CHAPTER 1
Used Up, But Still Breathing
Edward Brighton was a retired neurosurgeon. The Ohio Health Riverside Hospital had let him go at age 64. That was two years ago. More accurately he was forced out. He lived alone in his home in Urbana, Ohio, 20 miles from the hospital. Evelyn, his wife of 36 years, had died three years ago of liver cancer. They had no children but their son, Wesley.
This evening was quiet. Ed stayed up longer than usual in hopes he would sleep better when he eventually went to bed. The boredom and emptiness of his existence wore on him. The hospital had been his life, and with no other involvement, he struggled to find anything meaningful. He had reached the place where he didn't want to be with people, which was what he needed most. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he suffered from depression.
At a quarter till two in the morning Ed awoke. He lay there unable to sleep; events from the past four years raced through his mind along with unanswerable questions. His wife's side of the bed was empty, and it still plagued him. His son whom he had worshipped was gone.
Even though he wanted to continue at Ohio Health Riverside, the board had insisted he leave the group and "enjoy life." He had "earned it," they told him. He had never felt so alone and worthless.
In an effort to return to sleep, he rolled over repositioning himself in the huge bed. Sleep wouldn't come.
He was about to get up when he heard downstairs a crack or a pop. He couldn't decide which. He tried to imagine what it might have been. Nothing made sense. Unable to sleep, he determined to go down and look around. Then he heard a bump that sounded like something striking a piece of furniture or colliding with a wall. At that he sat straight up in bed. Someone was down there.
The evening before he had left his safe in the bottom drawer of the desk unlocked. The safe held $27,000 in cash as well as a few pieces of Evelyn's jewelry. That added to his deepening concern.
Adrenalin surged. Wide awake, barefoot, and in his pajamas he quietly stepped to the dresser across the darkened room. Reaching into the top drawer and feeling around his hand found the barrel of his gun. Gripping its handle in his right hand, he carefully and silently moved out his door and down the hall. More muffled sounds were coming up the stairs. The stairs of his older home had a history of squeaky treads which worried him. To prevent the noise, he stayed to the far left of each tread, hoping to avoid discovery.
It worked. Within two minutes he stood at the door of his library watching a shadowy figure rummaging through his desk.
A man with an LED penlight, emitting a bluish color, methodically searched through each drawer. Following one more drawer, the man would find the unlocked safe.
Ed continued, closing the distance between the doorframe and the intruder. He pulled the hammer back on his Smith & Wesson .357. The sound was so piercing it startled him as well as the intruder.
Tensions peaked; the man turned to Ed, shining the intense light into his eyes. The moment of decision was now. Ed, not able to see clearly, held off firing hoping this moment wouldn't come. For fear he could wait no longer, he began to squeeze the trigger.
The ensuing shot's resonance was like a bomb in the otherwise silent house. The flash of the muzzle was bright, enough so that he saw the assailant's face for a millisecond. Once more darkness swallowed the room, followed by the crash of an overturning chair as the intruder tumbled to the floor. Out of the shadows came the sound of soft moaning and an occasional childlike whimper.
Ed struggled to adjust to the frightening reality of what he had just done. He had no idea if the man was armed. Still blinded by the flash, he reached back toward the wall searching for the switch to the ceiling light. With his gun re-cocked and pointed into the darkness, he turned on the light.
At first he didn't see the man who had fallen to the floor just beyond the desk. Six feet or so to the right rested a small handgun.
Convinced the burglar was disarmed, he quickly stepped forward. He laid his own gun on the desk, far enough away that it was out of reach.
He could see clearly now. It was a young man. He was folded up on his right side, writhing in pain. He looked seriously injured from the gunshot. A tremendous amount of blood oozed onto the carpet from between the man's fingers.
Ed was overcome with terror. He had been badly startled by this stranger, but even more startled by what he had just done.
Trembling, Ed bent over the man. His facial features surprised Ed. They were similar enough he could have passed for a twin of his deceased son, Wesley, right down to the Romanesque nose. His hair as well was the same in length and black and shiny as anthracite coal. Around his neck he wore a heavy chain connected to a gold medallion about the size of a half dollar. Ed imagined him to be a street gang member from the tattered, ill-fitting clothing he wore.
Ed stood, finding himself growing faint. He reached for the corner of the cherry desk to stabilize himself. Following several seconds, he emerged from his stupor and realized he must call for an ambulance and get this man to the hospital.
Picking up the intruder's gun, he placed it on the desk near his own. Reaching for the phone he dialed 911.
"911, what is your emergency?" a woman's voice asked.
He seemed not to know how to begin.
Stuttering for a moment he replied, "A man's been shot at 713 Bon Air Drive. We need an ambulance.
"Are you in Urbana?" she questioned.
"Yes, that's right," Ed answered.
After a pause the voice continued, "An ambulance has been dispatched. Can you provide me any additional details such as the victim's condition?"
"Give me a moment," Ed replied. He knelt to examine the man's wound and condition. "Pulse is 160. Breathing is rapid." In more detail he added, "The bullet entered the right abdomen, likely damaging the kidney or liver, and perhaps the right renal artery."
"Without moving him, I can't be sure, but I believe it exited the back. Bleeding is profuse, but I've staunched it somewhat. His pulse is far too high. He is semi-conscious and likely to go into shock."
"The ambulance left about two minutes ago from Springfield, sir. It should arrive within five minutes. Can you stay on the line with me and explain what happened?"
By that time the Urbana police were responding. Their shrill sirens could be heard off in the quiet night air. It sounded like two or more cars.
"Yes," replied Ed. "I heard a noise downstairs. Taking my gun, I went down to find the man with a penlight rummaging through my desk. He turned toward me. I couldn't see because of his light and in panic I fired once. There may be more I can recall later, but I believe that covers the basics of what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, that's helpful. I believe I hear sirens in the background. Am I correct?" she asked.
"Yes, that's right," he replied.
"Sir, will you stay on...