Warning! Before you proceed, be sure to have those tissues nearby...
Speechless Part Nine
Rated: PG
“Dead? When did this happen? How?” Nikki asked. MacGyver thrashed and squirmed, and she took his hand and stroked his forehead, calming him.
Without saying a word, Pete turned on the television in the hospital room.
“The international community is stunned and in mourning today over the loss of one of its most influential members. After what aides described as a successful and productive visit to the state of California, Prime minister of Italy Giorgio Nucci suffered a massive coronary incident. He was rushed to the hospital where he was pronounced dead just a few moments ago,” the reporter said in a somber tone.
Nikki and Pete watched, equally shocked as they showed archival footage of the man they had just protected from death, only to die anyway, smiling and looking healthy and alive, attending various summits and events in his native land. The images shifted dramatically, revealing the chaotic scene outside the hospital where Nucci had been taken, the lights of his motorcade and the ambulance lights clashing, swirling wildly, slashing through the scene in intermittent flashes of red and blue.
“Sources close to the prime minister’s staff say that there are no official plans for a state funeral as of yet, but that there will be an organized ceremony soon, one that will doubtlessly be attended by all heads of state around the globe and devoted followers of Nucci in his home country, where he was indeed a popular and beloved leader who will be dearly missed by his people. A formal inquest on behalf of the Italian government will be conducted to determine the exact cause of the prime minister’s heart attack to either rule out or confirm anything suspicious that might have contributed to his sudden and shocking death, such as poisoning. Those close to the prime minister say his doctor recently claimed he was in fine health, leading them to question and want to investigate whether a criminal act has occurred here to assassinate him. The results of those findings will be made public once they are known, however it may take some time. For now, the world grieves and is saddened by a tremendous loss.”
“They won’t find anything,” Pete said, turning off the television. He looked at Nikki. “Remember my heart attack? The doctors thought it was natural, but we know the truth.”
“You think the secret organization that Brandon worked for is responsible?” Nikki asked.
“There is no doubt in my mind.” Pete sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, why didn’t we think of that before? They must have had some back up plan in case MacGyver was able to somehow communicate the information we needed to stop the assassination. They know his mind. They know he’s clever and can improvise out of almost any challenging situation. They had to take that into account and prepare for it.”
“So, Nucci dying of heart failure was their second line of attack in case their first one didn’t work. There was nothing we could have done, no way to know. They wanted him dead at all costs, no matter what,” Nikki said. She looked down at MacGyver, who still seemed to remain calm with the presence of her touch, his eyes still seeing nothing, staring emptily. “What about MacGyver? How does his current condition fit in with all of this?”
Pete looked at his lost, blind, and deaf friend miserably. “I think the drug is designed to punish him if he attempts to communicate in any meaningful way,” he said. “It’s just as you said earlier. He only got worse when he had something important to tell us. What has happened to him now could be its final, most debilitating stage.”
“There is still the possibility that he will recover,” Nikki said, watching him, continuing to stroke his cheek and hair dotingly. “Maybe he will get worse before he gets better.”
“Maybe, but the point is we can’t count on anything for sure, as we just found out with Prime Minister Nucci’s safety. These people are unpredictable. Who knows what they have planned for Mac? I hate to say this, but he could even die as well.”
“I hope not.”
MacGyver’s motions increased in power and strength. He pushed Nikki out of the way, struggling to get out of bed, groping frantically. Soon, he tumbled out of bed, crashing to the floor.
“MacGyver!” Pete shouted, rushing to his side, trying to help him.
MacGyver violently resisted him, pushing him away as well, staggering to his feet. He began stumbling around the room, his hands searching, smashing into walls he couldn’t see or anticipate. His forehead hit the sharp corner of one of the walls, cutting it. He slipped and fell to the floor where Pete caught him, reacting quickly, holding him as tightly as he could, trying to control him despite the vigor and ferocity of his movements. From their position on the floor, Pete examined his cut forehead. He couldn’t tell how deep the gash was, as head wounds were often deceptive, bleeding profusely as any extremity cut did no matter how minor. Still, he was worried that MacGyver had seriously injured himself in his futile exertions.
“Get the nurse in here,” he said to Nikki, fighting to restrain MacGyver. “Also, get the doctors and whoever else you can find, quickly! I can’t hold him for long!”
Nikki nodded, running from the room.
MacGyver tried to run, but the jungle was too dark and dense, limiting his vision and his ability to see where he was going. His whip slashes stung mightily, the pain excruciating and intolerable, infection, starvation, and fever weakening him. El Diablo’s wicked, deep laughter echoed around him.
“You cannot run from me,” his voice bellowed. “I own you—eternally.”
Hands grabbed him, chains clamped down on him. They dragged him back down to hell with them.
“No! NO! Please, let go of me! No! I won’t go back there! I won’t…” “Prepare a mild dose of sedative,” Dr. Carrington said.
Several orderlies, nurses, and hospital security staff had to hold MacGyver down as he fought them, straining to free himself from their grasp, panic, fear, and desperation showing on his sweaty, red face. Nikki and Pete watched helplessly as the nurse rolled up his sleeve and was at last able to hold his jerking arm steady long enough to find a good vein and inject the sedative. Gradually, his motions ceased, and he was still, his disturbing, blank, sightless eyes closed. Once they were sure he was docile enough, the orderlies, security guards, and extra nurses left the room, leaving only Dr. Carrington, Dr. Ladd, and the nurse who had administered the injection in the room with them. The nurse worked to clean and place a bandage on his head wound.
“It appears to be superficial,” she said dabbing gently at the blood, “but he will probably have some bruising around the area.” When she was finished, she left the room.
“He’s so lost and confused,” Nikki said, touching him again. “I’m sure he was just trying to make sense of his surroundings.”
“He’s fortunate he did not injure himself more severely,” Dr. Carrington said.
“Now you see why he needs better supervision,” Dr. Ladd said. “I hope you both have seriously considered my advice about placing him somewhere where he can receive proper care.”
“We have,” Pete said, glancing at Nikki sadly. He sighed. “Neither of us likes the idea of seeing him in a home, but we know we have few alternatives at this point. We would like to go ahead and do it. We’ll sign the necessary papers and make all the other appropriate legal arrangements to get it done.”
Dr. Ladd placed his hand supportively on Pete’s shoulder. “I assure you it will be a good place for him, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “They’ll treat him well there, humanely, with dignity and respect. My friend and colleague Dr. Angela Bartlett runs the facility. I’ll make an appointment for you to get acquainted with her and the grounds as soon as MacGyver is admitted.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Pete said.
***
He had a brief moment of freedom as his body soared through the air only to have it taken from him as gravity and the weight of his chains dragged him back down, pulling him deep into the water, slowly drowning him, his lungs filling with fluid… “Easy! Take it easy! Hold him steady!” Dr. Angela Bartlett shouted.
MacGyver thrashed around in the bath they had prepared for him at his new home, splashing large quantities of water from the tub onto the staff, his arms reaching out, trying to find something to grab, something that would prevent him from sinking, gasping and coughing, choking as he swallowed some of it, his face frozen in a terrified, panicked expression.
“So many scars,” one of the staff muttered, noticing the evidence of brutality marking MacGyver’s naked form.
“He was tortured,” Dr. Bartlett said sadly, remembering what Dr. Ladd had told her before admitting him.
“Is his condition because of that torture?”
“He wouldn’t say. Actually, he’s not sure. The cause of his condition is quite mysterious. They can’t seem to find an explanation for it. That was all he would tell me.”
Calmly, she and the rest of the caretakers worked to hold MacGyver still and reduce his fears, washing and stroking his hair gently, massaging it, doing their best to show him that what they were doing was therapeutic, not traumatic. They rinsed him carefully, gently pouring trickles of warm water down his lathered head.
“There, that’s better,” she said, soothing him even though she knew he couldn’t hear or understand her. “It’s going to be all right now.” She looked at the rest of her staff and stood, rolling up her wet sleeves. “It looks like everything is under control now,” she said to them. “Let me know when you’re finished. He needs to be completely cleaned up and dressed before his visitors see him. I have to go meet them first. Let me know if any other emergencies arise.”
“We will, Dr. Bartlett. Thanks for stepping in. He was just…so uncontrollable, so wild and afraid.”
“Yes, well remember that this is new territory for him. He wasn’t born this way as some of our patients were. It has to be a little scary for him, not to know where he is or what is happening to him, especially if he is used to all his senses working properly for him. It will take him some time for him to adjust and acclimate himself to his new situation. I appreciate your patience in dealing with him.”
“As always, Doctor.”
Before leaving, Angela watched her new patient for awhile as he sat in the tub, naked and shivering, clinging to the caretakers as if to remain afloat even though they would never dare allow him to sink below the water to drown, reliant completely on strangers to assist him even in basic hygiene, staring blankly, lost to the outside world. She had read his background and his file, sent over by Dr. Ladd. She knew what a charming, active, healthy, attractive, and independent man he had been, now only to be reduced to someone as helpless as an infant. Through patience and a lot of hard work she knew he could become self-sufficient again and live at least a semi-normal life, becoming aware once again of the world, but he could never return to the way he had been. After working with people with severe disabilities for years, it never got any easier for her. She had seen triumphs and miracles, but what she witnessed everyday still saddened her. Sighing, looking down at her soaked, oversized pink sweats, her long brown hair tied back plainly in a ponytail, she decided she needed to clean herself up as well before meeting the friends of this vital, healthy young man, robbed of his senses.
***
Dressed more formally in a finely tailored black dress suit, her hair still tied back in a ponytail with a clip instead, Dr. Bartlett introduced herself to Pete and Nikki and they walked the grounds.
“I have to say I’m impressed,” Pete said as they walked. “This looks nothing like a hospital or nursing home.”
“It looks like a large, comfortable house,” Nikki said, taking note of the patios, gardens, and furniture.
“That was our goal in establishing this place,” Dr. Bartlett said, smiling sadly. “My brother was developmentally disabled. Growing up, my parents treated him decently, but I saw how he was ridiculed by my peers, treated as if he were less than human. After he died of a congenital heart defect, I vowed that I would honor him by studying to work with others similarly afflicted, some even more severely. It was my goal that I would build a care center where those with severe disabilities could come and learn to become independent and realize their potential, that despite their limitations they could grow. That’s precisely what we do here. We provide activities and educate them. We treat them like the human beings they are. I promise you, MacGyver will be well cared for. Teaching the blind, deaf, and mute to relate to the world has undergone some advances since the time Anne Sullivan taught Helen Keller. I promise you he will return to you, even if he has been altered by the lack of senses. He will learn to recognize you and objects around him again. He won’t always be as dependent or helpless. It’s just going to require a lot of time and effort, on his part as well as ours.” She reached out and clasped their hands, squeezing them supportively. “I know it isn’t easy for you to accept him this way, after he’s been able to function so well on his own for most of his life, but he will return to you. Have faith.”
Pete found he had tears in his eyes after hearing her heart-rending, emotional plea. He admired her for taking a personal issue and turning it into a crusade for the betterment of the disabled. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said.
“We know you’ll do all you can for him,” Nikki said, “and we really appreciate it. I must say I was worried about him being here, but after taking a look around it doesn’t seem so bad.”
A nurse approached Dr. Bartlett, whispered something in her ear, and then left. Nodding her head, Dr. Bartlett returned to her visitors. “He’s ready to see you,” she said. “He’s having his lunch, but he’s almost finished.”
***
They forced his mouth open painfully with some kind of clamps, pushing a tube down his throat that poured a foul-tasting, lumpy, inedible substance into him, giving him no alternative but to swallow it, struggling to breathe and fight his gag reflex, his body chained, broken, weak, and useless to fight against it. All he could do was wait for what seemed like several painful hours until the torment ended… MacGyver coughed and choked, spitting up some of the soup that a nurse was feeding him.
“Oh, it’s okay,” the nurse soothed, her words unheard by him. She took a napkin and wiped his mouth. As he continued to cough, she rubbed his back, feeling the rough ridges of the whip scars beneath his clothes. “Breathe…come on, breathe for me.” She checked to make sure his choking wasn’t more serious, making sure he didn’t need the Heimlich performed on him. Soon, his coughing ceased, and he gasped, inhaling deeply, struggling to return to normal breathing. “That’s it, that’s good. Good work, Handsome.” She smiled at him and brushed away a stray lock of his hair, still slightly damp from his bath. He stared blankly, still completely insensible. His hands reached out and grabbed for something. Instinctively, both Nikki and Pete took his hands and squeezed them, letting him know they were there.
Dr. Bartlett saw the look of despair in their morose, haggard expressions. They also seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed watching MacGyver, squirming slightly in their seats as he suffered such indignity, a grown man being fed like a baby. She had seen that look from too many families in her life, including her own.
“Remember, he won’t always be this way,” she said to them. “There is hope. He will improve.”
Pete and Nikki hoped so, but a part of them wondered how he ever would, his situation seeming to be beyond help, even from this benevolent, strong-willed and well-intentioned woman who had devoted her life to the care of those such as him. They could see it in his blind, staring eyes. He was lost to them.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
