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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Duty - 17. Chapter 17

The morning of the big day had arrived and Will hadn't slept. Jared had been stitched up after a four-hour wait at the Civic Hospital's emergency room. A low-priority patient, Jared only required a few stitches. But in a hospital which was ridiculously understaffed, overworked and underpaid, the doctors were too busy trying to keep up with the night's rush that seemed to keep pouring through their doors and Jared was continuously being relegated to the back of the queue.

Will had sat with him in the makeshift waiting room desperately craving a cup of coffee and he regretted again being the one to volunteer to stay with his injured friend. The main waiting room was undergoing renovations, and a particularly large set of scaffolding blocked the only coffee machine, so Will had no choice except to sit there and wait.

Jared was grateful for the company as they sat in that small cramped room packed full of people with every conceivable ailment under the sun. Will did his best not to stare, but a woman had just thrown up into a wastepaper basket beside him, and a man across from him cradled a tiny baby that wheezed and rattled every time it took a breath. It was hard not to sit there amidst so much human misery and not appreciate his own good health.

The loud whoosh of air from behind him caused him to spin and look at the air delivery system that deposited a travel canister into a basket right beside him. He paled noticeably at the blood transfer packets that the canister contained. At that moment it seemed to hit home where he was, and remind him he was face to face with the true mortality of humankind. Faced with his own mortality and all he craved was a cup of coffee.

He despised the thought of death, denied the fact that though he was getting older he was going to die. He had the twenty-something attitude that he would live forever. As long as he could deny the existence of death it couldn't claim him. But God's plan was a simple one: in the end he killed everything.

He stared out into the hall where a gurney rested. A pair of paramedics had wheeled in a young man, no more than twenty, who had been involved in a car accident. He wasn't seriously hurt; a lot of cuts and bruises and a few broken bones. But the young girl who had been rushed in a few moments before him was currently in the OR, clinging to a fragile life that had been shattered in one careless moment.

Will balked as a scruffy-looking man staggered into the waiting room; he had a lost look about him, confused. He stared about himself wildly, as he stumbled to the nurses' reception and asked them something frantically. Will couldn't make it out but there was a look of concern exchanged between the two nurses as one reached for a phone.

The man gestured at them in disgust before he staggered over to the chairs, picking the only free seat beside Will.

Will tried to appear unfazed by the sudden proximity of the man, but Jared caught his agitation and exchanged a sympathetic look with him. Will offered a tight smile and crossed his arms, trying to appear as uninterested as he could.

"The Americans did this to me!" the wild man exclaimed, indicating a cut on his forehead. "They did this to me."

Will tried to keep focused on a wall poster depicting the affects of smoking on the human cardio-vascular system. He hoped that if he just ignored the man, he would simply leave him alone. He was wrong.

"Are you one of them?" the man asked incredulously, as he reached out to touch Will's arm.

Will's eyes had widened at the sudden violation of his personal space. "No," he said firmly, "no, I'm afraid I'm not."

The man caught Will's heavy English accent and his eyes glittered, "You're a fucking Brit. You're worse than a Yank `cause you side with them." He leaned close to the woman who'd vomited, "They're allies, President Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, they are both trying to turn us all into androids, they want to invade Canada."

Jared tried to hide his grin, but Will didn't quite appreciate his sense of humour. He shifted uncomfortably and looked desperately over at the nurses.

"They tried to convert me," the wild man grabbed at Will's arm. "You're not going to win you know. You can't just convert people whenever you want. Sooner or later they are going to get away from you, go back to their own lives. Like me, you couldn't turn me."

Will pulled his arm out of the man's feverish grip and walked over to the reception desk. "Can't you do something?" he demanded desperately, as he glanced back to where the man sat.

"Security is on the way, sir," the nurse reassured. "Just be patient..."

Will sagged his shoulders and grumbled, "Sure, but you're not an android invader." He returned to his chair and smiled politely at the wild man.

"What?" the man demanded. "I'm not taking any more of your damn pills!" He became more agitated as he stood up and walked to the reception desk. He paused as if to say something to them and returned to his chair. He repeated the motion two more times as Will moved to stand over by the far windows of the waiting room.

Jared, still cradling his wounded hand, looked up at Will, "You don't have to stay, buddy..."

Will shrugged, "Sure I do, someone has to make sure the androids don't get you."

The entrance of the two uniformed security guards came as a relief to Will and the distress of the wild man. He tried to push his way past them, but they held him securely.

He stared straight at Will. "You'll not convert me," he bellowed. "Go back to your own land."

The security guards guided the man away between them as he continued to scream and throw threats at his perceived enemy. Will swallowed as he watched the man be led off; there was something about it, the heightened paranoia of a deranged mind that jarred Will's perspective of reality. It was nothing more than the ramblings of a man in desperate need of heavy medicating, but Will stared after him nonetheless. For that man, his demons were all too real. The rest of them weren't so lucky.

"You okay, buddy?" Jared asked him in concern.

Will nodded, "Yeah; no, it's nothing." He smiled wryly, "I always thought there was something artificial about Margaret Thatcher."

Jared grinned, "Isn't she retired or something?"

Will sat back down in his chair. "At least that's something," he said. "Are they ever going to let us out of here? It's nearly six am by that clock and we've been here all night."

Jared chuckled, "I'll buy you a coffee when we do."

"Mister Hammond," the nurse said as if on cue. "The doctor will see you now."

Will smiled. "Luck, buddy," he said as he shifted for the final wait.

It was seven in the morning when Will finally got home, Jared in tow. They pulled up and wandered into the house already alive with activity. Jeff's mother and grandmother slaved over breakfast while Jeff and his brothers waited patiently in front of the television watching Hazel Mae on sports desk.

Little Peter was already dressed in his tuxedo, looking petulantly at the TV which was supposed to be his during the day. He grinned happily when he saw Will coming in and bounded up.

"Jesus," Jeff commented as they stumbled up into the living room. "You two look like hell."

Will let out a loud yawn as he climbed the stairs that separated the living room from the kitchen. He claimed the coffee pot of black nectar and poured himself a large mug of the life-sustaining liquid. From the taste of it Andrew wasn't up at that point, and Will realized that he hadn't seen the boy since dropping him off the day before with Maria. He shrugged off the thought as he stirred in some sugar and smiled in gratitude to Mrs. Sternosti, "Thank you."

"You boys look like you had fun last night," she commented. "Were there girls?"

Will chuckled as he sat down at the table. "We were good as gold," he said with a grin.

"Sure," Mrs. Sternosti said as she handed a second mug of coffee over to Jared. She `tsked' when she saw his bandaged hand. "Dirty rotten stop outs," she said, as she returned to her French toast.

Will wrapped his hands around his mug, "Well, actually I was accused of a plot to take over the world."

"Now that's a scary thought," Jeff said as he came up to the kitchen. "The whole world run by little cute blonde..." he caught himself and simply shrugged. "Anyway, it just wouldn't be pretty."

"Oh it'll be pretty," Jared replied. "Too pretty, if you know what I mean," he winked teasingly.

"You boys leave William alone," Mrs. Sternosti said, as she placed a plate full of French Toast down in front of him. "He's a good boy, unlike you two."

Will beamed as he reached for the syrup.

"Did Brody make it back to the hotel okay?" Jared asked as he looked over at Jeff.

"Yeah, after we dropped you two off we drove Rafik home; Farah was sitting up waiting for him and boy was she pissed..."

"Language," Mrs. Sternosti warned, as she set another plate of toast down on the table.

Jeff grinned as he claimed the plate, "So anyways, last I saw of Brody was when he dropped me off here. He took off in your jeep," he grinned at Jared. "I think he was going to his hotel."

"Aw, Dude; my Jeep?" Jared complained, "Man, now my insurance rates are going to go up."

Will drained his mug and went for a refill, the more coffee he drank the better he would be during the coming day. Twenty-four hours and zero sleep added with a lot of caffeine, he was going to be wired for the day to come.

"My dad also picked up the Tuxedos yesterday," Jeff said. "They're upstairs. The wedding is set to start at ten, it's getting towards eight now. Between all of us showering and whatever else, if we start now we should be ready in time."

Will let out a heavy sigh as he motioned towards the stairs, "At least we're not over at Lisa's now, all the girls getting ready at the same time."

"Stop it, you're turning me on," Jared joked.

Will shook his head as he followed his friends upstairs. Since Rafik had declined it was only the three of them in the groom's wedding party. Which meant they were the only three to be subjugated to the tuxedos. To Will, it was a chance to dress up like Bond.

He was instantly disappointed, the tuxedos Jeff had rented had a decided Scottish feel to them. Traditionally Scottish. The sharp red kilt looked better suited to one of Andrew's shirts. Will's jaw worked in dismay. But it was Jared who finally put a voice to the displeasure.

"Kilts?" he said desperately.

Jeff nodded, "I've always loved them. It'll surprise Lisa when she sees us in them."

Will swallowed, "You ordered these?"

"Yeah," Jeff replied enthusiastically. "Don't you love them?"

Jared picked up the two tuxedos marked for himself and Will. "They came from that Tux place in the St. Laurent Mall, right?" Jared asked hopefully

Will tossed him the receipt. "Size 34 short, if you need it," he added.

Jared nodded. "I'll be back in half an hour," and he bolted for the door, as Will spread his arms to block Jeff's attempt to stop him.

"What are you doing?" Jeff bellowed after Jared who was taking the stairs two at a time.

Will dropped his arms and sat down on the edge of his bed, affixing a serious look on his face, "Jared's just going to grab us a couple of real tuxes." He looked sympathetic, "I don't put on a skirt for anyone."

Jeff looked angry as Will's Jeep started up in the driveway and Jared peeled off, "You guys didn't even ask...Man, it's supposed to be my wedding!"

Will nodded. "Of course it is," he looked up, "which is why you get to wear the skirt..."

"Dude, that just ain't cool!" Jeff replied.

Will rose and guided his friend out towards the bathroom further up the landing. "Look at it this way, you'll make more of an impression on Lisa if you're unique..."

The door to the guest bedroom Will had been sharing with Andrew opened in front of them as Maria backed out onto the landing. She was still wearing Andrew's jersey, just Andrew's jersey. She turned and froze as she came face to face with her elder brother.

"Jeff!" she squeaked as she took a step back into the room on reflex. That allowed Will to see past her and into the room. Andrew was sitting up in bed, a look of shock on his face.

Jeff looked from his sister to Andrew and then back. Realization dawned on him and his jaw worked angrily.

"Jeff, don't freak out!" she said, as she tried to placate him.

"It's not him you have to worry about," Will snapped coldly, his eyes never leaving Andrew.

"Will," Andrew's eyes were wide in fear, "it's not what it looks like... I can explain..."

Will shook his head, "I don't want to hear it," he said, as he swallowed down the ball of rage rising in him, a rush of emotions desperate for release.

Jeff looked from Will to Andrew, his eyes ablaze; he would have lost it there and then had Will not caught his arm. "It's not worth it," Will managed as he looked down at Andrew. "We don't have time to sort this out now."

Jeff sneered as he turned to his sister, "Put some fucking clothes on before Mom and Dad see you looking like some cheap slut."

Will hung his head as Andrew gave him a pleading look. He simply turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He stood clutching the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying not to think about everything that had happened, but history had a way of reminding everyone of its lessons.

Copyright © 2011 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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