SEVERED RELATIONSHIP

by BJ Bourg

Mallory tapped me gently on the shoulder. “It's time, baby.”

I groaned and rolled onto my stomach. The ceiling fan above cloaked me in its cool breath. The feathered mattress below beckoned me to remain. “Just ten more minutes,” I begged. “I promise, this is the last time.”

The bed shifted when Mallory rolled to a seated position and her swollen feet fell to the floor. That minor exertion caused her breath to come in labored gasps. “Sorry, Wyatt, we have to get up now or we'll be late.”

“Okay, okay.” I sat up and glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. My shift had ended at midnight. By the time I'd written my reports, drove home, and showered, three hours had passed. Two and a half hours wasn't my idea of a good night's rest. I said as much to Mallory as I followed her to the bathroom, dragging my feet.

“Now you feel my pain. I haven't slept for nine months.” Mallory sat in front of her lavatory mirror and opened her makeup caboodle. “Of course, my work is only beginning.”

I bent over her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. My hands came to rest on the silk nightgown that covered her outstretched belly. “I'll be there for you every step of the way.”

She leaned her head back against my chest. “You'll make a great dad.”

“And you'll make a beautiful mom.” I turned to the shower. “In fact, I bet you're the only pregnant lady in the hospital wearing makeup.”

“I told you when we met; I'll never leave this house without my beauty mask.”

“You don't need make-up.”

“You're blinded by love and—”

My Law and Order ring-tone called from the night table. I turned to walk out the bathroom, but Mallory grabbed my arm.

“Don't even think about it.”

I licked my lips. “I just want to see who it is.”

“You're on vacation.”

“I know, but it could be an emergency.”

“You have your own emergency right here.”

“I'll see my baby born, don't you worry about that.”

“I'm not worried. I'm just telling you not to answer your phone.”

Mallory's brown eyes were a different shade of dark. I'd seen that color only once before, back when she found out my brother had hired a stripper for my bachelor party. It hadn't mattered that the tall blonde with natural double D's was a classy stripper merely working her way through college; I caught hell.

My cell phone chirped to let me know I had a new message. I was curious, but not stupid. Without uttering another word, I stepped into the tub. Halfway through my shower, Mallory's scream cut through the rushing water. I jerked the shower curtain back and found her leaned over in the chair, clutching her belly. Fear gripped my throat and cut off my breathing. “What…what's wrong?”

“I think my water broke.”

“What's that mean?”

“You need to get me to the hospital quick!”

Panic pushed me out of the shower and into my clothes. I helped Mallory into the outfit she'd bought for the special occasion. It was a scoop-necked, corral pink dress that she claimed was appealing to her skin. She called the material rayon.

Under Mallory's scrutinizing watch, I tossed her clothes into the suitcase and packed the toiletries. My cell phone rang four times while I packed, but Mallory's glare kept me from answering it. When I walked by the night table, I snatched it up and dropped it into my pocket. Before it fell from my hand, I stole a glance at the screen. Five new voicemails.

I tossed Mallory's suitcase into the trunk of my unmarked cruiser, beside my Pelican rifle case. I shut the lid and pulled out my phone. I flipped it open and was about to dial my voicemail when a grunt drew my attention to the house. I turned and saw Mallory teetering at the top of the steps. She clutched the rail with one hand and supported her belly with the other. I rushed over and took her arm. “Sweetheart, I was coming back for you.”

Mallory blew a mouth full of air upward in a feeble attempt to get the hair out of her face. “What were you doing?”

“Loading the suitcase.”

“After that.”

My eyes dropped to my feet. “I was just trying to see who called.”

She sighed and wrapped an arm around my neck. “Just take me to my chariot, King Wyatt Piatkowski.”

***

When Mallory and I were finally alone in her spacious hospital room at Thibodaux Regional Medical Center , I examined the machines at her bedside. One machine had a tiny heart glowing on the screen. “What's this thing do?”

Mallory smacked my hand. “Don't touch anything.”

“I'm just asking.”

“Press the wrong button and you'll twist me into a pretzel; and that won't be good for either of us.”

I folded my arms in front of my chest and stared down at Mallory. Her face glowed under the makeup. I shook my head. There she lay, her body changed forever, about to pass the equivalent of a Pro-sized football and risk death, yet she was the happiest I'd ever seen her. Yep, there's something very special about a mother's love. “That y'all are willing to risk life and body to bring children into this world is the ultimate display of selflessness.”

Mallory's eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” My face reddened. “I was just thinking--”

A knock at the door saved me. I turned abruptly from the bed. Mallory's mother stood in the doorway with an armful of bags. I took them from her and placed them in a corner of the room. She rushed to Mallory's side. “When will he come?”

“I've only dilated two centimeters.”

“I guess we're in for a long wait.” Mrs. Tyler reached into a bag. “I brought you a book to read. It's called Ex-Factor.”

“Cool cover.”

“Yeah, I got it from--”

“Excuse me, ladies?”

Mallory and her mom looked over as though they'd forgotten I was there.

“I'm going for a walk; leave you two alone to catch up.”

Mallory smiled her thanks.

I strolled to the elevator. A nurse in purple scrubs smiled when I walked up. “Where are you headed?”

“Down.”

She pressed the button and we waited. Just then, my phone rang. The nurse's mouth dropped open. “I love Law and Order! Where'd you get that ring tone?”

“Downloaded off the internet.” I fished the phone from my pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Wyatt, thank God you answered.” It was one of our veteran dispatchers. “Major Burke needs to speak with you ASAP.”

“Can you patch him through to my phone?”

“Hold on.”

The elevator doors opened and I followed the nurse inside. My mind raced. Why was the Major calling me on my vacation? I thought back to everything I'd done wrong, but dismissed them all because he already knew about my sins. I believed in full disclosure. I'd always told my supervisors everything I did, so they could cover my backside if the need ever arose.

I was still musing over the possibilities when the elevator reached the first floor. I stepped aside so the nurse could exit and then walked out into the sweltering heat of a typical Louisiana day in June.

Captain Burke finally came on the line. “Wyatt! Jesus, it's been a hell of a day. I need you to report to work.”

“But, I'm at the hospital.”

“I understand. I wouldn't be asking if it weren't important.”

“What's going on?”

“A man walked into the Dollar Shop and killed his ex-wife in front of twenty witnesses.”

Mallory's face flashed in my mind. I rubbed my forehead. “Can't Bryan handle it? I'm here with my wife and she's about to have the baby.”

“We need a sniper, not a detective. This guy took hostages. As best we can tell, sixteen of them. Three escaped and he shot one woman in the back as she tried to run out the front door.”

“How bad is she shot?”

“The team can't get close enough to extract her. This guy keeps engaging them from somewhere in the store. They're afraid to return fire because of the hostages.”

“Look, Major, I'd love to come out there, but--”

“Wyatt, you've been training for this moment for twelve years. Here's your chance to make a difference. To save some lives.”

“Sir, I'll have to pass. Chad 's got just as many years as me; he's up to the challenge. I'm sure--”

“Son, you're the only sniper we could reach. Like I said, I wouldn't call you if I didn't absolutely need you.”

I swallowed hard. There was no mistaking the urgency in Major Burke's voice, but I'd always promised Mallory I would never put my job before my family. “I'm sorry, Sir, but--”

“Damn it, Wyatt! This is no longer a request. It's an order! Get your ass to Dollar Shop and stop that man from killing someone else! If you can't do that, don't bother returning from vacation. I understand you've got some personal shit going on, but this is a matter of life and death.”

“Sir, my family needs me.”

“Your family needs money and insurance coverage. If you can't give them that, they'll find someone who can. Now get your ass to Dollar Shop!”

I opened my mouth, but the line went dead. Sirens screamed in the distance. Although the squad cars were nowhere close, I could see the flashing lights in my mind. Could feel the adrenalin dump. My heart rate steadily increased. Major Burke was right. I'd trained my entire career for this moment.

I rushed into the hospital and up to Mallory's room. She was reading the new book and her mom was working on a crossword puzzle. They both looked up when I entered.

“What is it?”

I fell to my knees beside the bed. “Baby, I have to go. It won't--”

“You answered your phone?” Mallory's face fell. “You promised!”

“A man killed his wife at the Dollar Shop. He's got hostages and--”

“Why can't they call someone else? You're on vacation!”

“I'm the only sniper they have, baby. The others won't answer their phone.” I collected her hands and pulled them to my chest. I stared deep into her eyes. “Look, if I don't get out there quick, he's gonna kill someone else. I'll go, do what I have to do, and rush back. This won't take long.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“Nothing will happen to me.”

Mallory chewed on her lower lip as she studied my face. “You have to promise me nothing will happen to you.”

“I promise.”

“Then go; but hurry back. You have to see your son being born.”

***

Major Burke nodded his appreciation when I strode up carrying my Accuracy International Model AE .308 sniper rifle. The moving van that served as our command post was cluttered with negotiators and support personnel. A dry-erase board displaying a sketch of the area was propped against one wall. I walked over and studied it. The front of Dollar Shop faced the new Super Center that had opened two weeks prior. If I could make my way to the roof of that building, I knew I'd have a clear shot at the suspect if he showed his face.

Major Burke moved beside me. “What're you thinking?”

“I should be able to get a good shot from the roof of the new Wal-Mart.”

“Good. Let's do it.”

“Do we have a picture of this prick?”

“Don't even know his name. All we know is he walked into the shop, told his ex-wife something about kidnapping his son, then shot her dead.”

“What about the hostage he shot?”

Major Burke frowned and shook his head. “By the time we got to her it was too late.”

“Have the negotiators gotten anywhere with him?”

“He won't respond to anything they've tried. We believe he's going to kill again.

“What are my rules of engagement?”

“This is the real deal. You get a shot, you take it. The sooner the better. We don't need anymore innocents getting killed today.”

My heart thumped in my chest. It all became very real at that moment. The reason I'd spent thousands of grueling hours behind my rifle at the range was finally here--it was time to save lives. “Description?”

“White male, brown hair, brown eyes.”

I grunted. “That narrows it down.”

“The hostages who escaped differ on clothing description. One says he's wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt. The other two say he's wearing red shorts and a gray muscle shirt. They all say he's wearing some sort of baseball cap.”

“I guess the gun in his hand will be a dead giveaway.” I turned to one of the patrolmen who stood outside the command post. “Can you drive me to the back of Wal-Mart?”

He nodded and I followed him to his cruiser. We drove to the Super Center and met with the manager. He led me to the back of the lay-away department. He handed me a key that was labeled Roof and pointed to a small flight of stairs. “That'll take you up top.”

I slung my rifle over my shoulder and started my ascent. The metal hatch squealed when I pushed it open. I scrambled to the roof and, crouched like a tiger stalking its prey, made my way to the front of the building. Heat radiated off the black roof and cloaked me like a heating blanket. Sweat pooled into my eyes. I blinked against the salty sting. Just another day at the range, I told myself.

I picked a spot that was set back from the storefront sign and to the right of it, where I wouldn't be easily detected. When I dropped to my belly, the heat burned through my SWAT coveralls and nearly singed my flesh. I pushed the rifle forward and flipped open the lens caps. Pulling the butt of my .308 rifle snug into my shoulder, I married my cheek to the stock. The crosshairs on my Leupold scope were crisp. I moved them toward the front window of Dollar Shop and scanned the aisles of the store.

“Sierra One,” the command post dispatcher called, “are you in position?”

“Ten-four,” I acknowledged. The interior of the store was bright. I spotted a body on the floor, the upper portion of which was obscured by one of the register counters. The lower portion of the body revealed a woman clad in a skirt and pink sandals. There was blood on the floor beneath the body and smeared on the woman's legs. “Must be the ex-wife.”

I watched for several minutes, but there was not a hint of movement inside. Suddenly, from my perch, I heard a muffled pop .

“Shots fired!” someone screamed over the police radio.

“Sierra One, do you have a visual?” Major Burke's voice was tense.

I took deep breaths to calm my racing heart and slowly tracked from side to side, searching, begging for a glimpse of the suspect. I wiped the sweaty palm of my shooting hand on my shirtfront. “Negative.”

More gunshots.

“The shots are moving toward the front of the store,” came the scratchy message from some excited officer.

“Sierra One, do you have a shot?”

From deep within the Dollar Shop, a figure rushed into view. My hand tensed on the pistol grip of my rifle. The figure was running from the back of a long aisle toward the front of the store. As it moved closer, I could see it was a young woman holding a baby in her arms. Suddenly, the woman's mouth dropped open and she lurched forward. She fell hard on her face. The baby slid from her hands. A man approached the woman from behind. He wore jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a tan cap.

The man skidded to a stop and it was then that I saw the silver semi-automatic pistol in his hand. He stood over the woman, who lay squirming on the floor, blood oozing from a bullet hole in her back.

I brought the crosshairs to the tip of the man's nose. My heart raced. The rifle shook. Depersonalize the subject, I whispered to myself. He's a target, nothing more. Slow, steady, breaths. I touched the trigger with my index finger and began to slowly apply pressure. Just then, the gunman lifted his head and gazed directly into my scope. I gasped.

“Sierra One, I repeat, do you have a shot?”

The man continued to stare directly at me. I pulled my eye from the scope and stared over the rifle. He was not visible to my naked eye. There was no way he could see me. I blinked. He is only a target. This is just a training exercise.

“Sierra One, if you can read me, neutralize the target as soon as possible! He's executing hostages!” Major Burke's voice revealed the panic he must've surely felt.

Taking a deep breath, I dropped my eye to the scope and centered the crosshairs between the gunman's eyes. He lifted his pistol and pointed it at the defenseless woman on the floor. She rolled onto her back and held her hands up, as though begging for her life. The man said something and the woman squeezed her eyes shut--

My right shoulder bucked. My ears rang. I stared in shock at my gun hand. I hadn't even realized I was pulling the trigger. The last thing I remembered seeing was the crosshairs between the gunman's eyes. I dropped my face to the stock and gazed through the scope.

Sweat dripped like rainwater into my eyes. I blinked it away. When my vision cleared, the woman came into view. She had snatched up her baby and was crawling toward the front door. Blood drenched the back of her shirt. I jerked my scope to where the man had been and nearly vomited in my mouth. He lay motionless in a crimson heap. Blood and brain matter dripped from the shelf behind him.

“Bravo One to Command Post,” the entry team leader bellowed over the radio, “suspect is down! I repeat, suspect is down! Team One, move in!”

I pushed off of the hot roof and turned away from the scene. The world around me spun like a top on speed. I staggered forward. The hatch came into view. My radio droned in my ears. It was Major Burke's muffled voice asking about my status. I looked down at my radio. The roof beneath my feet swayed. I lost my balance and collapsed to my knees. I clutched at my grumbling belly. Stomach content rushed to my throat and spewed from my mouth. The violent spasms lasted several minutes and left me lightheaded and weak. My face burned with embarrassment when I saw the large wet spot on the front of my coveralls. I grimaced when the smell of urine greeted my nostrils like a dreaded in-law.

“Sierra One, what's your status?”

I sank to the roof and turned onto my back. The sun's unrelenting rays cloaked me in heatstroke. My eyes slid shut…

***

I tossed my dirty coveralls in a bag and dropped to the sofa in Major Burke's office. I surveyed the empty room, my mind blank. My head pounded. I closed my eyes to take a deep breath, but immediately opened them when the gunman's face came into view. My phone rang and I answered it without thought. “This is Wyatt.”

“Congratulations, you're the proud daddy of an eight pound baby boy.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “How's Mallory?”

“She's good,” Mrs. Taylor said. “Just worried about you.”

I wiped my nose on my shirtsleeve. “I'll be okay. It'll just take--”

A woman's screams echoed down the hallway from the squad room. I immediately flipped my phone shut and jumped to my feet. I could hear several officers trying to calm the woman, as she demanded to know which cop killed her son. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the office and walked on uncertain legs down the hallway.

My breath was shallow when I entered the squad room. Major Burke was standing in front of the woman. Two of our female officers were on either side of her. She wore faded jean shorts and a loose T-shirt that had seen better days. Her hair was unkempt and her tanned face bare. Sure signs that she'd rushed out her house upon hearing the news. My movement caught her tear filled eyes. When she saw me, her shoulders fell. “They won't tell me who killed him.”

I cleared my throat and rubbed my sweaty palms on my shirt. My heart raced in my chest. “I did.” My voice was so soft I barely heard it.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Her tan faded to an impossible shade of pale. “What did you say?”

“I…I killed him.”

The woman's eyes turned to slits. Her lips were a thin, white line of anger. She stomped toward me. When she was within striking distance, she punched me full force in the nose. I didn't blink, taking the punch like I deserved it. Blood oozed from my nostrils. The woman shoved her fist into my chest. “How in the hell could you kill your own brother?”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry? You murdered your own flesh and blood and all you can say is you're sorry? Where were you when Lee needed you? He tried calling you all morning. He even asked me to try. He desperately wanted to talk to you. Said you were the only one who could help him. You let him down. He was there for you when you needed him, but where were you? ”

I hung my head. My lower jaw burned. Tears formed like rain clouds on a Louisiana summer evening. “What…what happened?”

“Betty told him she was getting remarried and moving to Michigan , taking Andy with her. You know how much he loves that kid. It was killing him to think he wouldn't see his son. You were his only hope, but you failed him. You failed us all.” She shook her head. “How could you take my baby away from me?”

“I…I was…was just doing my job. He killed Betty, and some other person. He was about to kill a young--”

My mother spat in my face. “You're nothing to me. You don't exist.”

“Mom, please don't.”

“All you had to do was answer your phone. You could've stopped this. He would've listened to you.” She shook her head. “You've destroyed my family. If your dad were here…”

My chest ached. “I was only doing my job--”

“I hope someone kills you out there on your precious job.” She spun and stormed out the door.

I stared down at my trigger finger and wished for a knife so I could cut it off. My eyes were drawn to the nasty scar across my wrist. Tears flowed freely down my face, as I remembered the day I tried to build a tree house with my dad's circular saw and nearly cut my hand off. Lee was wearing his favorite shirt that day, but he didn't care. I could still see the concern etched into his young face as he'd ripped it off and wrapped it around my wrist, slowing the bleeding. I had been too weak to walk, so he'd carried me to the house. At the hospital, the doctor had announced that Lee was a hero; he'd saved my life…

I fell to the ground and pounded my fist on the cement floor, bawling like a newborn. “Why didn't you just let me die?” Tears and saliva sprayed from my mouth as I screamed the question to the memory of my dead brother. “Why didn't you just let me die?”