can find Dr. Michaels. Why don’t you let these people go? I’ll stay with you, and then you and I can check each of the rooms on this floor to find her.”
OMG, that’s Collin. No, no, no.
I move faster towards the crowd. I step up behind the gunman. Collin’s eyes widen, and his hand raises involuntarily, as if to stop me from moving forward.
The gunman, seeing the gesture, panics and shoots Collin.
“Collin!” I cry out.
The gunman whips around at the sound of my voice. The mixture of glee and menace in his voice is terrifying as he orders me in front of him. “Dr. Michaels. We’ve all been waiting for you. Get over here.”
I hold up my hands, slide in front of the gunman, and drop down to check on Collin. It looks like he was shot in the stomach. My heart races as I check on my husband.
“Stand up!” the gunman, who I now realize is David Carson’s dad, screams at me. “Get up right now. You will answer for David’s death! For my son’s death.”
I look up at him, then back down at Collin. Roaring fills my ears as I watch the blood pour out of him. My mind immediately switches to ‘doctor’ mode. I need to stop the bleeding. I tear off my doctor’s coat, ball it up, and push down on Collin’s stomach. My hands check his pulse and reach for his eyes to look at his pupils. I flinch as two more gunshots ring out. Screams erupt as bodies drop behind me.
Mr. Carson screams at me, “I told you to stand up! If you don’t stand up immediately, I will keep shooting. If you care about these ‘innocent people,’ you will stand up immediately.”
If I stand up, Collin will bleed out. If I don’t stand up, another person will be shot, possibly die.
I’m trying to figure out what to do next when I see trembling hands lean over and move my hands off the coat. A shaky voice tells me, “I’ll take over, Dr. Michaels. I won’t let go of Collin. I promise.” Looking up, I see Lindsey, an oncology nurse, nod at me as she places her hands on my coat and puts pressure on Collin’s wound. Silently thanking her, I blink and slowly stand to face Mr. Carson.
“Mr. Carson, please don’t shoot anyone else. We can talk about David’s death...”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
My body slams backwards as the shots hit me. As I lay there, waiting for death, I continue to hear more shots being fired.
IN THE EARLY MORNING hours, I wake with a cry, tears streaming down my face, my breath stalled as I’m locked into the past. My mind frantically tries to escape the images and sounds of gunshots bombarding my brain. My hands reach up and immediately trace the three points on my body to reassure myself I’m not bleeding. An image of Collin’s smiling face from the beach morphs into an image of him lying on the floor of the hospital, bleeding. Unable to breathe.