LOST
Can Titanium Mesh Mend a Broken Heart?

Mr. Trent burst through the front door and quickly shut it behind him, slightly out of breath. Zachary came out of his office, already in the foulest of moods.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Di Corvo. We’ve failed you,” Mr. Trent confessed.

“Failed is not the word I would have used,” Zachary fumed, noticing Xamn was not with him. “Where is the dagger?”

“I guess it must still be in the alley. I’ll have to go back later and try and find it.”

“You will do no such thing. Is Xamn still alive, then?”

“I think he might be,” Trent said, shaking with fear of whatever punishment was to come. “I hit him in the back of the head with a tire iron. I didn’t realize Scott had stolen your dagger. I swear. He said he wanted to save you the trouble. That you might appreciate it. I tried to warn him.”

“And where is eager beaver Mr. Scott?” Zachary asked snidely.

“I had to leave. The cops were coming. There was no other option.”

“So, I’m sure he’s in police custody by now. Well, the dagger is lost, Mr. Scott has most likely been arrested for attempted murder, and Xamn is still alive. Oh, how I love it when things go exactly as I planned. Yes?” Zachary said sarcastically.

“Can’t you just use magic to get the dagger?”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, here in America. Well, it’s ten-tenths of the law as far as the Laws of Immortal Magic are concerned. If you are in possession of something, even if illegally, you own it.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. So, who stopped him from killing Xamn?”

“Some guy. I don’t think he even knows Xamn. His damn dog tried to attack me, though.”

“The dog wasn’t black and brown, was he?”

“Yeah, he was. Why?”

“Hmm. Very interesting,” he said as he scratched his chin. “Could it be my old friend, Modeos?”

“Who’s that?”

“An old man like me, whose appearance now, if it was him, leads me to believe that things are coming full circle. Today was a good opportunity, but perhaps an even greater one will present itself in the near future. First things first, I have to get that dagger back. It will be dark here in a few minutes and then I’ll go. In the meantime, if you can come up with a solution as to what to do about Mr. Scott…”

“What kind of solution?” Trent asked.

“One that counters my only other option… which is to go down to the jail myself and kill him.”

Trent stared, dumbfounded, as Zachary casually exited the warehouse.

“Screw that,” he said to the bitter emptiness inside the warehouse. “I’m not going to try and save his butt. He wants to play hotshot, he’s about to get burned.”

As Zachary moved through the night with urgency, his mind ran through a smorgasbord of thoughts on what went wrong with his plan, I had a vision of how it was to happen. What could have gone wrong? Could Modeos have planted that scene in my head to fool me? To throw me off track? Surely not. Was my desire to destroy Xamn so intense that the desire itself created the vision? Was I fooled by my own lust for vengeance? Or did I just choose unwisely two inept idiots to do the job I should have done all along? Perhaps I was just shown what I needed to see and it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t what was actually going to happen. Whatever the cause for this disruption, Xamn and Modeos will meet their end one way or another. And Mr. Scott… he will have to meet his end as well.

On a Halloween night in Uptown Charlotte, there are things much stranger than a man dressed all in black, walking down the street. Still, Zachary felt eyes watching him everywhere, from every shadow.

“Why am I nervous? I am shadow! I am The Raven!” he thought as he walked with swift determination down the street toward the alley where Xamn was attacked.

“Just a few moments,” he said under his breath, rounding the corner into the dark alley, “and this minor setback will be taken care of.” He began to look around—behind trashcans, amongst heaps of discarded cardboard. After fifteen minutes of searching, he stopped and scratched his head. “Damn it! Where the hell is it?” he asked, looking underneath a dumpster. “The police must have grabbed it.”

“Did you lose something, Buddy?” a gruff voice behind him asked.

Zachary turned around to see two cops approaching him from the street. One looked young enough to be in high school. The other was older and rounder. “Yes. My wallet, actually,” he lied, quite convincingly.

“When did you lose it?” the older, rounder one asked, and cocked a suspicious eyebrow.

“Earlier today. I was walking home from work and took a shortcut. I had just bought a soda from the drugstore. I put my wallet in the inside pocket of my jacket and then found out, when I got home, there’s a hole in it,” Zachary threw up his arms and shrugged his shoulders, playing the dimwit. He was amazed with himself and his ability to lie with such conviction and believability.

“Well, being tonight’s Halloween, there’s no doubt in my mind that if you dropped it more than an hour ago, any money that was in there is already spent. It’s not worth risking your life coming back here at night. I suggest you go home and call your bank and whoever else. Report your credit cards stolen… whatever. All right?”

“You’re right, Officer. Thank you.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The officers turned around to head back to the street when the rookie stopped as he came to a realization, “Hey…”

The other one hadn’t stopped yet, so the young police officer ran over to him. “Lewis!”

Lewis turned, “What’s eating at you, Stowell?”

“Should we ask him if he saw anything strange here when he came through? This is where that assault happened this afternoon.”

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” Lewis said nonchalantly, knowing they should question the man, but not fond of being shown up by a rookie. They turned back and approached Zachary, who hadn’t yet given up his search, “Excuse me, sir,” Lewis said, arrogantly.

Zachary looked up, knowing an interrogation was coming, “I’m sorry, officers. I’ll be on my way. I was just getting in one last look for my wallet.”

It was almost midnight and Alex, who had just gotten off the phone with a police detective, sat with Stew’s mother, Carolyn, in the Surgery Family Support Center, both of them doing their best to keep their minds occupied while they waited for news on Stew.

“I apologize if I seemed short or rude or anything when I called you earlier. That wasn’t a call I’ve ever had to make before.”

“It’s not a call I’ve ever received before and it’s not a call any parent ever wants to get, but you don’t have to be sorry,” Carolyn told Alex, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, as James, Stew’s father, came back from the vending machines with two bags of chips and two soft drinks. “We’re just praying he pulls through,” Carolyn continued.

“Any news from the doctor?” James asked as he handed out sodas. He had always been the stoic one. In all their family’s ups and downs, he was the anchor. Carolyn Kasey was the heart of the family, but James always managed to keep them grounded.

“No, not yet,” Alex replied, wiping her wet cheeks.

“Well, thank you again for making such an effort to get ahold of us, Alex,” she said warmly. “What did the detective say?”

“Oh, she said they have someone in custody,” Alex said, her voice still shaking slightly from crying. “They’re still looking for the second person.”

“Good. Keep your phone handy. They’ll probably need you to identify him. The whole lineup thing.” Carolyn sighed and then put her hands on Alex’s shoulders, “Thank you, Alex. Thank you for being my son’s guardian angel.”

“I really didn’t do much, Mrs. Kasey. I—”

“But you did, dear.” Carolyn pulled Alex close and hugged her tight. “You did.”

Alex hesitated but, after a moment, closed her arms around Carolyn’s back and hugged her. She imagined what it was like to have a mother that cared this much. She tried hard to keep the tears from flowing again but failed miserably.

Carolyn released her from the embrace to look her in the face, “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” She paused as she dried her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, “…I wish I had a family like yours. That’s all.”

“Well, you do now. If you’re ever in Salisbury, you come by and visit. Okay?”

Alex nodded a silent reply. Carolyn then turned to her husband, “Honey, can you go ask that nurse if we can go back yet? Oh wait… is this the doctor?”

A woman dressed in business casual attire and a white lab coat came through the doors, “Mr. and Mrs. Kasey? My name is Dr. Kaufman. You can come see your son now.”

“Thank you,” Carolyn replied and then turned to Alex, “You don’t have to stay, dear. We’re…”

“No, I’d like to… if that’s okay,” Alex said earnestly.

“Certainly. Why don’t you find something to eat, though?” Carolyn insisted, taking Alex’s hand and putting some money into it, like a mother would, then giving her a hug. “Go. Eat.”

“Okay, but call me if anything changes. I’ll be back in awhile.” With that, Alex left to go hunt down dinner.

“Stew’s never mentioned an Alex before,” James whispered to his wife as they followed the doctor through the door to Post-Op Recovery.

“That’s because she was a stranger who just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” she returned, trying hard not to sound like a smart-aleck.

“What do you think about this Wiz character, though? The way Alex explained it, he sounds a little suspicious,” he continued.

“Here he is,” the doctor said as she led them to the door of their son’s room. “The surgery went fine. His vitals are stabilizing. I’m not sure how much you were told about his injuries,” the Dr. Kaufman inquired.

“Not much. He was hit in the back of the head. Not much blood loss. That’s about all we know,” James replied, knowing his wife might not be able to get the words out.

“Well, the small amount of blood loss is extremely good. He’s very lucky. The blow was to the occipital lobe… right back here,” the doctor said, pointing to the base of the skull in the back, using her own head as a model. “He had, roughly, a two inch piece of skull that was shattered.”

Carolyn winced and buried her face in her husbands shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I know this is difficult to hear. I can give you a moment if you need,” the Dr. Kaufman said, empathetically.

She regained her composure and turned to face the doctor once again, “I’m okay. Go ahead, Doctor.”

“We were able to repair the skull with a titanium mesh. However, the occipital lobe itself suffered some trauma that, I’m afraid, is irreparable. Now, we won’t know what kind of effects that will have. We can have a neurologist talk with you in the morning, if you like,” the doctor said as she looked at the nurse’s station. “I believe we’re getting ready to move him to ICU. It’ll be a few minutes. You can go ahead and sit with him in the meantime. Do you have any questions?”

Carolyn forced herself to remain strong. “How long will he be unconscious?”

“I’m afraid that is entirely up to your son to decide. It could be days. It could be weeks. Perhaps, even longer.”

All the strength she had gathered was now gone. She couldn’t speak—her hands over her mouth and tears welling in her eyes as she entered the room where her son lay motionless.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Kaufman reiterated. “Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

“No, not right now, Doctor. Thank you,” James said somberly.

“Well, I’m optimistic. You should be, too. Just let me or one of the nurses know if you have any questions.” With nothing more to say, Dr. Kaufman pursed her lips and nodded her head, and then walked over to the nurses station.

“Honey, what if he doesn’t make it?” Carolyn asked, her voice shaking.

“Sweetheart, you have to stay positive. For Stewart. We have to have faith that he will pull through. If things take a turn for the worse, well, we’ll just have to have that much more faith. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, although it was nearly unintelligible through her sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and hoped it was enough to hold together the pieces of her broken heart.

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