Asa

 

It seemed to me that the least that you could expect from your body when you had been shot multiple times was to lose consciousness. That would certainly be the decent thing, because, if you retained consciousness, there was a great deal of pain, fear, and confusion which you really didn’t want to deal with.

 

I was certainly conscious enough to know that the fight continued around me, and conscious enough to know that, as long as that was the case, no one was taking me out of here. With every moment that passed, my survival became less likely, and I began to feel that I could actually sense my life flowing from my body, minute by minute. I was also conscious enough to recognize the figure who bent down over me as the shooting continued. I'd rather have been rescued by Porter Crucero, someone who I had helped back in the day. Being saved by Brian Dugas... well, maybe he owed me one for going through with this plan and saving his daughter, but I would have done that anyway, so it didn't really count.

 

"This is probably going hurt," I think I heard him say. They were wasted words, really. I had lost all touch with my body. Either nothing hurt, or everything hurt, and I could no longer tell which was which. Dugas somehow managed to pick me up and half-carry, half-drag me through the warehouse.

 

"Did Corinne get out?" I don't know how I found the strength to speak, or maybe I didn't, and it was all in my head, as Dugas didn't answer.

 

I may have blacked out there for a bit, but I found myself drifting through consciousness again as I was put into an ambulance. Dugas was once again hovering above me.

 

"Tell her I love her."

 

This time he answered. "She knows, son. And she loves you too."

 

My last thought, as I once again slipped from lucidity, was that I had just had a 'moment' with Sheriff Brian Dugas. The day-to-day experiences of my life had changed in many ways since meeting Corinne.

 

I couldn't call what happened next 'memories,' because, although the events certainly happened, I'm not sure if I remember them, or if I'm imagining it based on what people told. Me later. We arrived at the hospital, and I was rushed into emergency surgery like a hero. They gave me blood transfusions to try and restore my lost reserves. The anesthetist came in and looked gravely down at me, for what seemed like a very long while, before putting a mask over my face. He may have asked me to count down backwards from a hundred, which I seriously doubt I was able to do.

 

From that point, the dark, ugly periods of unconsciousness seemed to become a whole lot pinker and fluffier. I'd only been under anesthesia once before, and I remembered it as being a pretty relaxing experience, but I was vaguely aware that this time I might not come out again. What then? The pink and fluffy clouds just went on forever? Fortunately, such deep questions ceased to matter as the anesthesia took hold.

 

There was Corinne. Seated in a tree, like the first time I saw her. Perhaps this was the first time I saw her. We went on our first bike ride together, with her holding me so tightly. I felt her eyes on me as I fought outside Fiona's bar, and then felt her hands on me as she bandaged up the knife wound. I saw the first time we kissed and felt that precious rush of sensation. I saw the first time we made love and felt, again, the guilt afterwards, discovering that she had been a virgin. Yet, the guilt was tempered by desire to go further with this wonderful girl. I recalled the night by the waterfall, which was the last time when everything had really seemed right with the world. I watched the aftermath, the chases, the motels, and the lengthy lovemaking. What I watched, it occurred to me, as it had before, was a catalogue of bad decisions and mistakes made by two people who were in every way not meant to be together, except for the fact that we were perfect for each other. You couldn't fight against that. Sooner or later, love would force good intentions back into the natural pattern of things. Though life had done everything it could to distance us from each other, Corinne Dugas and Asa Covert would always wind up together. That was the way of things.

 

I wondered at how much time I had spent pushing her back towards her dad. That had not been wholly wrong, but I should have been going with her. My mistake had been in thinking that she had to choose, when there was no reason we couldn't both be happy. If I got out of this, then that was what was going to happen. One big, happy family.

 

Even as I thought it, vaguely at the edge of my consciousness, I heard the flat-line and the voices of the doctors, grave and hopeless, pronouncing me. The pink fluffiness began to fade.

 

The hell with that. I had finally managed to realize how life with Corinne could work. If that wasn't enough to keep me alive, then I couldn't imagine anything that might be. I had spent my whole damn life fighting for one thing or another, and I wasn't about to stop now.

 

Of course, all of this might just have been the product of dreams and anesthesia-induced hallucinations. But that was how it struck me looking back on it, and the fact that I could look back on it was the main thing.

 

# # #

 

The next thing I remembered was a woman's voice whispering to me, beckoning me back to wakefulness and to the land of the living. It was a voice that I'd crawl over broken glass to follow.

 

"Corinne..." My mouth felt like I hadn't had a drink for a month.

 

"Asa! You're awake!"

 

"Am I? Oh good."

 

"I'll get someone."

 

I managed to open my eyes, but the world was bright, blurry, painful, and didn't make a whole lot of sense. "Who?"

 

"I don't know, a doctor, or someone."

 

"Am I ill?"

 

"You were shot."

 

"I feel like I'm over it."

 

"I'd better get someone."

 

"Okay, you do that," I agreed. "I might grab some sleep. I'm pretty tired." These few seconds awake seemed to have exhausted me. I couldn't keep my eyes open, and my words were slurring more and more.

 

"Okay, you do that."

 

"I love you." Was that the first time that I had said that to her? It couldn't be, could it? I'd meant it for long enough. But, thinking back over things, I found that, yes, because of my antipathy for actually saying the word, that was the first time I had said it to her. I had even told her Dad before her. How irritating that this important first should be now, when she was likely to write it off as the effects of the anesthesia on my dopey mind.

 

There was a long pause. Although my eyes were now closed, and I was sliding back into sleep, I could imagine the look of surprise on Corinne's pretty face.

 

"I love you too, Asa," I heard her say. Then, as I really began to sink back into unconsciousness, I was sure I heard her add something else.

 

I might have been wrong Things were still very confused, and I was pretty addled at that point, but it sounded as if she had told me that I was going to be a father.

 

That was something to deal with when I woke up.