Out of the Dungeon by SM Johnson Read Free Book Online

ribs, and we need his blood fully oxygenated, broken
ribs or not. And we need him to conserve energy. You're looking at
a medically induced coma. He's had surgery on his cervical spine.
His head and neck have been immobilized. He'll be wearing a halo
apparatus, because it's a matter of maintaining spinal integrity in
order to maintain physical mobility. We take all of this very
seriously. We will take fantastic care of Jeff, and although all
the tubes and hoses don't look very pretty, they do their jobs, and
the only one who suffers is you. Jeff will sleep. And he'll
remember very little of his time in the intensive care unit. Which
is a good thing."
    "It's too much to process," Roman said.
    "Of course it is. If I've told you enough for
now, that's fine. I'll tell you more later. My name is Zachary, by
the way. I'm scheduled to be here afternoons for the next seven
days, so I expect to get to know your friend very well."
    "My partner," Roman said.
    "Yes. We'll take good care of him. The super
scary stuff is pretty much over. We know the extent of his
injuries, and the things that needed to be fixed have been fixed.
There's been no sign of internal injury or bleeding, which is
good."
    Roman closed his eyes, which made him sway a
bit on his feet. Zachary took his arm. "I think you've had enough.
Tell him you're here, tell him you love him, and then go home. Come
back in a few hours. Two or three short visits a day is enough.
We'll get a schedule for you tomorrow. One five minute visit every
four hours or something like that. He needs to rest. You need to
eat and shower and manage the rest of your life. He'll want you
here when we start waking him up, but that won't be for a few
days."
    "I should go home?" Roman asked.
    "Yes. Go home. Get some food, take a nap.
Come back in a few hours to say goodnight, and then go home again.
Stop by in the morning before work and say good morning. There's
nothing else you need to do right now. Jeff's in very good
hands."
    Roman nodded his thanks. He leaned over Jeff
and said, "I'm here. I love you. Everything's going to be
okay."
    He walked out of the ICU on legs that
wobbled.
    When they got back to the apartment, Roman
left Dare in charge of what to do about supper, and went to Jeff's
room to find the Johnson's number. Calling them was about the last
thing he wanted to do, but he had to do it.
    Thank God for transparency, he thought, when
he found Jeff's address book in the desk drawer right where he
expected it to be. Transparency was like rule number one, or
something. Privacy was a privilege, not a right. Secret-keeping was
akin to treason. There would be no secret life, no secret heart, no
secret desire, and no secret wish. Any numbers in Jeff's cell phone
were to be copied into the book. Any screen names or email
addresses were also copied into the book. The front inside cover
had names and numbers for important people – like parents. Beneath
the address book, he found what looked like a recent journal. He'd
take a look at that, too, but first things first.
    He took the address book and journal to his
own room, took a deep breath, and called the parents. They had a
land line, still had the same number they'd had when Jeff was
growing up, according to Jeff. Roman stretched out on the bed and
listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, hoping they'd
answer, then hoping they wouldn't. Then hoping they would again,
because he couldn't leave a message on their answering machine. Not
about something like this.
    Jeff's mom answered on the eighth ring.
    "Hello? Who is this?"
    "It's Roman, Mrs. Johnson."
    "Roman! Well, I'll be. I just said to Ed last
night, 'I wonder how those boys are getting on in the city?' How
are you, dear?"
    He almost said 'fine,' so used to casual,
meaningless conversations with them. The Johnson's were fine,
upstanding Christian folk, enamored of the 'love the sinner, hate
the sin,' philosophy, and they were always polite to Roman. They
loved their son, had