Page 53 of The Surrogate Omega, Part Two

It takes me a while to process. The words “he’s awake” are in complete juxtaposition to the dark eyes and serious demeanor, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

Ev must be having the same train of thought because he asks, “Isn’t that a good thing, doctor?”

The doctor sighs. “Yes, it is. He’s breathing on his own and doesn’t seem to have any cognitive impairments. He’s not speaking, but I believe that’s more trauma related than not being able to. He’s understanding us and responding with nonverbal gestures.”

The lump in my throat begins to ease. Besides the fifteen minutes I held him in my arms while I carried his unconscious body out of that fucking room, I’ve never even seen the kid, but I can’t deny the connection I feel. From the very first minute I was handed the missing persons case last year, I felt a connection to this case and this kid. One I couldn’t explain. It’s only grown in the past few days. It’s more than relief I feel at the doctor’s words.

Though, there’s something else he’s not saying. “I’m sorry, doc, but I’m confused. You’re saying all good things, but I get a feeling that’s not the case?”

The doctor runs his hands through his hair, looking like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I guess he kind of does. “Rory has suffered significant damage and it’s not all physical. Physically, I think he will be ok. His life is no longer in danger. The internal bleeding has been repaired. We removed his spleen during surgery, but he’s recovering well from it. He experienced significant rectum tearing, but it will heal. He has tremendous damage to his left shoulder that will need multiple surgeries, and even with that, he probably will never have full range of motion in that arm and will always have some weakness. He has multiple broken ribs, a crack in his tibia, and a broken femur that will also need surgery. Now that his life is no longer in danger, he has a consultation with an orthopedist today that will set a plan in motion for both his femur and shoulder.”

This poor fucking kid. I’m seeing red as the doctor goes through the list. Burning in a fire was too good for those assholes. But I’m still missing something. “I’m still not understanding. He has a hell of a road in front of him, but he’s young, and he’s clearly a fighter. These all sound like things he’ll eventually get through, right?”

“If he gets the proper treatment and continued physical therapy, yes, he will mostly recover from these injuries.” The doctor sighs again. “The reality of the situation, detective, is most children in his situation will not get the proper treatment they need. He has no family, no one to care for him. We can keep him in the hospital for a while but eventually, he’ll have to go into foster care under a new name to keep him safe. They try to place kids with medical conditions with certain foster parents who are equipped for such things, but you know as well as I do that the system isn’t perfect. They are overworked, understaffed, and have limited funds, and unfortunately, it’s the children that suffer and fall through the cracks.”

Ev takes my hand and squeezes. The only reason I didn’t spend my teenage years in foster care was because of Ev’s dad. Every time I work with them or see a child in the system, I thank my lucky stars for him once again.Idon’t know what to do, but I know I can’t allow that to happen to Rory.

I’m about to open my mouth to make promises I can’t possibly keep when Ev interrupts me, “You also mentioned you believe there’s more than physical damage?”

The doctor nods. “Yes. As I said, he’s not speaking. That’s a typical trauma response, especially in children. I’m not a psychologist, but from my experience, that is probably only the beginning of what this boy will be suffering from. It is highly likely he will be experiencing nightmares, panic attacks, possible disassociation, possible PTSD. We will know more once a child psychologist evaluates him. But this will be an uphill battle.”

Gods. My mind is racing, a thousand different thoughts battling for attention at the same time. But there’s one that’s the most prominent. This kid is alone, only with doctors and nurses. Maybe the cop who failed to find him before his life was destroyed is the last person he wants to see, but it’s got to be better than being totally alone, right?

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my mind. “Will I be able to see him?”

The doctor’s eyes bounce from Ev to me before he nods sharply. “Yes, but only one of you. He’s still exhausted and really needs his rest. And no questions.”

I raise my hands. “I’m not going in there as a cop, doctor. This case is far above my pay grade now. I just think he needs a friend.”

The doctor relaxes and smiles. “Yes, I do believe he does. Come on, I’ll show you to his room. Your partner can either wait here or by his door.”

“Thank you, doctor. I’ll wait outside the room. I won’t go in. I promise.”

The doctor seems satisfied with that and leads us to Rory’s room. “You need to wear a mask,” he tells me as he leads me down the hallway. “You can get one at the nurses’ station across from his room. Don’t take it off while you’re in with him, please. And don’t touch him. He’s stable but still in critical condition and cannot risk infection of any kind.”

“Of course. I’ll keep my distance.”

When we make it to the nurses’ station, they hand me a mask and some latex gloves. I slip them on and follow the doctor to Rory’s room.

I know which one’s Rory’s immediately by the two plain-clothes officers stationed in front of the door for his own safety. There’s a glass panel in the door, and I can see a small figure huddled in the middle of the bed. He looks so alone, so scared, my heart’s breaking before I even make it inside.

I feel Ev’s presence next to me, as usual being my rock. “You got this. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you.”

Ev doesn’t respond, just nods toward the door. Alright, time to step up and be there for this kid who has been through so much and has no one.

I push open the door. The kid doesn’t move or react to me coming in, though his eyes are open. The TV is on, and he’s staring in that general direction, but I have a feeling he’s not actually watching it. When we found him with the others in that room, he had curly dark-brown hair that was matted to his head in chunks. It’s shaved close to his scalp now. He has one of those nasal cannula things in his nose, the wires wrapped around his ears. I don’t see any bandages or wounds, so I’m not sure why they shaved it, unless it was for sanitary reasons. The blanket is pulled up to his chest so I can’t see most of his body, but his arms are exposed. His left arm is in a sling and there’s an IV in his right one. There’s bandages up and down his arm that I know are from burns, and bruises leave a mottled pattern over his arms, neck, and face.

“Hey, Rory,” I say, keeping my tone light. The kid blinks but otherwise doesn’t respond. I notice that the patient board in his room has him listed as John Doe, as well as his medical information. That’s for his own safety, and I know I should probably not call him by his real name. But the boy needs some sense of normalcy. If he eventually needs to change his name, I want it to be something he’s comfortable with, not John Doe.

There’s one of those crappy hospital reclining chairs near Rory’s bed, so I go over there. “Do you mind if I take a seat?” At first, I don’t think he will respond, but then, I catch the slightest nod, so tiny I’d have missed it if I blinked.

“Thanks. It’s been a long few days, and I’m pretty beat.”

The kid blinks again. I’m floundering, trying to figure out how to approach this. The doctor warned me he’s not speaking, so I’m not surprised, but I don’t know if I should just be quiet, keep the conversation light, or talk about what happened.

I decide to just go with my instincts and wing it. It’s worked well for me this far. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is Logan. I was one of the guys who got all of you off the island.”

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