An Unsolved Case

      – Hey! Hold on, motherfucker, don’t pass out! Look at me! The ambulance is almost there.       Jim shakes him gently, bringing him to his senses; Freddy opened his eyes, already faintly understanding what was happening around him. The metronome of heartbeats — Newendyke counted them. The wheezing from the wound in his chest was merged into one sound with the howling of sirens, which echoed hollowly to Freddy’s consciousness.       – Look, there’s a car over there. There’s a car, look at it! You will be taken to the hospital and treated there. — Jim is reassuring, even though he seems scared to death himself. — You just hold on. Don’t even think about dying, do you understand me? Come on, hurry up! — Holdaway yells at the paramedics as they rush into the warehouse. — Gunshots, in the chest and the belly.       The pain is like being stabbed and a groan against his will when several people on command simultaneously lift Freddy off the floor and put him on a gurney. The sudden bright light, the suffocating air of the warehouse is momentarily replaced by the street and immediately back into the stuffiness, as soon as the stretcher is inside the ambulance. Oxygen mask — breathing is a little easier, but the taste of blood has not disappeared anywhere. Yes, blood is coming out of his mouth — the thought flashes through Freddy 's mind that he will not make it to the hospital.       Paramedics cut the jacket and shirt and insert a needle into a vein.       – Blood pressure is fifty, pulse is one hundred forty.       The voices sound like coming from a well, discuss his vital signs. His blood pressure, his pulse — Freddy can’t feel them anymore, everything’s leaked out, left on the warehouse floor.       Everything blurs in Freddy’s eyes, darkness covers, and episodes of consciousness flash by in painful moments. A rattling ambulance gurney. Flash — the hallway of the emergency room. Flash — squares of fluorescent lights on the ceiling hurt the eyes. Flash — he’s being taken somewhere very quickly. Flash — voices, but Freddy can’t make out the words. Flash — the nurse grazed his skin with surgical scissors while cutting the fabric of his clothes. Flash — a huge, moon-shaped lamp turns on overhead. Flash — someone’s palm presses the mask tightly to Freddy’s face, putting him under anesthesia.

___

      Flash.       The light blinded him, and his eyes watered. Freddy blinked, but he didn’t fall into the void anymore — he came to his senses completely.       The veil in front of his eyes gradually dissipated, took on contours, and silhouettes of objects emerged from its murk. The bright sun outside the window, the white walls, the monitor and the rhythmic beeping of the pulse on the screen. The monotonous noise of oxygen through the cannula connected to the nose knocked out thoughts. The head refused to think properly. Even when Newendyke realized he was in the hospital.       The leaden muscles did not obey — the body was loaded with medicines. Some drains, droppers in an absolutely incredible amount. The blood pack is hanging on a tripod, and thick red drops are slowly entering the vein, because Freddy left too much of his own blood on the warehouse floor.       The warehouse.       In a second, the barrier was blown away, and a stream of memories of the last days poured into his head like glass fragments. It took Freddy a while to get ready and put everything in one pile.       He is lying on his back, wheezing and gurgling in his chest, and there is already a metallic taste in his mouth. It’s hard to breathe. It hurts a lot.       Dimick lifts Freddy off the floor and puts his head on himself hip. He runs his hand over Freddy’s face in an encouraging gesture, although Dimick is seriously injured and barely holding on. A dangerous criminal, a robber, a murderer — Mr. White stood between Joe’s gun and Freddy 's body as the only obstacle, although he could not help but understand how it would end.       – I’m sorry, kid. Looks like we’re gonna… do… do a little time.       It’s all too much for Freddy. For so long, lying to a man with whom he had found understanding — damn it, he had almost become friends! So many lies…       – I’m a cop. — Freddy doesn’t see Dimick’s face, but he feels him freeze, tense up. — Larry, I’m sorry. Sorry… I’m a cop.       And Larry is almost screaming in despair.       Freddy feels the pain being replaced by burning shame. And then — animal horror, when the gun rests against his face. Pokes in the teeth, putting an end to this short-lived partnership.       – I’m sorry, Larry, I’m sorry!       Shot — Freddy is ready to feel what it’s like to have a bullet fly through his brain. But he didn’t feel it — Larry shot to the side. Unlike the policemen who burst into the warehouse, who start shooting like jerks, risking killing not only the criminal, but also the undercover cop…       – Mr. Newendyke? Can you hear me?       Freddy opened his eyes a little, struggling to get out of his memories. Is there a woman in a medical uniform standing by the bed — a nurse? No, she looks like a doctor. Anyway, Freddy doesn’t give a damn about the details right now.       – Detective? Can you say something? — The woman does not bother — she is trying to understand what condition her patient is in, how clear his consciousness is.       – I hear. — Freddy replied softly, making an effort to open his dry lips with difficulty. — How long have I been here?       – Since yesterday, you were brought in an ambulance, — the woman answers just as quietly. –About two o’clock.       – Just me?       – If it’s about someone you’ve worked with, I’m afraid I don’t know anything. — The doctor nodded understandingly. — I can try to find out something, and then I’ll let you know.       – Yes, thank you… — Freddy tried to nod, but he barely had the strength to turn his head. — His name is Lawrence Dimick.       – Lawrence Dimick, I’ll remember. And, Detective, I understand that this is important to you, but try not to think about it yet. You received two gunshot wounds, to the abdomen and chest, lost a lot of blood, and your condition is still considered serious. You have been operated on, the operation was successful, but for a few days it is better if you move less and sleep more.       – I’ll try.       But Freddy wasn’t really sure if he could even move.       – If you need anything, you can contact the staff, there is an panic button on the handrail of your bed. Can I get you anything now? Do you need painkillers?       – It doesn’t hurt me.       The doctor also made some notes in the medical documentation, recorded the readings of the monitors, and then left the room.       Freddy didn’t pay attention. Without looking away, he stared at one point, replaying over and over in his head the events that he remembered last. Thoughts got confused, layered one on top of the other, time lost its meaning. Only the measured beep of the pulse on the monitor, the rhythm counting down the seconds of life.       Larry turned out to be right, and everything really went through the ass. Freddy realized this the moment the alarm went off, and the first bullet took out the glass of the jewelry store, miraculously ain’t hitting Freddy himself.       Bang!       Freddy almost sat down in surprise, tore open the broken door and found himself inside a complete cunt.       Chaos, the cashier is dead, people are screaming and rushing, many are injured. Mr. Pink dropped the bag of diamonds and hid near the showcase, Mr. White was dumbfounded, and even Mr. Blue, who is probably a professional in robberies, muttered in a low voice, “What are you doing, you sick bastard?” while Mr. Blond was smiling and firing more shots. He got into a rage. Bang, bang, bang! Like in a cheap action movie, a bunch of corpses and no sense.       And then the police came out of ambush when they realized that no one would take the diamonds peacefully.       – Let’s go, quickly!       It takes Freddy a moment to realize that he continues to stand with his jaw dropped under a hail of bullets, and Mr. White, shooting back, literally drags him out into the street.       “I didn’t help, I didn’t do anything. God, how many people were hurt?” — The thought knocks at his temples like a hammer as Mr. White leads Freddy across the street and pushes him into the car.       – What… what happened? I heard gunshots… Where did the police come from?       – Drive faster! — Dimick barks at the confused Mr. Brown.       But they can’t leave quickly: the cops run out into the street, a shot is fired towards the car, the bullet ricochets and flies to Mr. Brown, the forehead. On autopilot, Mr. Brown presses on the gas pedal and even drives away for a considerable distance. But then he finally loses control and crashes his bumper into someone’s trunk.       – Jesus! I got blinded, man. I’m fuckin' blind.       Mr. Brown is dying in Freddy’s arms. Dimick shoots the policemen who got caught up in the chase. And Freddy catches a bullet when he and Larry stop a random car, and the chick behind the wheel decides to play cowgirl.       Shot — Freddy doesn’t feel pain, not at the same moment. At the same moment, he only feels a blow, as if he was pushed hard in the belly. Freddy fell to the road, and he fired mechanically.       Shot — the woman leans back, a blood stain spreads across her blouse.       “Get up, come on, get up! Make a fuckin' sound!” — Newendyke prays, but the woman is silent. Freddy’s hand is shaking, awareness is filling like water, overflowing. So, Detective, did you play tough cop?       Freddy killed a person for the first time, and that person is a random woman driving a random car. With this thought in mind, Freddy will die here alone. Abandoned by everyone on the road in an alley next to the corpse of an unknown woman.       But suddenly Larry doesn’t leave. Grabs him under the armpits and lifts him off the ground, opens the back door of the car, pushes the wounded accomplice inside. He throws the corpse on the side of the road and revs up from the spot.       Freddy is desperate, terrified. The shirt gets wet rapidly in the abdominal area, followed by pain. And it hurts so much that Newendyke, usually patient when he feels bad, is now rolling around in the seat and screaming out loud.       – Fucking shit! Oh, God! So hurts!       – Hey-hey, easy, be patient! — Dimick drives smoothly, although they drive in such a hurry that the car bounces every now and then.       – I’m finished! — Freddy is almost ready to sobs. — I’m going to fucking die here! Don’t leave me. You’re not going to leave me like you left Mr. Brown? You’re not going to leave me, are you?       – Come on, buddy-boy, we agreed! — Dimick tries to laugh, but it comes out too nervous. — I’ll cover for you, then you’ll cover for me — everything is fair!       – Of course, I’ll cover now… — groans Freddy, trying not to get hysterical. — Hey… hey, thanks for getting me out. Thanks… — Newendyke almost called Mr. White by name, miraculously shut up in time. — Fuck, I don’t even know your first name, just those fucking phoney name!       – Larry. — Mr. White says softly. — My name is Larry. And come on, stop it. Everything will be fine, I’ll take care of you. We’ll be there soon. The main thing is to hold on.       – I’m trying… Aah, gotdamn!       A new wave of pain covers when the car swerved sharply to the side, circling the pit. Freddy shrieking, clutches his belly — his hands immediately cover red. The guy takes off his sunglasses to get a better look at the wound, and the sight of a shot through the abdominal wall drives him into a panic.       – Jesus… I’m covered in blood… Larry, I’m bleeding. Damn, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die!!!       – Of course you gonna die. Fucking rats always die.       Freddy does not see Larry’s face, but he hears how his voice has changed. Compassion disappeared, coldness appeared. And hate. Mr. White lets go of Freddy’s hand, pulls out a gun, presses it against the guy’s teeth and pulls the trigger.       Bang!       In a cold sweat, the policeman jumped up to a sitting position, but from sudden weakness he almost fell off the bed to the floor. He barely managed to grab the handrail. It’s the middle of the night outside, the wounds hurt very much, the pulse is off the scale. Panic is like a bucket of water — not in the face, but as if Freddy was floundering in this bucket, drowning and could not get out. There is nothing to breathe, it is dark in the eyes, even the emergency lighting is not visible. His heart was stopping.       – Help!!! — Freddy yelled, cowering on the bed, completely forgetting about any panic button.

***

      Freddy didn’t consider himself too brave. Sometimes he was afraid, sometimes he worried too much. And sometimes he was calm, collected, or managed to turn the situation into a joke. An ordinary person with ordinary reactions to ordinary events. That’s why this phrase sounded so strange to him at night. A panic attack — Freddy was almost thirty years old, and this was the first time this had happened to him.       The medical staff was really scared then, they ran in to the scream in less than a minute. Chaos, fragments of words and phrases. It seems that Freddy was even tied up at that moment, otherwise it was simply impossible to give an injection. Tranquilizers and painkillers. Too much, judging by how limp the body seemed the next morning.       Newendyke’s head was not thinking straight. So much so that he did not even immediately recognize his attending physician who came on the rounds. However, she understands the patient’s condition and does not conduct small talk. Checks the readings of the instruments, examines and asks questions only about the case.       She is examining the wound on Freddy’s belly when she notices blood on the bandage.       – Your stitches are torn. Not much, so it’s not bad. This happens if the patient is restless — a nurse told me about last night. I’ll prescribe you a sedative, it’ll be easier.       – Don’t…       The guy weakly waves off; he already feels like something more like jelly now than a person, but the doctor is categorical:       – Believe me, it is necessary.       Newendyke decided that it was useless to resist. Let the doctor do what she wants with him.       Soon a nurse arrives to do the dressing. She said something encouraging and asked some question, but Freddy did not answer — not out of rudeness, he just did not understand, but was ashamed to ask again. Apparently, the question was not so important, because the nurse does not fixate on the lack of an answer, but simply finishes her work and leaves. She comes back again when she brings breakfast.       – I’m not hungry.       – You should eat. It takes strength to recover. — The nurse tries to appeal to prudence, but Freddy just turned away.       – I’ll leave breakfast on the table if you change your mind. — The nurse gives up and leaves.       In the time of lunch breakfast remained untouched.       – I’ll tell the doctor to give you less sedatives, — the nurse notes carefully when she enters the room again.       Less sedatives, and it would be easier to think — Freddy wanted that for exactly five seconds, until he felt the cold muzzle of a gun against his face with a flashback. An undercover cop who fucked up the cover.       Although, why is that? After all, he had gained trust, and even so closely that a barely familiar person stood up for protection. The partner with whom Freddy arranged for insurance, and whom he then had to abominably frame. Moreover, the capture group did not stand on ceremony, shooting Dimick to kill; Freddy understood that he himself had survived thanks to some incredible luck — whether Larry had the same luck, the guy did not know.       No, Newendyke, you can’t go without sedatives right now, there’s a risk of going completely crazy.