Chapter 3 – Aftermath

Howie awoke to a white ceiling. He stared at it curiously, wondering where in the hell he was. He turned his head slowly to the side, and discovered it hurt to do so. A hand descended on his arm out of nowhere, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He regretted it when he felt how sore his poor body was. To his amazement, he found himself staring in the face of his mother.

“Mom?” he asked groggily. “What are you doing here? Where am I?”

“Oh Howie,” his mother said with a sigh of relief. “It is so good to hear your voice.” Pollyanna, Howie’s sister, suddenly appeared next to her.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Howie said back. His smile was genuine, but she could see the tightness at the edge of his lips that said he was in pain. The three of them were silent for a moment; Mrs. Dorough rubbed her son’s hand while Pollyanna simply watched him with a mixture of relief and thankfulness painted on her face. Howie collected his thoughts.

“I was in an accident.”

“That’s right, honey,” Mrs. Dorough answered softly.

He closed his eyes trying hard to remember. He vaguely recalled hearing Brian and talking to the paramedic, but it was too hazy for him to be sure it had actually happened.

“What happened?”

As soon as the words left his lips, a doctor walked into his room.

“Why, hello there!” he said cheerily. “I am Dr. Westin. You are looking much better than you did when you came in.”

“Then I must have looked really bad then. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.” The room fell silent as his three visitors stared at him. The shock in their eyes alarmed him.

“Will somebody please tell me what happened and why I am here?” Howie said shakily.

“Of course. But first let me tell you about you and what condition you’re in.”

Howie shifted uneasily. “Ok. Shoot.”

“Well, for the most part you were extremely lucky. You did suffer a nasty concussion, which explains why you were out for a day,”

“I was out for a full day?” Howie interrupted, surprised.

“Yes you were. You arrived here about 3:30, 3:45 am, and it is now 9:00 am a day later.”

“Wow. That was some sleeping.”

“Not unusual with this kind of injury. You will probably be a little spacey for another day or so. You still need lots of rest. You also have a fractured tibia in your left arm, a few broken ribs, and a case of whiplash, which is not unexpected. You also have a fracture in your left foot, but when you’re ready to be up and about we can fit you with a walking cast. It won’t slow you down much. Other than that, just a few abrasions and bumps and bruises. They will be pretty uncomfortable for a few days, but they will heal. Be careful around your face, and the general left side of your body. That seems to be where you hit the ground. Fortunately, it seems as though you hit the grass when you were thrown out of the vehicle, so your fall wasn’t quite so hard.”

Howie’s face fell as a sudden realization smacked him cruelly in the face. Did he even dare speak it aloud? He drew in a breath, and summoned his courage.

“What happened? What happened... to the others?”

He braced himself for what he would hear. Pollyanna placed her hand on his leg to let him feel her support. At that moment, he needed all he could get.

Dr. Westin scrutinized him carefully. “Are you sure you want to hear this now? You may want to rest a bit longer and let your strength come back.”

“Do you really think I will get any rest if I don’t know?”

The doctor sighed. “You have a point.” Inhaling deeply, he reluctantly began to speak.

“From the way it appears, a trucker coming from the opposite direction dozed off at the wheel in the rain. He lost control of his vehicle and sideswiped your tour bus. You, Brian Littrell, and A.J. McLean were thrown from the vehicle.”

Howie sucked in a breath sharply, and winced when his ribs objected. “How did we manage that? The door is in the front of the bus.”

“You went through the windows of the living area. That is why your back is so sore.”

“I see,” he said quietly.

“You must have been launched out of the opposite side from your friends, because you landed directly on the grass, as I said. The other two were not quite so lucky. Brian landed on the street and skidded off into the field where you wound up. He has some nasty abrasions from that, and quite a few lacerations on his back. He must have hit the window square with it. He dislocated a shoulder, punctured one lung and the other one tried to collapse on us. He had some internal injuries, and broke his foot. We almost lost him.”

Tears filled Howie’s eyes. “Oh… God….” he choked out. When he recovered his power of speech, he continued hoarsely. “Is he going to be ok?”

“Time will tell,” Westin replied. “He was delirious when he arrived here. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him, but he was having trouble breathing and was suffering from an acute anxiety attack, which made things difficult. He is resting right now. We’ve kept him sedated. He’s regained consciousness once or twice, but each time he’s gotten out of control. Hopefully that will break soon. When it does we can try to move him out of ICU.”

“He’s looking for Nick,” Howie said softly, dimly hearing Brian’s calls echoing about in his memory. Dr. Westin looked surprised.

“Yes, each time he wakes up he calls for Mr. Carter.”

“What about the others?”

Dr. Westin bit his lip. What pathetic color Howie had had before was fading quickly. “I don’t know if I should continue. You need to rest.”

“Damn it, tell me!”

“Stay calm, Mr. Dorough. You need to relax.”

“How the hell am I supposed to relax when you won’t tell me what’s happened to my friends?” he shouted. Hot tears fell from his eyes and stung the cuts on his cheek. Mrs. Dorough flinched at her son’s outburst.

Westin frowned and sighed. He turned his attention to Howie’s family. “Do you think we might have a few minutes alone?”

Mrs. Dorough tightened her lips but nodded, and she and Pollyanna left the room. They knew what was coming, and to have to hear it again would not be easy.

“Now,” the doctor said, pulling up a chair and sitting beside Howie’s bed. “This is going to be hard for you to hear. Please promise me that if I say it’s too much we will continue this after you’ve had more rest.”

Howie blinked away the rest of his tears and nodded.

“Ok,” Westin nodded, satisfied. He glanced at his clipboard before he resumed.

“A.J. McLean was found in the road by the driver of another of your buses. He suffered burns on his arms from sliding on the pavement, and he has a particularly serious one on his knee. Walking will be painful for him until it heals. He has a severe concussion, and is still unconscious. We are hoping that he doesn’t slip into a coma. He’s very lucky he doesn’t have a more serious head injury. Brian too. Mr. McLean also has a few broken ribs. He has whiplash, and his right hand is broken in several places. He must have used it to break his fall. He is in the ICU right now, and we are watching him closely.”

Howie bit his lip, hard, and turned his head away, trying to regain his composure. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too impossible.

“Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?” Westin asked him gently.

“Just give me a minute,” Howie said, his voice barely above a whisper. After a few moments, he was able to face the doctor.

“Please continue.”

“Howie, I need to tell you, this is going to get harder.”

“I need to know,” he insisted. “What happened to Kevin and Nicky?”

Westin sighed heavily. “Kevin Richardson is in critical condition. He and Mr. Carter were both found in what was left of your sleeping area. Since there were no windows to be thrown from, they were trapped inside. The bus rolled several times,” he explained. Howie gripped the side of his bed with his good hand, forcing himself to continue hearing.

“He is in a coma. We had to take out one of his kidneys, and we had other internal damage to deal with. He’s had two operations so far, and he may need a third, if he doesn’t improve quickly. He broke his femur, and we had to insert a rod in his leg to make sure it heals properly. Right now we are worried about the degree of his head injury, which we won’t know until he regains consciousness.”

“Will he?” Howie couldn’t stop the tears now. They came unbidden, and he couldn’t push them away.

“We aren’t sure,” Westin said quietly.

“Oh my God,” Howie choked back another sob, and jammed his head back into his pillow. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. It has to be a dream, this can’t be happening…”

Dr. Westin reached his hand out to Howie, who gripped it tightly, not caring that this man was a virtual stranger. He felt so lost and alone that his soul couldn’t bear it, and he needed to know that someone else was there. Anyone. After a few moments of his quiet tears, he asked in a low voice: “What about Nick?”

Westin looked unhappy. “Nick is also in a coma. He is also in critical condition. He is breathing off of a respirator. His injuries are very serious. He had a lot of internal bleeding, and is scheduled to go back into the OR in a few hours. We had to clean up his liver, and we also had problems with his spleen. Thankfully, we didn’t have to remove it. He shattered his kneecap, so we had to replace it. He has a long battle ahead of him, and whether or not he wins is solely up to him.” Nick had other complications, but talking about them wouldn’t help anything. The damage was done.

Howie could hold it back no longer. The tears flowed freely yet again, and sobs racked his weakened body. Dr. Westin stuck his head into the hall and motioned to Howie’s family. Pollyanna rushed back into the room and wrapped her arms around her brother and held him, and he buried his head in her shoulder and wept. A nurse came in moments later with a syringe, and Howie’s cries slowly lessened as he drifted off into a drug induced sleep.

Chapter 4

Index