Chapter 4 Jeremiah
Jeremiah
Man of Steel
Jeremiah
Stand Alone
You’re needed here
Don’t go, don’t go
Jeremiah
Come home, come home
It was on a cold, quiet morning, two weeks after his death, that Jeremiah found the beginning of his undoing. A small battered boat danced lightly across the water before him, waiting to carry him to his escape, his freedom. He watched it bobbing up and down with a pensive look. He had been planning for this for weeks now. He had been sure. Taking off his hat and rubbing his head he allowed himself a glance back.
And he suddenly realized that no mater how far he went there would still be guilt and longing and memories. It was just the small matter of getting caught that might be problematic. In a matter of seconds the fallen soldier would become a lying coward. He didn’t want that. But then again, getting caught wasn’t too likely, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have enough people to look for these days without looking for the dead.
With a sudden movement, almost identical to the one that had started this whole affair he dropped to his knees. The soil beneath him smelled of home. He didn’t want to leave here, and he wasn’t going to. He was going to visit her and tell her, explain to her, just talk for the first time since forever. Jeremiah was not going to leave England again.
He picked up two handfuls of earth and let himself breathe them in, sealing his decision. He threw them up in the air and looked up from the ground only to be met with two large black eyes.
He jumped to his feet and eyed the boy curiously. It was obvious that he’d been watching him, he had probably seen his pictures on TV after the explosion. But Jeremiah had seen that face too. A whole town had been killed that evening just three days ago and this was the prime suspect.
“Take her back,” the boy spoke in a level tone, “To a hospital, she’s dying.”
Jeremiah looked down and noticed, for the first time, that the boy was carrying an unconscious girl in his arms. His first thought was that she must be one of the victims, that he must have had a moment of guilt, but no. No one else had come out of that town alive that night.
“Why don’t you do it?” Jeremiah said suspiciously, but he already knew he had no choice but to carry the responsibility, “It’s not like I can just stroll in-”
“What do you think?” the boy answered, “There isn’t a single person in the country who wouldn’t love to turn me in, but no one will see you, because no one looks for dead people.”
Jeremiah stretched his arms out, feeling the urgency in the boy’s voice and received the unconscious girl into his arms. He gave the boy a small nod and began walking in a hurried pace.
“What makes you think I won’t turn you in?” he asked the boy who was still lingering behind him.
“You can’t,” was the simple answer.
It was a long walk before Jeremiah found himself a taxi and was able to relax and make more speed to the hospital. The girl was still alive, but she wasn’t in good shape. Scratches and bruises covered her body and she had large bags under her eyes. That was aside from being unconscious.
He let his gaze wander out the window and his mind took him back to that day. The day Jeremiah realized, for the first time, that he was not made to be a soldier. He wasn’t made of strong enough stuff to stand in a battlefield and fight. His brain had been too slow to pull him back, to hold him firmly in place and –
“Aaaaaaaaah, Dad no, please no!”
He looked down at the girl’s still-closed eyes and her flailing arms. Even in her state of unconsciousness, she couldn’t rest from nightmares and fears. Her face was tightened into an expression of despair.
The driver began to speed up and soon he was zooming like a madman through the streets. It was very dangerous of course, but the seemingly weary old man was very, very skilled at dodging the little traffic that there was and Jeremiah wasn’t about to complain. He didn’t want the responsibility of a dying girl in his arms, and the sooner they got to a Hospital the better.
“Almost there,” the driver said.
Jeremiah allowed himself to breathe a little more deeply and enjoy the speedy ride, it almost reminded him of those days when he had been so…young. Thankfully, they arrived without any more outbursts from the girl and before Jeremiah had time to contemplate his age.
As he handed the man the bills with a nod and a smile he felt that his fate was now out of his hands. He was still in England and he was walking right into a hospital in broad daylight.
He followed the men with the stretchers and realized that this kind of activity wasn’t normal even for an emergency ward. And all the patients coming in seemed to be grievously hurt. He shook his head and walked faster through the doors. There was chaos inside. A young man in uniform, who was attempting to maintain some kind of order, noticed his uncertain expression and walked over to him.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong with her, sir?” he asked in a quick, but polite manner.
“Found her unconscious,” Jeremiah replied, “Dehydrated I would guess, and starved, she’s also very scratched up.”
“Right this way!” the man began to lead before Jeremiah had time to worry about how inadequate his description might be. They walked quickly through halls full of waiting patients before the man stopped to talk to a bewildered looking young nurse.
“Tom finished with that surgery yet?” he asked.
“Yes, and I need you to take care of the minor injuries for me once you finish telling Mary to stop wasting time and let Malaika get back to her own ward. Dr. Tom will be with Tracy’s patient in a moment.”
There was a silent pause and the young man’s face seemed to harden.
“They need you,” the woman’s voice softened, “And the only other choices are to let them bleed or let the dozen patients in the surgery rooms die.”
The man nodded quickly and sprung back into action leading Jeremiah and his burden to the end of the hallway. It was much calmer and rather quiet in the room they stepped into. The young man motioned to the only empty bed and whispered that someone would be with them in a minute. Jeremiah walked down the long isle and set the girl down on the bed as gently as he could manage.
He straightened up, quite ready to leave while he was still unrecognized, only to be met with the most angelic pair of eyes he had ever seen in his life. And it was then that he realized, for the first time, that it wasn’t his fault he was a coward; some people were just too bleeding gorgeous to kill.
