Chapter
7 – The
Fallen Heroes
Howie
stayed with Brian until he was asleep again. He had actually begun to doze off
himself. His eyelids felt like lead. A nurse came in to check on them, and
found him almost asleep. She touched his arm and told him she was going to take
him to his new room with A.J. Howie nodded sleepily, and gently tried to pry
his hand away from Brian’s grasp. Once that was done, he was wheeled out. He
was asleep before he even reached his room. With some help, he was moved from
the wheelchair to his new bed, in a double with A.J. He did not stir until an
hour later, when A.J. woke up again.
A.J.
lay there for several minutes, assessing his situation. “Howie? Are you there?”
His
voice sounded raspy and confused. All he really remembered from before was that
something had been terribly wrong, but Howie had been there with him, so it was
all right. He was tired and he hurt all over, but he felt safe. Cautiously he
turned his head to the side and saw his friend sleeping nearby. He was
instantly concerned about all of the cuts and bruises, and the cast on his arm.
Taking no real notice of his own injuries, he tried to get up to go see what
was the matter with him. He winced in surprise when his side felt like it was
suddenly lit by a torch.
“What
the…” he looked in surprise at the tubes coming out of his arms and the cast
around his lower arm. His torso was incredibly stiff.
“What
the hell?” he said aloud. His voice surprised him. He almost couldn’t
use it.
A nurse
poked her head in. “Welcome back,” she said with a smile. “Why on earth are you
sitting up? You need to be laying down Mr. McLean.”
“What
happened to my friend over there? Is he all right? He looks terrible!” A.J.
coughed painfully. Howie stirred in his bed, and opened his eyes.
“I look
better than you do, if I do say so myself,” he replied with a tired smile.
“I
can’t even get up,” A.J. said in wonder, easing back against the pillows. The
nurse fiddled with his IVs, and adjusted his pain medication. “I’ll have the
doctor come in to see you right away to answer your questions.”
“Can it
be later? I’m exhausted. Shit!” She nodded and left the room.
“I’m
not surprised, with that stunt you pulled earlier,” Howie said dryly.
“Earlier?”
“Why do
you think I’m so tired? I was trying to keep you from jumping out of your
skin.”
“I
don’t understand, I can’t even move,” he said sleepily.
“You
sure could earlier.”
“Right,”
he mumbled, drifting off again.
“I’m
glad you are doing better,” Howie said in a small voice. “I was so scared…”
The
tremble A.J. heard in Howie’s voice brought back the dim memory of his fear.
His eyes opened wide again. “I was scared too…” he said, his voice barely a
whisper. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but the traces of that fear
that had permeated him so completely were there. Howie noticed the sudden
change in his voice, and attempted to sit up.
“You
ok?”
A.J.
exhaled shakily, and turned his head to face Howie. “Something really bad
happened to us, didn’t it?”
Howie
nodded tearfully. “Yeah. Something bad happened.”
“Where
are the others?”
Howie
couldn’t answer. All he could do was cry. Being the strong one was all of the
sudden too much for him, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was usually
Kevin’s job anyway. He didn’t want it. He hated himself for that thought, but
there was nothing he could do.
A.J.
lay back again, his eyes wet. He chose Brian’s course of action, and pushed
away reality for a little while longer, not quite willing to accept it. He
waited for sleep to take him.
* * *
“No,
Mr. Dorough is not able to answer any questions,” a hospital rep repeated for
the hundredth time.
The
world had been screaming for answers, and the hospital finally agreed to a
quick press conference, with hospital reps only, once permission was obtained
from family members.
“I
thought you said he was awake!” someone shouted.
“Howie
Dorough is fully conscious and is aware of what has happened. Although his
injuries were not quite as severe as some of the others, he has been through a
great shock these past few days. The only visitors he’s been able to receive
are his family members. He is not strong enough for anything more than that.
This has been a very difficult three days.”
“What
is the status of the others?” another member of the press yelled over the buzz
of the crowd.
“The
Carters and the Richardsons have asked that I not release any details about
their sons’ condition,” he started, trying to ignore the angry mutterings of
the crowd. “All I can say is that they are both still in critical. We are
hoping from the best.”
“Will
they be able to perform again?”
“I
hardly think that is a question that should be addressed at this time. Next
question?”
“What
about Brian Littrell and A.J. McLean?”
“Mr.
McLean and Mr. Littrell have both been drifting in and out of consciousness.
Neither has been awake for any significant amount of time. As of right now,
their physical prognosis is looking pretty good. Brian has been told what has
happened, A.J. has not.”
“When
will we be able to talk to Brian?”
“Not
any time soon. He’s had an extremely rough time of it.”
“Why
hasn’t A.J. been told about what happened?”
“We had
some difficulties with him when he woke up…”
“What
kind of difficulties?” someone interrupted.
“I’m
not at liberty to say. But we are being very careful with him. We want to make
this as easy on these young men as possible.”
“When
will we be able to speak with any of the Backstreet Boys themselves?”
“That
all depends on them and their doctors. We have not mentioned anything to any of
them about the public since their admittance here, and I doubt it has crossed any
of their minds. Dr. Westin, who is overseeing their care, has promised that at
the appropriate time he will hold another press conference to give more of the
answers you are looking for. That is all I can say for now.”
The mob
of people began shouting in protest, but the spokesman quickly left the stage.
He
marveled at the crowd that had gathered all around the building. Security had
forced everyone well away from the emergency doors and all of the other
entryways, but there were still people everywhere. Most of them were young
girls, but he saw people of all ages. Some of them were standing, some of them
were sitting, and many of them held lit candles and photos of the Backstreet
Boys. Their music could be heard everywhere. Some people were crying and
hugging, and other had joined hands to pray. Although the rep was annoyed at
the vultures that demanded information and a terrible invasion of privacy, he
couldn’t help but be touched by the love that he could feel everywhere. He’d
never seen this kind of tragedy bringing out devotion of this magnitude. There
were signs with Bible quotes, and people praying. Not even just for the Boys,
but for each other. And it wasn’t just here, he had found out. Similar displays
were being reported all over the country, and even the world. It was amazing.
These men had touched the lives of countless people, and there was no way any
of these fans were going to let their heroes down.