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“Before I begin, allow me to introduce myself,” the doctor started. “I’m Dr. Phillip Madden, and I specialize in neurology. I was called down to the ER when Nickolas was brought in because it was evident to the ER physician that first treated him that he had suffered a head injury.”
Brian’s heart sank. “How bad of a head injury?” he heard Kevin ask.
Dr. Madden adjusted his small wire glasses on his nose and took a deep breath before answering Kevin’s question. “Well, right now it’s a little early to tell. It will take at least over night, maybe even a few more days, to determine the full extent of the injury. Right now, he’s in a coma, but many patients come out of comas and make full recoveries. However, to be completely honest with you… it doesn’t look very good.”
Brian sucked in a shallow breath, feeling suddenly light-headed. This couldn’t be happening.
“According to the police report on the accident, the driver of the car Nickolas’ car collided with was drunk and was driving on the wrong side of the road. He managed to swerve out of the way when he saw Nickolas’ car enough to avoid a head on collision, but unfortunately, he didn’t get out totally of the way soon enough, and Nickolas, unable to stop, plowed right into the side of the car.” Dr. Madden illustrated this using his hands. “It was lucky he was wearing his seatbelt; otherwise he would most likely have been thrown from the car, and to be honest, be dead right now. The seatbelt managed to hold him in, but his head hit the steering wheel with the force of the impact. That’s what caused the head injury.”
They were silent a moment, as they took this information in.
“What about the people in the other car?” Howie asked, always the one to be concerned about others. “We talked to one of the girls that was involved, but she never said if they were all okay or not.”
“From what I’ve heard, there were four kids in the other car. Two girls, two guys. The two girls are fine. The boy that was driving is in jail. Unfortunately, the other boy was killed. He was sitting in the backseat on the side where Nickolas’ car struck,” Dr. Madden relayed sadly.
Kevin shook his head sorrowfully. Why was it that the driver, the one who was responsible for all this, was just fine, while the innocent people – Nick and the other boy – had to pay? It was so unfair. Life’s a bitch, he thought ruefully.
“Can we go see Nick soon?” Brian asked hopefully.
“Yes, you can go now,” Dr. Madden replied. “I’ll take you down the hall to his room.”
“Thanks,” Brian said.
Dr. Madden started down the hall, and Brian, AJ, Kevin, and Howie followed along behind him. Brian saw a sign on the wall that read Neuro ICU, and he shuddered. Dr. Madden led them into the Neuro ICU and down a long hallway, with doors on each side. He stopped at one towards the end and opened the door. He ushered the four men in, then stepped in behind them.
“I’ll leave you alone with him in just a minute,” Dr. Madden said. “But first, I just want to explain a few things to you.”
He walked up to the bed in the middle of the room, where Nick lay. The Boys hesitantly followed, gathering around their friend’s bed. What they saw when they got a good look at him was horrifying.
Nick, who, hours before, had been so vibrant and full of energy, now lay on the bed like a corpse, his body unmoving, his skin as pale as death. His head was bandaged with white gauze, but they could see spots of red where blood had soaked through the bandages. There was a hose coming out of his mouth and an IV snaking into each of his arms. Little pads were stuck to his head and his chest, connecting to wires which led to various beeping machines.
Dr. Madden fingered the tube coming out of Nick’s mouth. “This is a respirator,” he explained to the guys. “He’s not able to breathe on his own right now, so this is helping him out.”
Brian began to tremble slightly. Not breathing on his own? He knew that had to be a bad sign.
“These tubes coming out of his arms are IV’s, as I’m sure you already know. Right now we’re giving him fluids to keep his body hydrated, as well as some drugs that help to preserve his brain function and keep his cells from dying,” Dr. Madden continued. “This little pads attached to his forehead are called electrodes. They’re measuring his brain activity level. The ones on his chest are measuring his heartbeat.” He motioned to a monitor to one side of the bed that showed a green line, which rose and fell steadily with the beat of Nick’s heart. “Are there any questions?” Dr. Madden asked, turning back to look at the guys.
Kevin glanced quickly at the other three, then, swallowing hard, he replied, “No. Thank you, Dr. Madden.”
“You’re welcome, gentleman. Just hit this call button if you need anything, okay?”
They nodded, and Dr. Madden left the room, leaving them alone with their comatose friend.
They all looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do. It was Brian who made the first move. He grabbed a chair that was pushed up against one wall and dragged it up to Nick’s bed, sitting down in it. AJ took the other chair that was in the room, while Howie and Kevin remained standing.
His hand trembling, Brian reached out and gently patted Nick’s hand, which lay motionless at his side. “Hey, Frack,” he said softly. “Happy birthday.”
***
“We need to make some phone calls,” Howie said awhile later. A nurse had come by Nick’s room and kindly asked them to leave so that Dr. Madden could examine Nick again. They were inwardly relieved, for being in that room with Nick made them all uncomfortable. It was so hard, seeing their friend like that, in that foggy state between life and death known as a coma.
Now they sat in a private waiting room down the hall from Nick’s room, pondering over what to do next. “Yeah, you’re right,” Brian agreed. “We need to call Bob and Jane first. Since they’re all the way out in California, I doubt the hospital could get a hold of them. And I need to call Leigh too.”
They nodded. “And don’t forget management,” AJ added. “They need to know too.”
“Yeah. Which reminds me, what are we going to do about the Superbowl tonight?” Kevin asked, returning to AJ’s earlier question.
They sighed. “I guess that’s what we need to talk to management about,” Howie said. He, Brian, and AJ all looked to Kevin, for as their leader, he was expected to make the phone call to management for them.
Kevin nodded. “But first,” he said, “Nick’s parents. Who’s gonna do it?”
They all looked at each other again. None of them wanted the heartbreaking job of telling Nick’s parents that their son had been in a horrible accident and was now here in a coma, fighting for his life. But someone had to do it.
“I will,” Brian finally said, swallowing hard. The other guys nodded. They had expected Brian to volunteer, for although they were all close to Nick, Brian was his best friend.
Brian pulled out his cell phone and punched in by memory the number to the Carter home.
Kevin shut off his cell phone, sighing loudly. “Well, fellas, it looks like we have no choice. We have to perform at the Superbowl. Backing out now really isn’t an option.”
He was repeating the words that management had just told him on the phone minutes earlier. He had explained the situation with Nick, and they were genuinely sorry and upset. But they had told him that there was no way they could back out of singing at the Superbowl now. The Superbowl people would never be able to get another act in time. He, Brian, AJ, and Howie would have to sing it, even if Nick wasn’t there to sing with them.
Brian sighed heavily as well, but he knew that no further arguing would change the mind of their manager. In the music industry, he knew sacrifices had to be made. Even the worst ones. He remembered nearly three years ago, when he had undergone heart surgery. Kevin, AJ, Howie, and Nick hadn’t even been able to see him before the surgery because they had been at Disney World, performing for Graduation Night. They had protested that one too, but still, they had ended up there, singing with only four out the five of them. And that night, at the Superbowl, they would be doing the same.
“What are we going to tell the fans?” Howie asked. He was always the first to be thinking of the fans.
Kevin sighed again. “That’s another thing management brought up. They said we can keep it quiet today and just announce that Nick’s sick tonight at the game. But in a few days, if Nick hasn’t gotten drastically better, we have to hold a press conference. We have to not only let everyone know, but make it public that we’re canceling the concerts and all that stuff.
They nodded. Kevin glanced at his watch. It was about three in the morning already. They had been there for hours, and he knew they were all exhausted.
“Guys, we better get heading back to Bri’s now. There’s nothing more we can do here, and if we still have to go to the damn Superbowl, we’re gonna need to get some sleep. Our flight to Tampa’s at 11:00 in the morning,” Kevin said.
The guys didn’t protest, just nodded sleepily. They all stood up and walked together down the hall.
Marissa woke up screaming. She jerked upright and sat in bed, sweat dripping between her shoulder blades, her face hot, her breathing rapid and shallow.
A dream, she realized. Just a bad dream. But, of course, the bad dream was based on reality, on what had happened the night before.
Marissa began to cry as the events of the past evening came flooding back to her. Just hours ago, she had been at a party, having an awesome time. Now one of her friends was dead, another was an emotional mess, her boyfriend was in jail, and Nick Carter could be dead. She wasn’t sure how bad his condition was or even if he was still alive. After Kevin had reamed her out in the hospital waiting room, she hadn’t stuck around to find out. She had ran off to her mother in tears, and Joyce had driven her home. There she had gone straight to bed, hoping to forget the horrible tragedy that had just occurred.
But I’ll never forget it, will I? Marissa asked herself, more tears spilling from her eyes. She knew she would never be able to get away from it, for it haunted her even in her dreams. Whether she was awake or not, it was always there, and she couldn’t run from it. What had happened, happened because of her and her friends, and there was no changing that, no hiding it either. There was nothing she could do about. It would be there, in the back of her mind, for the rest of her entire life.
Brian dreamed about it too. He had nightmares all night, all involving Nick lying in that bed, hooked up to all those machines. When he awoke in the morning, he realized he had barely slept at all with the horrible dreams that interrupted his sleep all night long.
Brian sleepily rolled over to look at the clock beside his bed. It was not even eight. He had had only about four hours of sleep. Less, actually, because of the nightmares.
Brian knew there was no way he could go back to bed however, so he pulled himself up. Leighanne was already up, he realized, noticing her side of the bed was empty.
He staggered into the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink. “I look like shit,” he muttered aloud, as he studied his reflection. His wavy hair was sticking all over the place. His blue eyes were dull and red-rimmed, and beneath them were dark circles.
He combed his hair, trying his best to tame it, and splashed cold water over his face. He then wandered downstairs in his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt.
He entered the kitchen to find Leighanne at the stove, flipping pancakes. Howie was pouring glasses of orange juice while Kevin and AJ slouched at the table. AJ stared moodily into space, while Kevin glanced half-heartedly at the Sunday paper.
“Morning, everyone,” Brian said, forcing a smile of fake cheeriness.
“Morning,” the guys mumbled back.
“Morning, sweetie,” Leighanne said, smiling sympathetically at him as she noticed his bloodshot eyes and the dark bags under them. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Minutes later, she was serving up the pancakes, while Howie passed around glasses of juice. None of them ate much, only picked at the food. Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the paper, not wanting to make eye contact with one of the guys for fear he would lose it. He had barely slept that night either, for he, too, was kept up with worry over his youngest bandmate.
Suddenly, he gasped. “What?” the guys all asked, looking up in alarm.
“There’s an article about it,” he said softly. He passed the paper to Howie and pointed to a headline. “Local Teen Killed in Drunk Driving Wreck”, it read. Howie read the article, and sighed with relief when it came to a part about Nick and didn’t mention his name, referring to him as “a twenty year old Florida man”. He was glad, not wanting the fans to find out about Nick this way. When he was finished, he sadly passed the paper on to Brian. “It’s so sad,” he murmured. “That kid that died was just eighteen, only a senior in high school.”
“Yeah, too young to be drinking,” Kevin snapped. “And Nicky’s only twenty. He’s too young to have to go through this too.”
“Twenty one,” Brian corrected softly.
They exchanged sad glances and nodded slowly. “Some birthday present,” AJ said bitterly.
The other three ignored his comment and went back to picking at their pancakes.
A few hours later, the four of them sat at their gate at the airport, glumly waiting for their flight to be called.
“American Airlines Flight 108 from Atlanta to Tampa, now boarding,” came an announcement.
“That’s us,” Kevin said, climbing slowly to his feet.
Brian turned to Leighanne. “Remember, keep checking in with the hospital, and if anything changes, call me on my cell,” he said.
She nodded. “I will, sweetheart,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Bye, honey,” he said, hugging her quickly.
“Bye,” she said back, managing to smile at him as he followed the guys towards the plane.
“And here to sing the National Anthem for you are the Backstreet Boys!” the announcer shouted, his voice echoing throughout the stands. The crowd cheered wildly, but quieted down in reverence as the four of them began to sing.
“Oh, say can you see…” they began, trying their best to push their thoughts of Nick out of their minds and focus on the pride and honor of the song they were singing.
When the song was finished, the last chords still ringing out through the crowd, the four Backstreet Boys joined hands and bowed, then left the turf.
As soon as the game was over, the Boys headed back to their hotel, instead of heading to any of the post-game parties. They had a flight to catch early the next morning and wanted to get to bed early. They also didn’t want to have to answer any questions about Nick and why he was not there.
When morning came, they packed their things quickly and headed to the airport, glad to be heading back to where they could be with Nick and not have to worry about the public and the media.
The only thing they had left to do was a press conference, which had been scheduled for later that day, at a nice hotel in Atlanta. There they would announce the cancellation of the rest of the tour and explain what had happened to Nick in as little detail as possible, not wanting to get the fans any more upset than they had to.
The four of them slept most of the flight, for although they weren’t really tired, it was the easiest way to escape from their fears and put everything behind them for a couple short hours.
When the plane landed, Leighanne was there to pick them up and bring them back to her and Brian’s house. It had already been decided that AJ, Howie, and Kevin would be staying with Brian for as long as they needed to, as long as Nick was in such a critical state. Brian was glad they were staying with him. Even though they didn’t like to talk about Nick much, for it hurt too much, just being all together, like they were, provided some comfort to them all.
When they got home, it was around eleven in the morning. They ate a quick lunch at home and then headed to the hospital to spend a few hours with Nick before the press conference at three that afternoon.
At the hospital, they all went immediately upstairs to their private waiting room in Neuro ICU. There they found Jane Carter, looking as if she hadn’t slept all night.
“Jane!” Brian cried, hurrying over to her. “When did you get here?”
“Just a couple hours ago,” she replied, smiling sadly at him. “I got the first flight I could.”
He nodded, then opened his arms to give her a hug. Jane could tell from the expression in his eyes how hard this ordeal was on him, as well as her, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. The hug helped them both.
The remaining three Backstreet Boys hugged Jane as well, and they settled down around her.
“How’s Nick doing this morning?” was the first question asked.
She sighed. “From what you told me last night, nothing much has changed. He’s in a coma, and his doctor, Dr. Madden, told me that there’s fluid building up around his brain that’s putting a lot of pressure on it. He said if it doesn’t go down in a few days, they’ll have to operate.”
Brian’s eyes widened. Operate? On Nick’s brain? Just the thought made him feel queasy with nervousness.
“Have you gotten in to see him?” Kevin asked.
She nodded. “I just came back from his room. It… it was so hard… seeing my baby like that…” Her voice trailed off, and tears swelled in her eyes. They were afraid she was going to break down, but she put on a brave face and quickly blinked back the tears.
“Is Bob or any of the kids here?” Howie asked.
She shook her head. “BJ’s at a modeling convention, and the other kids have school. Bob’s staying home with them for now, but they’ll probably fly out next weekend. We’ll see how things go.”
They nodded, thinking how tough it must be on Nick’s father and younger siblings to have to stay home in California, so far from Jane and Nick, knowing that Nick was in such bad shape and not being able to be near him.
Once again, Brian felt relieved to have all the guys around him. He hoped they could help Jane get through this, as well as themselves.