Chuck Sampson - Moratorium : Oil and Murder Do Mix

Moratorium

Oil and Murder Do Mix

A Cyrus Fleming Mystery Novel

www.bibliotastic.com

Copyright 2010 Chuck Sampson

License Notes

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Information about upcoming books by Chuck Sampson can be found here: www.chuckdsampson.com

This book is dedicated to all the hard-working men and women who do the difficult and dangerous work of bringing power to the people. To all the roustabouts, roughnecks, driller men, tool men, mud-loggers, and petroleum engineers, thank you all for doing the thankless, dirty, and dangerous job that we all need you to do in order to live the good life.

And a big thank you to my wife, Jackie, my son, Ryan, and my two darling daughters, Lauren and Samantha.

The last thing Dana Mathers remembered before he lost consciousness was placing his left foot too far back on his surfboard and slipping off backwards- something only a gremmie would do. Hed killed that move a thousand times before and always looked steezy. But not this time, this time he barnied his special cut-back way bad. The tide was super low-too low. A sharp pain on the base of his neck came next. For sure he had hit the rocks. White water gushed all around him while he struggled to keep his head up for air. Like in a bad dream, he heard a voice yelling for help and then everything went black.

Now all was light again and through a patchwork of red, blue, and purple flowers, he caught sight of his mother sitting on a couch reading a paperback. A beam of sunlight highlighted the deep lines creasing the corners of her dark-circled eyes.

Hi Mom, he said.

Oh, she replied. Her quivering hands lost their grip and the book she was holding landed on the table, scattering several half-full coffee cups. When she reached the side of his bed, she said, Hello son, are you all right?

Im okay, I guess. Except my head hurts and my mouth is dry. Wheres Dad?

Hes out in the hall waiting for the doctor to return with the results of the X-rays.

He pointed toward the large nylon strap fastened across his forehead. Whats this for? Theyre not afraid Ill try to escape are they?

The medic told me he had a brace put on you so you wouldnt get up or move when you came to-so dont. Ill go get your Dad and bring you back some water. She smiled at him once again before she walked out the door and into the hall.

The second she left he began to think about his condition. He realized he was hurt bad, but how bad was the question. He didnt sense any pain except for the headache. But why all the gear? A precaution probably, everyone sues everybody these days -especially in California.

The sound of his mothers cry cracked the silence of his room. Dana pushed himself up, breaking the nylon restraint.

Mom! Mom! Whats wrong?

He reached over and slapped the red button on the wall beside him. A deafening, dissonant, buzz ensued. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldnt budge. While he was trying to push himself out of the bed, a nurse's aide rushed in and shut off the alarm.

Whats happened to my mother? he said to the big man.

Please stay still, the aide said, The doctor and your parents are on their way. His large hand pressed down on him firmly as he spoke.

Why was she- Dana stopped when a tall man wearing a white coat walked into the room. His parents followed behind. At the sight of his mother, he relaxed and lay back down. The aide released his hold on Dana and hurried out quietly.

The three of them lined up beside his bed. His father wiped tears from his eyes and said, Hello son, I am so glad youre conscious and safe.

I am safe, but not sound, right Dad? He clenched both fists as he spoke.

I better let the doctor explain, he replied as he traded places with the tall, bushy browed, man standing beside him.

The physician leaned over Dana, pulled out a metal instrument and examined his eyes. Youve been unconscious for two days. You severely traumatized the bundle of nerves at the top of the spine which controls the legs, the doctor said.

Dana glowered at him.

The physician smirked at the sight of the nylon neck restraint dangling from the side of the bed. The rest of your motor functions appear to be healthy. I will instruct the orderlies to finish removing the traction, since there are no bone fractures. The doctor straightened up, and almost as an aside he said, I am afraid the legs are permanently paralyzed.

Dana gasped as though he were drowning and covered his face with his hands. When he brought them down again, he cast a frightened expression toward his mother. She collapsed into the arms of his father, sobbing.

The doctor walked away, disappearing into the hall. A moment later he returned, followed by an orderly who led his parents from the room. The doctor returned to his bedside and said, I insisted that your father and mother return home.

Why?

Theyve not slept more than two hours the last two days waiting for you regain consciousness. I dont want to have to admit them as patients.

Oh, he said.

Theyll be back soon. In the meantime well do everything we can to help you. Do you have any questions?

Dana lay motionless and turned his gaze toward the dark-grey, colorless, ceiling above him.

After several moments of silence the doctor said, Did you understand me?

Yeah, I understood you.

I couldnt tell; youre not looking at me. Why?

I hate them.

Them?

The flowers, theyre annoying, like you.

The doctor shook his head. Things could be worse.

No they couldnt.

Your brains mental and cognitive capacity appears to be undamaged and you are alive, at least.

Go away, please.

Youll need time to adjust to your condition.

Ill never get used to being like this.

Once you are strong enough to start therapy, the depression youre experiencing now will subside.

Yeah, Ill be the life of the party, but I dont feel so jolly at the moment, so could you leave?

The cha-cha ringtone coming from the doctors cell phone distracted him. He put the device next to his ear. Im on my way now, he said and darted out of the room.

Moments later, two hospital aides dismantled the traction that had been supporting Danas spine and neck. After the orderlies finished and left, his nurse appeared carrying a tray filled with clattering bottles. The smell of her perfume, cutting through the ubiquitous stench of sweat mixed with isopropyl alcohol, nauseated him. He shuddered when he felt her cold hand on his shoulder.

Sorry, she said, as pushed the needle into his skin. This is for the headache and I brought you some water as well.

Her words sounded like a far-off echo. He stared into the grey ceiling, trying to make the voice in his head quiet down. It kept telling him over and over what an idiot he was and how he shouldnt have been showing off and what a fool he was to be surfing at the Point when the tide was low. On and on the voices went again and again. Like snakes, they slithered into and out of his consciousness, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldnt make them go away.

Ill check on you later this evening, the nurse said as she placed a bottle of water on the table next to him. He gritted his teeth at the sound of the clinking bottles on the nurses metal tray, ringing like little sleigh bells as she left the room. He spent the rest of the afternoon motionless, his gaze fixed on the colorless top above him.