Chief of Police Cecil Struthers had arrived at the station just as the state troopers were delivering Sonny Black, Gene Burress, and Tommy Hall.  The trio were quickly booked and charges were filed, all of which they were more than willing to pin on Morris Grafton.

“Well, this bust might redeem us a bit, boys,” Struthers pointed out to Police Detective Everett Calhoun and Detective Chris Masters.

“Do we get our badges back then?” Masters anxiously questioned.

“Too soon,” Struthers replied with a wave of his hand.  Then he leaned forward on his desk.  “I want to make sure the D. A. stays off our back before I reinstate you boys.”

Calhoun was about to protest when the telephone rang.  “Struthers, here.”

Calhoun and Masters watched as the police chief slowly ran his fingers through his thinning hair, worry etching his brow.

Struthers hung up the phone.  “Too bizarre for words!”

“What’s up?” Calhoun asked.

“Somehow, the car that was takin’ Dixon and Grafton to Birmingham ended up in the Warrior,” the chief stated.

“Are they…?” Masters asked.

“Pulled ‘em both outta the car,” Struthers replied, “but they were already dead.”

* * *

In the emergency corridor of the Hale County Hospital, in room number seven, a team of medical professionals worked feverishly to save the life of a seventeen year old.

Dr. Roman Di Polis headed the trauma unit and had dealt with many snake-bite victims in his fifteen-year tenure at HCH.  He knew they were working against the clock to save the boy, and right now the clock was winning.

The paramedics that rescued the kid had estimated that the actual bite took place at least five to ten hours before.  The boy was totally unresponsive.  He had stopped breathing on his own almost twenty minutes ago.  Dr. Di Polis knew death was hovering over them; he could almost feel it.

The poison had moved into the boy’s bloodstream and was now wreaking havoc on the kid’s organs and tissue.  On top of that, a quick series of emergency x-rays revealed several broken ribs, a punctured lung and a broken radius in his left forearm.

The doctor glanced up at the x-rays lining the wall.  He looked at the third one in the series and felt a shiver trickle down his spine.  The teenager only had one kidney*.  If the poison got to his kidney…

‘Don’t go there,’ Roman admonished himself. ‘I will not let this kid die!’

“His pressure is bottoming out, sir,” a voice warned from nearby.

Dr. Roman Di Polis didn’t know the boy on the table before him, but he was determined to keep him alive.  He bent near the kid’s ear and fiercely whispered, “Son, you gotta help me.  You gotta fight like you’ve never fought before!”

* * *

“Yes, my name’s Frank Hardy,” Frank acknowledged, “Joe’s my brother.  Do you know where they took him?”

David Neel looked to Chet Morton.  Chet nodded and said, “You better tell him or Frank’ll tear this place apart to find Joe.”

David nodded and faced Frank.  He could read the deep concern and fear etched in every fiber of the young man’s face.  “He was in bad shape, Frank.  He got bit by a coral snake tryin’ to get outta that pit they were stuck in.  They took him down the hall a ways.  They’ll do everythin’ they can to save his life.”

Frank felt the blood drain from his face.  “I need to find him.”

Frank backed out through the curtain, determined to find which room Joe was in.  He hadn’t gotten far when he heard a nurse requesting two more units of AB positive blood.

‘Joe’s blood type,’ Frank realized, staying close.

“I’ll have to call the blood bank,” the woman behind the desk replied.  “You already took all the AB positive that we had on hand.”

“I’ve got to have blood for this kid now,” Nurse Ann Mc Cue said anxiously.  “His pressure is almost non-existent and we still haven’t cleaned out all the toxic poison.”

“I can give you a couple units of O positive ‘til I can get the AB,” the other woman offered.

“Wait!” Frank spoke up, rushing up to the nurses.  “The kid in need of blood, is he the snake-bite victim that was just brought in about half an hour ago?”

“Who are you and what are you doing back here?” the woman behind the desk asked gruffly.

Frank turned quickly to Ann, “Please, can you tell me if he’s the snake-bite victim?”

Ann looked closely at Frank.  There was something about him that reminded her of the boy in room seven.  “Yes.  He and his friend were brought in together.  We’ve already given him blood, but he needs more.”

“Look, I just talked to our friend Chet; he’s the guy that came in with your patient,” Frank explained as rapidly as he could form the words.  “I have every reason to think that your patient is my brother.”

The gruff nurse again tried to dismiss Frank, “I’m calling security! Brother or not, you don’t belong back here without proper authorization!”

“But I have AB positive blood!” Frank desperately responded.

Ann smiled.  “Are you eighteen or older?”

“Yes!”

“Then come with me,” Ann said, taking Frank by the arm.

* * *

Chuck Morton stood just inside the emergency entrance, his wife holding tightly to his hand.  They glanced around the waiting area.  He saw his brother Chester, along with Betty and Iola, sitting and talking with four other men.

He looked at his wife.  He was so proud of her.  When a man named Jack Wayne called them and told them what was going on, it had been Joyce’s idea to come to the hospital and be with Chester and his family.

Joyce gave her husband a smile. “Let’s go.”

They approached the table and all conversation stopped.  Chester and Betty Morton stood and walked toward the couple that was approaching them. 

“Chucky…Joyce?” Chester was stunned.  “How did you…?”

“Someone named Jack called us and explained,” Chuck replied.  He glanced at the four men and Jack Wayne gave him a smile and mock salute.  Chuck returned the smile. “Thank you.”

Joyce stepped forward. “I – I’m sorry that we didn’t respond better…” She closed her eyes and sighed. Looking up, she continued, “We doubted Chet’s story.  That was stupid.  We should have known that Chet couldn’t…he wouldn’t…”

Betty embraced her sister-in-law.  Holding her, she whispered, “It’s so hard to think straight when you feel like your heart has been ripped out.  We harbor no bad feelings for you or Chuck.”

She pulled back and faced Joyce.  “Just let us grieve with you.  We loved Lydia, too.”

(* - see “Gamemaster” in the HDA library)