Unstoppable (17 page)
Authors: Tim Green
THE KNOCKING ON HIS
door sounded like small explosions. Harrison bolted up, his leg aching.
“Harrison! Let's go.” Major Bauer's voice held no pity and he rapped again, shaking the doorknob. “We've got work to do.”
Harrison slid out of bed and used the crutches to help him across the room to unlock the door. Major Bauer barged in.
“You sore today? That's good. Means you're working.”
Harrison flopped back down on the bed. “Did you know I start that chemotherapy stuff on Friday?”
“What's that got to do with this?” Major Bauer wore Army fatigues and an olive-green T-shirt. His arms were dark with hair and he folded them across his chest, scowling.
“What's the use? I'm going to be puking all over myself, bald as a bat, and skinny as a string bean. Why should I do all this bull?”
Major Bauer nodded his head as if he were hearing something for the first time. “That's right. You'll get sick and lose your hair, and you'll get weak. But strength is like money in the bank. You put more in, and when you got to take some out, you still got some left. You put a little in, you take the same amount out, and you're bankrupt. We're going to put money in the bank. You really don't have a choice, pal.”
Harrison scowled right back at him. “I used to live in a place where they told me what to do like I was a dog. Coach and my mom aren't like that. You can't just
make
me.”
The major sat down on the end of the bed and put a hand on Harrison's good leg. “You know why I'm here?”
Harrison shrugged.
Major Bauer pointed up at the ceiling. “That man saved my life. There were almost two hundred Republican Guards surrounding us. We lost five men. Four of us were wounded. Coach and two others loaded the three other wounded guys into a gunship. They thought I was dead. I looked like it. The chopper was taking on fire and the pilot wanted to get out of there. Coach held a gun to his head and wouldn't let him leave until all the bodies were on board. I was one of those bodies, alive, barely. My leg was scorpion food, scattered all over the sand. Do you know how long that man wished for a son? And then you came, and he didn't believe it could happen, not with a thirteen-year-old boy . . . but it did.”
Harrison swallowed, and shook his head. “I'm not really his son.”
The major stared at him, hard. “You don't really believe that, do you, pal?”
Harrison looked down. “No.”
The major gave his leg a squeeze. “Come on. I heard you were unstoppable. Let's see it.”
Harrison got up on his crutches and followed Major Bauer into the kitchen. The light coming through the windows was gray and weak. The major had boiled eggs, toast, and orange juice all laid out. They ate in silence, then headed for the garage and got to work.
Becky showed up that night after dinner.
HARRISON WAS IN HIS
room. Dinnertime had come and gone. Coach brought home a new Mac laptop after school, and Harrison spent the afternoon exploring the internet. He was busy on the computer when his mom knocked softly and came in.
“No surprises this time,” she said. “But Becky is at the kitchen door.”
“She saw all my stuff?” Harrison was thinking of his rehab equipment.
His mom shrugged. “Can she see you? I think it would make you feel better.”
Harrison's heart was thumping. He pulled the covers aside, then tucked his legs in, rumpling the spot where his missing leg should be; finally, he put a pillow down over it so that if someone didn't know, they might think he hadn't lost his lower leg at all.
Harrison took a deep breath. “Okay.”
His mom bit her lip and disappeared.
Harrison tapped on his computer until he heard the soft shuffle of Becky's feet and the uncertain steps she took across the living room floor. Then she appeared in the doorway like an angel, bright and soft and lovely to look at. In her hand was a small bouquet of flowers.
“Hi.” She smiled at him like nothing was wrong, extending the flowers. “You were out of it in the hospital.”
“Sorry about that.” He spoke without any real emotion as he took the flowers and set them on the lamp table. “Thanks for visiting me.”
“Of course I visited. Um . . . Justin was pretty upset in school today.”
“Who do you think this is harder on? Justin?” He pointed to his missing leg beneath the sheets.
“Well, thanks for letting me in.”
“Yeah, well, I've got to show you something. I go for chemo on Friday. I guess I'm pretty sick.”
She looked down at her shoes. “You don't look sick.”
“I will. Soon. I doubt you'll want to see me then.”
“Why do you say that?” She looked up at him, confused.
“Look.” Harrison turned the computer screen for her to see.
Becky took a step backward and gasped.
“YOU SEE?” HARRISON HELD
his chin high. “I told you.”
“Who is that?” Becky pointed at the screen.
“That's me. That's what I'll look like. Scary, right?”
She shook her head.
“Yes, it is,” he said.
“What is that, Harrison?”
“It's called Face Morph. You take a picture of yourself and you can do things with it. I made me bald, which I'll be. Skinny, which I'll be. Pale, that too. Tired. Exhausted. Ugly from pain, and probably suicidal.”
“You're scaring me.”
“I'm scared.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I'm not Harrison, the new kid in town who scores seven touchdowns a game. That's over. . . . I'm a freak. And you need to know it before you come in here with your stupid flowers acting like nothing's wrong. Just get out.”
Becky took a step back and searched his face. “Really?”
“Really.” He tried to melt her with his glare.
Her shoulders slumped. She turned slowly and reached for the door.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Nothing came out.
She stepped through the door, but he knew if she looked at him, she'd come back. That's what he wanted, more than anything. He just couldn't ask. So with all his might he willed her to look back at him.
The door began to swing closed.
THE LATCH CLICKED INTO
place like a firing squad.
Harrison winced.
Her footsteps crossed the living room. The front door screeched open and banged shut. The whisper of her shoes on the concrete walk faded into the night.
MAJOR BAUER RODE WITH
Harrison and his parents to the hospital on Friday and accompanied them all the way to Harrison's room. There was another bed there besides his. A suitcase rested against the wall. A Sony PSP along with a teddy bear anchoring a bunch of “Get Well” balloons sat on the night table. The sheets were rumpled and Harrison looked around for his roommate.
The nurse saw him looking. “Oh, that's Marty. He's in therapy until lunch. Let's get you into a gown.”
The nurse said she'd be back and disappeared. Harrison sat on the edge of the bed and let his mom help him out of his clothes and into the hospital gown. His fingers trembled as he tied the cloth ties together.
“Here,” his mom said, “I can do that.”
Harrison snatched it away from her. “I got it. Thanks.”
Major Bauer clapped his hands and looked around. “Well, I'll go see if I can scare up your therapist and get her mind right. I don't want them babying you just because of a little chemo.”
Harrison's parents watched the major go, and neither of them looked like they knew what to say when he'd gone. His mom sat down on the bed and held Harrison's hand. “It's going to be all right, Harrison. You're going to be fine.”
“They said I'm gonna be pretty sick.”
Coach put a hand on Harrison's head. “Good thing you're tough.”
Harrison shook his head. “Am I going to wear a wig?”
“Do you want to?” his mom asked.
Harrison ran a hand through his short hair. “I like my hair this way.”
“Then I'll get you one just like it,” she said.
Harrison looked at Coach. “The championship was pretty ugly, huh?”
“What made you think of that?” Coach asked.
“Just me, losing my leg. All this. We would have stomped them.”
“I know we would have.”
“Next year,” Harrison said.
Coach looked like he might cry, but he nodded hard instead. “That's right.”
The nurse came back and stuck an IV needle into Harrison's arm. The clear liquid dripped from the bag on its hook above and Harrison could feel the cool salt water flowing into his arm.
“Well,” Coach said, extending a hand for Harrison to shake, “I'm off to school. Go get 'em, Son.”
Harrison kept his chin up, but when his father walked through the door, he felt only half as strong. His mother squeezed him tight, as if she had read his thoughts. A doctor Harrison didn't recognize came in and introduced himself as Dr. Kirshner. His hair was gray and thin, and he wore glasses that made him look as smart as he sounded. His voice was gentle, but he spoke in clipped sentences, where every word meant something. He explainedâmore to Jennifer than to himâthat the medicine they were about to give him would kill all the newly forming cells in Harrison's body.
“We think the tumor was contained.” Dr. Kirshner wriggled his nose to work the glasses up higher on his face. “But with this kind of cancer, we know chemotherapy increases a patient's chances by a significant factor.”
Harrison swallowed at the word
chances
. They all knew what it meant.
The nurse injected another clear liquid into his IV line, something they said would make him relax. He went into a kind of daze that lasted until he realized a technician was injecting a tube of sparkling amber fluid into his IV line.
“It's going to feel a bit cool,” the technician said. “Maybe a tingling.”
Harrison realized she wore a wig herself and that her eyebrows were nothing more than skid marks of colored pencil on her brow. Something in her eyes said she was sorry as the cool tingling crept up Harrison's arm and into his heart. He lay back and half closed his eyes, tears turning everything into a kaleidoscope of colors.
His mom held his hand tight.
HARRISON PRETENDED TO SLEEP,
but he was really listening.
His mom talked in a low voice to the nurse about the boy named Marty.
The nurse said, “Please, Mrs. Kelly. We do this all the time. It's hard at first, but we know it helps for children to see other children who've been through the same thing, and Marty is so upbeat. Trust us.”
Harrison kept his eyes shut, wondering what it was they did all the time and whether or not he could avoid it. He didn't feel that bad so far, just a heavy weight in his stomach, nothing he couldn't get along with. He heard the door swing open and the rattle of wheels. He snuck a peek at the gurney a male nurse wheeled in like a librarian making a delivery of books.
It wasn't books he delivered.
Between the two nurses, they carefully lifted Marty off the gurney and into the bed. The rails clacked into place and Harrison heard the hum of the bed's motor as someone raised it up.
“Hi, I'm Jennifer Kelly. Are you Marty?”
The sound that answered Harrison's mom shocked him. The words hummed across the room with an electronic buzz. They were in the voice of a space-age robot.
“Yes. I am. Marty. Very nice. To . . . meet you.”
Harrison's heart began to pound a bit harder. He couldn't keep his eyes closed and he stretched his neck to see.
“Oh, Harrison, you're up. Harrison, this is Marty. Marty, my son, Harrison.”
Marty's face was big and round, and he was bald. His ears stuck out and his enormous eyes blinked at Harrison. Marty's skin was as pale as a sea creature's and his body was a skeleton. He held what looked like an electric shaver to his neck, just along the lip of a long red scar that ran from the bottom of his chin down to his chest.
“Nice. To meet you . . . Harr-i-son.”
The shaver buzzed.
“They said. You are. A foot. Ball. Player.”
“I . . . was.”
“What school?”
“Brookton.” Harrison realized his voice was barely a whisper.
“Well.”
Marty's machine buzzed and his bird's chest heaved up and down with the exertion it took for him to gulp out the words.
“I go. To Mason. Maybe we. Will play. Against . . . each other. When we. Get out. Of this place.”
Marty's big round face was as bland as his electronic voice, but his eyes glittered like diamonds in the sunshine. Harrison couldn't tell if Marty was joking or not.
Marty put the shaver back to his neck.
“You look. Very strong. They said. You scored . . . forty-six. Touchdowns. I would. Hate to. Have to. Tackle. You.”
Harrison couldn't help liking him. He smiled at his mom, then at Marty.
“They are. Trying. To make. Me.”
Marty raised a scrawny arm.
“Into. A . . . body builder. I am. Going. To take. A nap. Nice. To meet. You.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Marty nodded once, then lay his big head back into the pillow. He swapped his voice machine for the bed control. The motor hummed as it laid him flat. He closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep before the bed hit bottom. The nurse pulled the curtain around Marty's bed.
Harrison tried to watch TV.
Fifteen minutes into an old black-and-white show called
The Rifleman
, Harrison started to throw up. Marty stayed quiet behind his curtain through it all. Harrison wondered if he was asleep or just hiding from Harrison's loud groans and the terrible retching sounds. When Major Bauer appeared in the afternoon, Jennifer whispered to him and he went away looking disappointed.
Harrison wanted to die.
Dr. Kirshner appeared and looked at the nurse's laptop. He talked to Harrison's mom, then examined Harrison before he said, “I've got something I think will help. Hang in there.”
In just a few minutes, the technician with the wig returned with a small vial of clear liquid. She injected it into Harrison's IV line, offered him a smile, and went away. Ten minutes later, Harrison began to feel better.
Soon Coach arrived along with Major Bauer. When they learned that Harrison was feeling better, they smiled at each other.
“Good,” Coach said, “because we've got some great news.”
