Keep Breathing

January 24, 2019:

The aftermath of the Big Belly Burger shooting leads Billy to visit an old friend.

New York

Characters

NPCs: Curtis Hoyle

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

*

Luckily his men hadn't got too far ahead of him by the time the would be assassin had been driven off. It isn't hard to break into the center even without a key, luckily for Billy he knows the code for the alarm so at least they don't have to deal with this with insanely loud noise defeaning them and adding to an already horrific situation. "Keep him sitting up, keep him sitting! Prop him up on your knees. Come on." Billy leans down in front of Anderson as he struggles to breathe, a low weezing coming from his chest as it struggles to rise and fall blood frothing from his lips and pouring from his chest. He makes sure that three sides of the wound are taped in the front a piece of plastic acting as a valve before he checks the back for the same. Although the exit wound is much larger. "Come on Anderson, they couldn't put you down in the box. Don't let some asshole do it now."

His men are scattered around him coming down from the massive adrenaline spike and panic over one of their comrades being injured. Some of them pressing bloodied hands to their heads or faces trying to force themselves to be calm while their minds scream at them to take action even though there is so little they can do. Billy looks up from where he is kneeling over Anderson. "O'connor, Cussack watch the door, stay back. Don't know why the hell Mad Dog was there, but we can't have him hitting us here." Chances are he isn't going to be doing anything but running, but at least it gives those two something to do.

*

Soon enough, the group of men would hear someone moving down the steps. Boots fall with a rush, a huff of breath, and a voice across a phone. "Right's right. Thank you. Please hurry." Baritone and calm, a larger man enters the room and eyes the me. The soldiers, his brothers, bloody and in a panic-driven state. Sighing, his nostrils flare. "O'Connor, was it? Why don't you go make some coffee, hmm? We need you boys to settle. That'll help, alright?" Soothing as his voice is, he eyes Billy and the bleeding Anderson. "Jesus," he mutters to himself.

Sleeves up, he strides with purpose toward a sink area and starts washing up. Snatching a kit off the wall, he moves over to Anderson, "Cussack, I need you to get me some chairs down off that wall. See'em? There's some blankets and pillows in the hall closet. I need those, too." Slipping on some gloves, he moves some scissors over the man's shirt, peeling it away from the wounds. Leaning Anderson forward, he studies the exit wound and cleans it off, pressing down gauze and bandages alike. "Hold here, Billy, as hard as you can. I have to let the front breathe for a bit." A pause, "Hey, Anderson. Stay with me, brother, alright? You're going to be ok. An ambulance is on its way." There's a look Billy's way, a silent question of 'what happened?'

*

"You remember Mad Dog from over in the sand box, good soldier. But a little loose, hanger on of the special forces type? Well apparently he thought it was a good idea to shoot up a Big Belly Burger, had a remote gun setup, how the hell did he get his hands on that." Billy appears to be calm given the situation however he is letting his words run "No idea why he was there or what his plan was. Couldn't have been us, we were just out for a few drinks and got hungry. There was no time for that…" He shakes his head "I don't know man, I don't know." He does as Curtis asks knowing that the Corpsman has forgotten more about this than he will ever know.

"Could he have been there for me? He was always jealous of me and Frankie, what we did. Who we were. Never thought it would go this far though." He rubs his hand across his forehead trying to rid it of his sweat. instead just smearing red across his face. "I can't think of why else he would be there. There were a few other people there, maybe even some other ex military. But I don't think they knew him, at least like I did."

*

"Hey, breathe." Curtis reminds Billy, listening, letting him vent without pause or correction. His fingers work at the make-shift hold of plastic resting over the wound. Moving it off and away, he gives a soft press at the man's side, feeling for pressure, size difference, inflation, anything that might aid him in knowing how bad of a wound he was looking at. With any hope, the air would release itself for long enough until he dresses it again and the paramedics arrive.

Once the chairs are there, pillows and blankets, he smiles at the men. "Great job. I need you guys to set up the chairs. Left his legs and prop them up." Cleaning the entry wound now, he sets to putting fresh, clean, and hopefully a better seal over the heaving wound. "Yeah, yeah, I remember that guy. He was discharged I thought. Weird he's gunning for you, though." A pause, "Others were there? Did he call out names? Give a reason? Or just go postal?"

*

"Not sure, think he called out another name. Even looked like he shot for someone else first, but he definitely opened with a bullet. After that? Well you know how it is in the heat of things, wasn't paying too much attention to exactly what he was saying.

*

"Not sure, think he called out another name. Even looked like he shot for someone else first, but he definitely opened with a bullet. After that? Well you know how it is in the heat of things, wasn't paying too much attention to exactly what he was saying." He shakes his head again, a small dribble of blood and sweat running down one side of his normally perfect face, his hair in dissaray from it's normal slicked back look. "Don't even remember how he went out, thought it was dishonourable discharge. Went against orders trying to collect some scalps or something? Trying to prove how hard he was? Sounds like something he would do anyway." Clearly of Billy can't fight or do anything all of that nervous energy runs straight to his mouth. Normally he is calm, but normally he is in control of the situation. This time he is very much not. "How is he looking Curt, he going to make it?"

*

"Yeah." Curtis nods Billy's way, covering up the wound once more after Anderson had been giving a chance to 'breathe'. By now, they could even hear the emergency services showing up. "You'll be alright, ok? Just rest here and we'll get you to a hospital soon." Eyes up, he looks Billy's way, "Keep your hand on him, alright?" A pause, "Hey, I told you to breathe, man, com'on. Calm down, alright? Your man needs you right now. It'll be alright." He promises, reaching out and giving Billy's arm a squeeze. "We'll figure this out once Anderson is on his way."

*

"If I don't I get the feeling my boys will, they know him. No way they don't look for him after something like this. Anderson was the big puppa bear to these guys ever since he got to Anvil. Hell he was like that with his unit back in the box and some of them have been with him since all the way back then." He shakes his head before taking a couple of breaths to properly calm himself down. "Just wish Frank was still here, no way the bastard would have got away." He presses his hand harder again now as he looks at Anderson, trusting in Curtis but wanting to verify the fact he is going to make it in his own head.

*

As promised, EMTs arrive and head into the center. Anderson is looked over by professionals as Curtis steps back, leading Billy along with him with a soft press at the back of his bicep. There's questions about what happened, and any soldier wanting to speak is allowed to answer. It's suggested to them that they speak with the police, make a statement, and they are told which hospital that Anderson will be transported to. Once gone, Curtis exhales and strips the gloves off his hands with a wet snap. "Alright, guys, calm down if you can. He's going to be fine. Grab a coffee, or a shower, the bathroom is down the hall there, but you'll have to take turns. He'll probably be in surgery for awhile, so you have some time to collect your thoughts, alright? You're safe here." He promises. It was always safe here for soldiers.

Turning, he motions Billy over, pouring them both some black brew into small, styrofoam cups. "Yeah, I miss Frank, too. What you have to do now is go through this the right way. Talk to the cops, let them know about Mad Dog. You got your boy out of there and he'll be fine. You did good."

*

He slumps against the wall and slowly slides down to the floor. "I already told the boys to tell the cops everything they saw and what we did. We have nothing to hide here Curt, just worried about how this all plays out in the end is all. Don't think they boys will just let it go, and the cops involved now? Don't want it getting messy when as far as my boys are concerned they are doing the right thing." He sits down and takes a small sip of the black coffee, smearing red across the pristine styrofoam cup. "Look at this Curt…" He laughs without humour and holds out a hand flat and watches as it shakes. "I haven't got the shakes for years. Hell me and Frankie got caught during our last tour, ambush. No way we should have survived, the best of the best going down all around us. And I didn't shake, not once. But, here, now…fuck." He slams the hand back against the wall.

He looks up towards his boys, his friends and his employees as they file in and around. "Go home guys, if you can. Get some sleep, see your families. If you can't I'll see you at the hospital."

*

Curtis walks to be close to Billy. He rests his back against the wall, but stands. Sipping his brew, he drinks in some air behind it to help cool it while in his mouth. He listens, silent as ever, observant and attentive. He doesn't speak until the other soldiers move out and away. "Saying it's not your fault doesn't work. Not for you, anyway. It's the truth, though, Billy. Out there, back here? Some things just don't change. What can change is how we deal with it. You didn't do this, Billy, and you didn't bring this on them. They know that. You have to know that, too." Another sip, he slips down to sit with him, taking time to move his false leg into the right position before his rump meets the floor. "Keep breathing."

*

Emotion drains from his face as he stares at the opposite wall for a couple of minutes the only movement the rythmic sway of his wrist causing his coffee to ebb and sway in his cup. Finally when he does speak his voice is low and clam. "Yeah maybe you are onto something their Curtis, this shit? It wasn't supposed to happen here, not like this anyway." He shakes his head "Over there we, I, was alwaus ready for it. For something." He does his best to shake his head and smile, the effect somewhat ruined by the blood and his dishevelled appearance.

*

"You don't have to be like that here. Not all the time. I know it's not easy and sometimes we can't turn it off. The goal is letting ourselves rest. It's a goal, though, and sometimes we can't reach it easily. It takes time." Draining his cup, he sets it aside, resting his hands loosely together and in his lap. "Let the cops deal with this. You and your boys are always welcome here, and you know that. We can talk about anything you guys need to. Hey, you didn't lose a man. In my book, that's always a good day."

*

"I was resting Curt. And now look at what happened." He shakes his head before draining the last of his own coffee before putting it to the side, resting his head in his hands before tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I'll make sure the guys know they are welcome though Curtis, last thing I need is them losing it now that they are finally back home because of one asshole with issues. They are good soldiers, good men." He breathes deeply before standing up, his hands instinctivly moving to straighten out his suit before he realizes he is dressed more casually. "Alright, I have to get to the hospital. Call Andersons family. I'll see you soon Curt."

*

"Hey," Curtis calls up, shifting to get up as well, though it takes him a moment longer. Leaning down, he collects the cups, stacking them together and moving closer to Billy. "You can't control that out there. What you can control is yourself. What you do. If you take too much onto your plate, you'll go crazy, man. Look after you, alright? Sometimes it's the best any of us can do." A smile, he pulls him into a hug, seeming to not hesitate at all from the blood stains. "I'll call Anderson's family if the hospital hasn't already. You want me there for comfort and support?"

*

"It's alright Curt, you have done more than enough. Get some sleep, just visit him sometime. Anderson has always done better with brothers around, and I have a feeling he would appreciate it even more now." He smiles shakily before heading out towards the door, pausing just at the entrance. "You doing alright here? I told you, if you want somewhere a bit nicer, you can use one of our conference rooms. Or I can just try and find some place."

*

"I'll be there once I clean up." He promises, walking over toward the chairs to start the process of putting everything away. It was the first time there was blood on his floor. "Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine here. I like it. Simple. Honest. Don't worry about me, just help the others when you can, alright?" He muses, "Mr. Moneybags."

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