The Spoken Truth

Chapter Eighteen: Life or Death

            I knew that Clyde would suck it up and push through, but I was worried he couldn’t. I sat down next to him, as he laid on the floor. I looked at his face; it was going pale. I looked at his arm; the material the Derrick put on was now stained red. He was losing blood. Derrick got up and unwrapped the blood-soaked material and got another out of his bag.

            “Clyde,” I said in tears still. “It’s gonna be alright.”

            He didn’t answer. He didn’t move.

            “Derrick…” I choked. I was balling now. I tried to lift Clyde and move him to the wall, but he was way too heavy and I was way too weak. So Derrick came and lifted him half way off the ground with ease and moved him toward the wall. I stood up and watched as Derrick aided Clyde. I didn’t take every long.

            “Let’s just leave him here,” Derrick decided.

            “We can’t just go!”

            “No, leave…” Clyde was awake now. “I’ll be fine.”

            Derrick started toward the door. I reached out and grabbed his arm.

            “No, you can’t just leave him like this,” my tears still rapids. “I’ll stay,” I came to decision. If anyone should stay with him it was I. I messed up enough today. Derrick didn’t leave.

            “Well, go on,” I spoke.

            “No, I need you…I can’t go alone.”

            “That’s enough arguing. I can’t take it,” Clyde said through his pain. “Marcie, go now. Derrick needs your presence. Trust me he can’t do it alone.”

            I held Clyde’s head up and kissed his lips. I walked toward Derrick controlling my tears. I looked back at Clyde’s blood puddle and his pale face falling down to the floor. I faced Derrick’s back and followed it.

            In the door was the storage room. The closet was just like any other closet, filled with brooms, mops and cleaner. Derrick stepped inside and looked up and then down. He stared back at me and said, “This is it. Go back to Clyde and, if he is still conscious, ask him where the bomb is.”

            “OK,” I replied and went to Clyde.

            “Hey hon, do you know where the bomb is? We found the storage room.”

            He didn’t reply. I lifted his head to see his closed eyes and pale skin. I dug my head in his chest to see if there was a heartbeat. I heard a soft thump thump over and over, but it was dieing down very slowly. We needed to get him to the hospital fast. Derrick and I didn’t have time to do both together, but separate we could pull it off. I let go of Clyde’s head and ran to Derrick, holding in my tears I said, “OK, so…I don’t have the strength to get Clyde to the hospital, but I could—if you tell me what to do—plant the bomb.”

            “Fine, I’m trusting you with everything here. You understand?”

            “Yes, lay it on me…just keep him alive.”

            “OK, there it is…now listen. There is a bomb in a metal suitcase in Clyde’s bag—I’m gonna leave it here with you. Once you get it, unbuckle the latches and, here’s a rock write this code on the ground,” I knelt to the dusty ground and wrote Derrick’s code. “134-526-7889. Got it?”