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Outward, the Circles Grow. [1]

 
Hyle Troy's picture
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Dwight Frye took one final peek over the truncated edge of the bridge then turned away. Walking calmly back to his car he removed his blue serge overall, folded it neatly and placed it in the boot on top of the remnants of the roll of Duct Tape.

 

It had been just over a week since he got the call from Inspector Crabbe. Eleven days since Hanne had been shot.

 

Finding Mick Fischer had only taken a few hours. It was not difficult. Dwight had a lot more information on certain elements of low-life than Crabbe’s useless minions. He got to Fischer a lot quicker than Officer Kopkage. Finding him was one thing, getting the opportunity to make him ‘disappear’ had meant Dwight had been forced to wait until well after midnight until Fischer had drank himself into another state of stupor. After that it was simple, a short scuffle in an alley finished smartly by a neat tap on the head, just enough to make Fischer compliant. That’s all it took.

 

Dwight felt hurt. In the succeeding days that he kept Fischer in the cellar of The Ranyhyn Building. His mind swung violently from hatred to sadness, from sadism to deep anguish.

In the periods between Dwight visiting painful retribution. When Fischer had lost consciousness. Dwight sat back in the chair thinking of his wonderful Miss Berg, now comatose in Hope Springs Clinic. He felt a little bit of remorse about laying the initial blame on the Henningsdottir girl. Dwight knew that the girl was incapable of shooting Miss Berg but she was a convenient ‘patsy’ to divert the Police while he himself made his own enquiries.

Henningsdottir was just a former chancer who had seen the light, thanks to Spivey, and had found herself a decent job.

 

Dwight sat back in the padded office chair that Miss Berg usually sat in when she supervised interviews in the cellar. He sipped Vodka to quell the surges of guilt as he remembered how he found Miss Berg lying in a pool of blood outside the office. He initially thought her dead but the emergency medics had found traces of life, he himself had organised the transfer of Miss Berg to Hope Springs. He knew of Doctor Troy and her expertise in trauma care. He knew that was the only place for Miss Berg to have a chance of survival. He owed Miss Berg everything, She was his guidance for life. His star.

Dwight fought back tears of despair and let the despair turn again to rage as Fischer moaned his way back into consciousness. Another round. A few days more. When Dwight had purged his guilt on the hapless Fischer, he would take him to the bridge. But not yet.

 

Dwight closed the trunk lid. The next stop would be Hope Springs and the clinic. Since the four days he had been keeping Fischer he had not checked on Miss Berg’s progress.

 

He coasted the car gently to halt in the parking bay at The Clinic. He paused for a moment to check the creases in his mid- blue trousers were straight and pulled on the matching, equally well-pressed jacket before going inside.

He sat cross legged, hands on his lap in the waiting area for some time, but Dwight was calm and patient. He had expended all his rage over the last few days and now felt an inner calm. Justice had been dispensed and now he could concentrate on whatever Miss Berg would require. To the passing onlooker he was purely a well dressed chap sitting quietly for his turn to be attended to.

 

Mr. Frye?”

The young Doctor Troy approached Dwight. The bright eyes smiled their greeting from under a mop of blonde hair. She cast a diminutive figure in the blue surgical scrubs, she could not have been much more than a teenager. Dwight smiled back and took her offered hand gently and shook it. He wondered how one so young had managed to acquire such skills or such a reputation so soon.

Doctor Troy.” Dwight smiled back politely.

Come into this room and I’ll give you the latest on Hanne.”

Dwight followed Dr. Troy into a small room, feeling happier. He could tell from the Doctor’s demeanour she had some good news at least.

Dr. Troy leant her behind on the edge of the desk and scanned the clipboard she held for a few moments before speaking.

Hanne is awake!” She announced and then left a few moments silence to let the news sink in before continuing. Dwight’s spirit immediately soared but he could tell from the pause that there was a but. He smiled widely. And then waited.

But.” Dr. Troy’s experience let her read Dwight’s thoughts. She went on. “What you have to remember is that, despite the fact the bullet did not enter the skull. The shock-wave still causes a fair amount of trauma to the brain.” Dr. Troy paused. Dwight nodded.

Please, go on.”

The medic nodded.

OK. So. We kept Hanne in coma for a few days longer. To give her brain a chance to heal itself but two days ago I reasoned that the intracranial pressure was not releasing, perhaps increasing. So I decided to perform a trepanning.” She paused again, just to ensure Dwight was understanding. She saw the question cross his face.

It’s where we drill a little hole through the skull to relieve the pressure, then pop the little chunk of bone back in after. Quite simple, but in this case, very effective.” Dr. Troy finished with a supportive smile.

And.. ?”

The fresh face took on a serious look “She should be fine. Probably outlive us all.”

I sense another ‘but’. Doctor Troy.”

Troy nodded guardedly “As for her quality of life. Only time will tell. The brain does some wonderful things. Self healing. It just takes time.”

 

Doctor Troy scanned Dwight’s face, weighing up his reaction. She had seen this many times before. Not only were the patients on the ward to be cared for, so were friends and relatives. It was always prudent to edge slowly ahead with bad news.

Would you like to see her?” Dr. Troy gave another comforting smile.

 

Dwight took a long slow breath “Yes, I would. Please” 



Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((I won't feel sorry for dwight Frye. *Sniff* I just won't.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

( Yes, I know how you feel. I am in two minds about him, but then again, so is he !

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers



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