Missing You...

Chapter Eighteen

Monday, 8th December 1980

Paul was only unconscious for a minute or two. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the sudden light of the city nightlife. There's was a large crowd of people gathered around him. They were talking very loudly and at such a rapid speed that he couldn't understand what they were saying. Paul winced as he tried to sit up.

"Here, Mr McCartney," a soft female voice crooned. Paul felt someone taking his hand and gently pulling him upright. He found himself staring at a young woman, only about twenty years of age, and she was very pretty. She was smiling kindly at Paul, her bright green eyes glittering. She gave his trembling hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What's going on?" Paul mumbled, still in a daze.

"We're just taking you and Mr Lennon to the hospital for some tests," the young lady explained. "You took quite a tumble and we just want to make sure you're all right."

"Hospital?" Paul repeated, blinking stupidly. "I can't go to hospital. I have a plane to catch. John was about to see me off."

Paul suddenly remembered what had happened a few minutes ago. He heard the sound of John's voice whispering goodbye in his ear. Paul saw John waving as he stepped into the taxi. He heard someone shouting John's name. He heard the dreadful sound of shots being fired. He heard the pained scream and the thud of John falling to the ground.

He remembered the awful silence.

"John?" he whispered, tears pouring down his face.

"It's all right, darling," said a much older woman, bustling over and kneeling down beside him. She was wearing her glasses in her long grey hair like an Alice band. "Just hop in the ambulance with us and everything will be perfectly fine. I daresay you'll be back home by tomorrow morning."

"I don't want to go home," Paul cried. "I want John."

"He's still in shock," the grey-haired woman muttered to the younger lady. "Help him into the ambulance and I'll help Simon tend to Mr Lennon."

"All right, Miriam," the young lady replied. She turned to Paul. "Come on then, sir."

Paul didn't know what to do. He didn't have any real choice, not in his condition. He let himself be led into the back seat of an ambulance by the young green-eyed lady. He was seated on a little bench along the inside of the vehicle. There wasn't much legroom so Paul had to hunch himself up into a ball, his arms hugging his knees. He felt the young lady drape a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and wrapping him up like a little baby in a shawl. Paul felt like a baby. He wanted to be a baby, so he could cry and be held by warm, loving arms. He let out a small, pained sob. 

"Johnny," he wept. "Where are you when I need you?"

Paul suddenly glanced up at the gaggle of paramedics that were gathered along the opposite side of the ambulance. They were swarming over something on a operating table. Paul couldn't see what it was because of the heaving crowd of doctors, and it was also concealed by a large white sheet. 

Well, partly concealed. There was something dangling over the side of the table. Paul could see it quite clearly despite the dim lighting. It was John's right hand, pendulous and fully exposed, clenched tightly into a fist. Paul gazed longingly at it, thinking about how warm and inviting it looked. He shook his own hand free from his blanket and quietly slipped it into John's. It was a bit of a struggle prising John's fingers apart but Paul managed it in the end. He gripped his friend's hand for the entirety of the frantic, bumpy journey. 

Paul nearly cried when the paramedics shifted John's limp, lifeless body out of the ambulance and onto a gurney. He watched as John was rushed across the loading bay and into the emergency room. He could see John's hand was still hanging over the side of the gurney, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. For reasons he couldn't explain, Paul thought he saw John's hand suddenly shoot outwards and give him a cheery wave just before he disappeared inside the hospital.

"I must be seeing things," Paul muttered, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't help hoping that John had really waved at him and he wasn't actually dead, but that seemed a bit extreme - even for John. 

Paul stayed sitting on the bench in the ambulance, hands resting in his lap. No one had came back to collect him, not even the lovely young lady with green eyes. He felt so lonely and dejected. A small tear trickled down his cheek, swiftly followed by another. Soon he was crying, his shoulders heaving and shaking as he sobbed. He bent over until his head was practically between his knees. Droplets of grief and heartbreak fell to the ground and formed tiny pools at Paul's feet. 

He couldn't believe what was happening.

It was all too real.

"Oh, John," Paul whispered, burying his tear-stained face in his hands. "Why did you have to go now? I only just got to know you again, so please don't disappear again. Just let me know everything is going to be okay!"

Then, as if right on cue, something caught Paul's eye. There was a small scrap of paper lying on the floor near where John had been lying on the operating table. Paul remembered John's fist had been clenched on the drive to the hospital, and he'd been fiddling around in his coat pocket before...

Before...

Before...

Paul couldn't bring himself to think about it now. He knew that the piece of paper sitting on the ambulance floor was meant for him. John had known something bad was going to happen and this was his encouragement specially for Paul. That's what Paul was hoping for anyway. It could have been a loose shopping receipt or an unpaid parking fine for all he knew. Nevertheless Paul reached out and snatched up the scrap, and what he found scribbled on it was most extraordinary.

The paper was folded in half like a card, and Paul's name was printed on the front in bright blue ink. Under it was a small cartoon drawing of two people holding hands - one person beaming at his companion, with big square specs on his face, the other smiling with shaggy hair and a stubbly chin. Paul chuckled at the doodle and proceeded to open the card.

He nearly burst into fresh floods when he read John's message...