Shop Forum More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Hobbyist A home of cast storiesMale/Unknown Group :iconcastgirls: Castgirls
 
Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 394 Deviations 4,697 Comments 250,030 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 5
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 5
Friday the 13th, 9:02 a.m.
‘I can’t tell you too much about how the shelter was attacked since most of the information is classified. However, I could hear this and that. Allegedly, it was a failed weapon test. The Air Force had an experimental drone, which was armed with special bunker-buster missiles. But it got out of their control and attacked the shelter. The drone launched a rocket, which penetrated the rocks, then it went through the concrete shields, as well, destroying four floors above you. The Sublevel Five, where your room was, collapsed.'
‘When the walls fell down, I couldn’t imagine what could blow up such a safe place. An earthquake? Or a war?’ Julie said, looking back on the events.
‘You were stuck under the debris, and this was how your arm was broken,’ Mike went on telling the story. ‘Maybe, you could get away with that injury, but when the rescue team got there to free you, a se
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 0 0
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 14
Mia and the Mafia, Part 14
‘Please, come in. Ms Marshall is ready to meet you.’
The assistant opened the door wide to let the guest in. Although the visitor was prepared for finding Mia in big casts, yet, her feet rooted to the floor, and she expressed a muffled ‘Holy Cow!’, seeing that the miserable occupant of the room was wrapped in such an enormous and thick shell, which filled up each bit of the cushioned seat of the reinforced wheelchair.
Although Mia had been exposed just for a short time to the malicious mistreatment, which Dr Vaughn had secretly done to her helpless patient, the cruel care had left its severe and lasting marks on her health state. The conditions had turned from ‘bad’ into ‘worse’, and the recent casts embracing Mia’s body were much more extensive than the first ones she had received when she had been checked to hospital. The wheelchairbound female’s figure was entirely moulded around in an overlapping
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 4 12
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 13
Mia and the Mafia, Part 13
‘I’m terribly sorry for everything that happened to you, Ms Marshall. It all was my fault.’
Not only the words of the head of the Organised Crime Unite were sad, but also he looked miserable, indeed. Apologising, Mr Bollinger virtually kneeled down by the bed cradling the heavily casted patient to beg her pardon. Replying to his tear-jerking mea culpa, Mia could moan some incomprehensible voices to accept (or to reject?) the belated expression of regret.
‘I underestimated the gangster’s will and competence. If I had known that the Mafia is still hunting for you, I would have sent bodyguards to protect you,’ he went on listing the errors he had made.
Hearing that the OCU Director blamed the Mob for putting her into these big casts, Mia tried to whisper despairingly the name, which all the attackers shared: Joanna Vaughn:
‘Whowhawha whauwh.’
Mia fought hard, yet she was able to press a series of unclear speech sou
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 6 40
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 12
Mia and the Mafia, Part 12
‘It’s an honour for me to meet the bravest female of this country,’ Mr Bollinger said.
As soon as the head of the Organised Crime Unit entered the hospital room, he walked fast to greet Mia, whose wheelchair had just rolled away from the bed.
‘You shouldn’t say such a huge exaggeration about me, Sir,’ Mia replied humbly, however, she liked being praised.
‘An exaggeration? You cannot say that, Ms Marshall!’ Mr Bollinger protested. ‘Except for you, there was nobody else, who could survive the feared Section B for such a long time without making a deal with the Mafia! Oh, can you name anyone who has spent two years in a full body cast, defying the evil forces of the Mob, and all those bastards working for them? And, after that, you had to risk your life and undertake such a huge sacrifice to be free and to help us to defeat the organised crime. Miss Marshall, you haven’t got any reason to be modest. You
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 5 13
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 11
Mia and the Mafia, Part 11
The darkness cowardly departed after a friendly beam of light poured into the room, which was a medical chamber and a prison cell at the same time. Due to her hard-and-fast pose, Mia couldn’t see the person who entered and turned the lamps on. But she knew that the visitor wasn’t Dr Byrd, as she didn’t hear his familiar, hurrying footsteps. Instead of a single shadow, the light of the lamps drew two grey shapes on Mia’s cast-tied figure. The noises they made revealed a lot about the nature of the visitors.
Curiously, Mia listened to the silent buzz of the electric wheelchair, and the slow steps of the one, who escorted the disabled companion. Though the helmet cast perfectly kept Mia’s head straight, soon she could see the guests as they crossed the border of her stiffened field of view.
The wheelchairbound visitor was Cynthia. Being blind, burnt and limbless, the girl settled in the well-padded seat, held by a wide safety belt,
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 6 9
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 10
Mia and the Mafia, Part 10
The Mafia’s recent method of punishment wasn’t as fatal as a car bomb exploding under your seat, or a sharp knife stabbed in your back, or a copper bullet shot in your head. Yet it was a rather confining feeling, making you absolutely helpless, exposed to their whim.
Sealed in casts, Mia had a lot of time to kill. She recalled the first occasion when she had met Georgia and what the attorney had told her. Georgia had promised that Mia would be in a nice and quiet place if she would help her. Indeed, the place, where Mia was put in cast and under lock, fulfilled the vague description. Probably, the deputy district attorney had talked about the woodland around the St Helen’s Nursing Home, which was exceptionally wonderful and the scenery was astounding.
However, Mia couldn’t take a look at the sky-high evergreens guarding the estate, because Mia’s residence, the Section B was a windowless chamber in the basement below a secluded bu
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 0
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 9
Mia and the Mafia, Part 9
After coming back from Annabelle’s hospital room, the nurses helped Mia to get out of the wheelchair. Held tightly by them, yet standing unsteadily on the tiny walking heels of the confining long leg casts, Mia took two short steps toward the bed. The caregivers assisted her to sit down, then they tenderly adjusted her casted legs, which started to rest on cushions, while the bandaged arms got back in their sling prisons.
Even the short wheelchair-ride to the neighbouring room drained Mia’s batteries. Not to mention the not-too-hopeful conversation with the shattered cop. Thinking of it, Mia let the bed sink her body. Now, fully depending on assistance because of her four casts, she tried to get through this dark time.
The two health workers left the room. Mia remained there, lying on her bed and peering blankly at the ceiling. Her roommates, the four full-body-casted Joanna Vaughns weren’t talkative persons. Understandably, since it could be
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 14
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 8
Mia and the Mafia, Part 8
Wordlessly, Dr Volkoff turned the pages of the second volume of the medical file to study the collection of the X-Ray and CT images taken on Mia’s injuries. After reading the summary, he asked his question with such a knowing cadence to sign that he would discredit whatever the patient would lie to him.
‘Oh, Ms Marshall, an accident again?’
‘You can’t imagine how dangerous a wheelchair could be.’
Really, Mia was economical with the truth. It was no point in pressing charges against Carlo the Castmaker, thus the female had found out some stupid story about rolling down the stairs.
Well, after Carlo’s visit, Mia’s next destination had been the cast room, where her dual long leg casts had been supplemented with two additional shells to encase the arms. Now, sadly settling on the bed, she gazed at the upper limbs, which were fully swaddled in freshly-made unyielding dressings running between the armpits and the palms
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 3
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 7
Mia and the Mafia, Part 7
The wheelchair rolled around the black suitcase, which Mia had hurriedly filled with some pieces of clothes. The girl propelled the vehicle closer to the window, and she nervously looked down, waiting for a taxi to arrive.
Feeling like she was running out of time, she raised her arm to check the wristwatch. Doing this, she couldn’t avoid seeing the present of the Mafia, the two gigantic long leg casts, which took away the possibility from her to leave this place on foot. With legs captured in those hard and unyielding thigh-to-toes things called long leg casts, Mia was a ship firmly anchored in a windless lagoon.
The ordered taxi didn’t come on time. Although, just to be prepared to depart this place, she bent to reach for the bag resting on the floor of the room, just beside the right wheel of the chair. She struggled with lifting up the heavy suitcase, which she put partly on her lap, and partly on the upper parts of the two LLCs. Offering a suit
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 6 13
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 6
Mia and the Mafia, Part 6
To answer the impatiently ringing doorbell, Mia propelled quickly her wheelchair, which she had to move manually, as it missed an engine. Starting from the soft carpet of the bedroom, the wheelchair rolled on the parquet floor of the living room. Exiting it, she turned around so carelessly that she almost smashed her casted legs against the wall. Just before the sturdily casted feet and the toes could kiss the wall, she stopped, and she replanned the route to spare the injured limbs, which extended forward like battering rams.
After the rush, panting, she halted the wheelchair in the antechamber.
‘Come in, please,’ Mia asked the guest to help herself.
The door opened, and Mia saw a female standing in the corridor. Unluckily, she wasn’t the one whom the host expected so terribly. Since Mia had been released from the hospital, she hadn’t met Georgia Sanders, and she hadn’t heard anything about her, either. Most likely, Carlo, the Ca
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 10
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 5
Mia and the Mafia, Part 5
Mia wiped away the tears of pain from her eyes. She remembered her talk to Jonathan, who had said that it was a dangerous business for anybody to write about the Mafia. Afterwards, she recalled her bad dream, in which she had become a freaky chimaera, born from the remembrance of the burnt amputee Cynthia and the heavily cast-confined Celia. They were the women, whom Jonathan, the Quisling had showed to Mia to deter her from investigation.
In different ways, both Cynthia and Celia had experienced the power of the gangsters. And, now, it was Mia’s turn to suffer.
Though the state of things was far less serious than in her nightmare, Mia couldn’t decide what the worst was. Could it be the dull pain of the crushed bones she felt despite the painkillers circulating in her blood? Or was it the unceasing itch, which tortured her as the soft cast padding adhered to the skin, and it kept irritating her all the time? Or was it just the feeling that she was
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 6 21
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 4
Mia and the Mafia, Part 4
Getting soaked in the heavy rain, Mia regretted the impulsive decision that she had got out of Jonathan’s car. Yet, having no other choice, she just looked up at the dark clouds, then she kept walking in the bad weather for hours. The dusk was falling, when she got home, being very cold. Exhausted, she had barely had the strength to take off the wet clothes, and instantly she simply fell in the bed.
Her dreams were upsetting, sprung from the things she had experienced in the sleepy St Helen’s Nursing Home. Mia imagined that she found herself in an unfamiliar place. In her dream, the bed, in which she was settling, was fully covered by a transparent plastic wrap. Maybe was it a quarantine room? – Mia wondered, smelling the strong odour of medical disinfectants. But, then, looking at her wounded body, she realised that her second guess was right: she was put in an oxygen tent.
She didn’t know what happened to her. However, the attack or t
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 6 4
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 3
Mia and the Mafia, Part 3
Feeling excluded from the nascent sisterly relation between the girls, Jonathan was already walking back to the car. Yet, he turned back to see Mia standing by Cynthia’s wheelchair, kindly chatting with the quad amputee. However, noticing her boss moving away, Mia said goodbye to her new friend. Kept gazing at them, Jon stopped to let Mia catch up.
‘You shouldn’t have talked to her in this style,’ Jonathan reproached the young journalist.
‘Your sister needs honest words and not white lies and empty sympathy. Cynthia doesn’t want you to mourn her. She's alive.’
‘You don’t know how mentally fragile she is. Her cynical style is just the tough surface she shows. Do you know why we had to remove her artificial hands? Because she tried to commit suicide on the very first day when she got them.’
‘You must trust her. She’d deserve a second chance.’
‘You can be her honorary sister, but
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 12
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 2
Mia and the Mafia, Part 2
To discover the destination, Mia slowly got out of Jonathan’s car. Standing by the vehicle, she looked around, finding herself in the middle of a forest. Beside the car park, she saw the friendly scatter of the houses beyond the trees. The mind-calming peacefulness touched her heart, and she just started to the listening to the chorus of birdsong. This remote location was a perfect place for anyone to hide from the world.
‘What is this place?’ Mia asked.
‘Officially, it is tagged as a special residential district on the maps. The St. Helen Nursing Home was built for the patients who need for long-term medical care. Each of them has it her or his own apartment like this one,’ he said, pointing at a building, which was the closest to them. ‘They live here with their caregiver or assistant.’
‘And does Cynthia live here, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why doesn’t she live with you? Or with your parents?&
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 8 5
Literature
Mia and the Mafia, Part 1
Mia and the Mafia, Part 1
skip intro
‘The first sentence is the most important. It must be perfect. It must be impressive. The introduction is like flypaper, luring the unknowing readers into exploring the story. Bravo! You were able to do it. But not only the beginning is good. Honestly, I can rarely meet such a perfectly written article. You would deserve a Pulitzer Prize.’
The praising words of the editor-in-chief Mr Jonathan Taylor created a broad smile on Mia’s face. She was terribly proud of the result of the hard and dangerous ten-month work. Working for merely three years for the local newspaper, she was still a junior journalist, but now, she hoped that this report could be a ticket to elevate her into a more respected position.
‘This isn’t finished. This is only the first part of the series,’ she swam in admiration.
However, her boss shared merely the br
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 7 25
Literature
Insurance Fraud, Part 23
Insurance Fraud, Part 23
When Beth received the guest, she was already differently dressed. Of course, the clothes she wore weren’t a provocative evening dress but a conservatively tailored full body cast woven from water-resistant materials. Saved out of the soaked FBC, which the waterdrops sprayed from the fire protection system totally ruined, she was swaddled in brand new hull fashioned from fibreglass tissues. Right after the second cyber attack, she had had to undergo four serious surgeries, in which the doctors had had to realign all her displaced bones. And after the jigsaw puzzle of her limbs had been mostly worked out, she had been sunk into a new rigid cast suit with an additional metal grid all around it.
Although her new cocoon wasn’t as personalised as the 3D-manufactured AMS had been, it was comfortable enough for Beth to survive the following months (or years?). Heavily affected by both of the hacker attacks, the shattered resident of the full body cast didn
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster
:iconaliencaster:aliencaster 5 3
cast story cast fiction fbc full body cast minerva minerva cast risser cast dss double shoulder spica cast body cast torso cast lac long arm cast dlac dual long arm cast ssc shoulder spica cast dhs double hip spica llc long leg cast dllc dual long leg cast bandage bandaged full body bandage wheelchair crutch crutches sling traction hospital stretcher cast plaster cast fiberglass fibreglass paralysed paralyzed amputee amputation wheelchairgirl wheelchairbound quad brace sling blind blindness disability disabled hospital paralysis paralyzis traction spreader bar neck collar

Random Favourites

SideCast by excilion SideCast :iconexcilion:excilion 55 7 in stairs by excilion in stairs :iconexcilion:excilion 38 9 Airspica by excilion Airspica :iconexcilion:excilion 72 5 26min of Bonus Scenes and Outtakes on our Patreon! by MedicBrace 26min of Bonus Scenes and Outtakes on our Patreon! :iconmedicbrace:MedicBrace 28 0 Castsocks by excilion Castsocks :iconexcilion:excilion 37 6 The Dress by excilion The Dress :iconexcilion:excilion 68 4 Karen5 by briwri01 Karen5 :iconbriwri01:briwri01 13 0 Need to walk by excilion Need to walk :iconexcilion:excilion 47 4 Graffiti by excilion Graffiti :iconexcilion:excilion 49 1 Tre Notti Damore1 by thecat2
Mature content
Tre Notti Damore1 :iconthecat2:thecat2 7 0
wall by excilion wall :iconexcilion:excilion 28 7 From hospital by excilion From hospital :iconexcilion:excilion 37 2 eight by excilion eight :iconexcilion:excilion 60 5 Will walk by excilion Will walk :iconexcilion:excilion 45 2 Marina's Leg Cast2 by medli96 Marina's Leg Cast2 :iconmedli96:medli96 46 24 This is all your fault by rizzo-cast
Mature content
This is all your fault :iconrizzo-cast:rizzo-cast 168 49

Thank you very much indeed for the quarter-of-a-million pageviews!




STORY UNDER RECONSTRUCTION

The Curse of Friday the 13th - Day 3: (cast) Julie and her husband Mike are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven for her to avoid being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it?

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!

Agent Alpha: (cast, bandages, paralysis, amputation, blindness, deafness) in this story, you’re the hero. Or rather, the hero can be a male or a female, young or old, short or tall, blonde or black-haired. It all depends only on your imagination. This story isn’t linear but interactive: so, when getting to a decision point, you must work out what to do. Going to the right or turning to the left? Fight or flight? Being a hero or a loser? And, of course, you must face the result of any of your choice. Walk through the labyrinth of this story to read all the outcomes that can be happy or sad ends with casts for fractures, or bandages for burn injuries, or (exceeding my usual limits) even amputation or paralysis.

NON-SERIES STORIES

Mia and the Mafia(cast, amputation, disabilities, bandages) along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled.
The Experiment: (cast) differently from her smooth scientific career, Rebecca's personal life is a little bit troubled because of her Asperger Syndrome. However, things will be more challenging, when she is in charge of finding the perfect cure for brittle bone disease. And after meeting several females in casts, she finds out who is at the other end of the spectrum.
Insurance Fraud: (cast, paralysis, disabilities) this story is about the incredible link, which connects an ambitious housewife to a NASA scientist, and it tells how a gigantic house mortgage can pave the way for the discovering the Solar System.
Postmodern Pygmalion: (cast) fallen from high society, the famous fashion model Sharon Galatea has to live with her huge casts. Treating her, Dr Peter Malion not only meets the biggest opportunity of his life but he finds love, too. A new postmodern version of an old mythological story about a sculptor called Pygmalion, who fell in love with his statue Galatea.
The Plague
: (cast) a mysterious bone weakness disease infects some people. Spreading like a wildfire, it contaminates hundreds. In a short time millions of people wear cast. Can Dr Sandra Watkins from CDC stop the cast plague before it infects you?

STORY SERIES: FIRST-PERSON STORIES

Living Crash Test Dummies: (cast) having suffered an awkward accident, Caroline realises that she likes wearing casts. After an embarrassing episode in a hospital, and despite being an art historian, to fulfil her dreams, she joins the Special Vehicle Safety Test Inc. where she meets a new friend and discovers a long-forgotten family secret.
Princess Caroline: (cast, paralysis) the American ex-living-crash-test-dummy girl Caroline becomes a princess in Germany, but when meeting huge hurdles in her way, she experiences that being a member of the royal family isn't as easy and carefree as she dreamt of it before. An arrival of an old enemy, and a serious concern about her twin sister forces Caroline to make far-reaching decisions.

STORY SERIES: A WOLF'S DAY

Day 1 (Broken Nation): (cast, bandage, brace, amputation) Anti-terrorist federal agent Janet Wolf should solve two major cases in 24 hours. She has to confront terrorists having a bone-shattering weapon as well as a White House conspiracy.  Can she save the nation without getting any cast? A story in almost "real time".
Day 2 (Enemy Within): (cast, disability, blindness) there's a new day and there's a new foe, however Agent Janet Wolf is the same again. To defy a menace which is more dangerous than anything before, and to prevent the government from total collapse, she literally breaks the enemy, without any hesitation, since time is short. She's got only 24 hours.

STORY SERIES: A STORY OF A TIME TRAVELLER

1961: (cast) the young and inexperienced time-travel agent Sarah Peters goes back to 1961 to detect if an old newspaper picture of a full body casted patient is real or not, but something goes wrong, terribly wrong.
1963: (cast, bandages) it seems Sarah can fulfil her dreams by travelling back to 1963 in Dallas but she doesn't get what she asked for. Instead of being a witness of the assassination, she's involved in a couple of blasts and accidents, she gets several plaster casts and bandages, moreover she's investigated by two enthusiastic FBI agents who want to know more about her time-travel affairs.

STORY SERIES: A CURSE OF FRIDAY THE 13TH

The Very First Day: (cast) having made a multi-millon dollar mistake, the young attorney Julie Warden is cursed. Her Friday the 13th is full of an accident series. After every mishap her casts get bigger and bigger. And there's so much time to Midnight.
Day 2: (cast) poor Julie isn't able to be freed from the curse. Having hardly survived her first Friday the 13th, she has to face a new unlucky day again and she has to experience several disastrous twists of fate once more. Does a new day mean a new full body cast?
Day 3: (cast) Julie and her husband Mike are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven for her to avoid being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? 
Endgame: (cast) after facing much troubles caused by the curse of Friday the 13th, having suffered a lot of serious accidents, and having been a miserable patient with her three full body casts, Julie and Mike seemingly found a good plan to trick the curse. However, their idea backfired, and everything went downhill, before the hope could return. 

FRINGE CORNER

Identity Theft: (cast) once upon a time, there was a girl Anita who left her superrich family to look for adventures, and there was another one called Norma, being terribly long for having a better life. By switching them, the Fate strangely gave both of them what they wanted. After a decade, the paths of the two girls crossed each other again, culminating in a catfight scene where no price was too high for Norma to protect her new life, her new family and billions of dollars.
Dewdrops: (cast, bandage, amputation, blindness) what if cast fiction meets the non-fiction borrowed from reality? Cops and criminals, human smuggling and sex crime, betrayal and revenge in a world where, after passing the Breakpoint, the world turns upside down, best friends became worst enemies, and a beauty turns into a beast.

Need more info? A Guide to My Stories


Which one is your favourite story? Which character do you like best? Any other things worth mentioning? Please write a comment!
Tags: #caststory #castfiction #fbc #fullbodycast #minerva #minervacast #rissercast #dss #doubleshoulderspicacast #bodycast #torsocast #lac #longarmcast #dlac #duallongarmcast #ssc #shoulderspicacast #dhs #doublehipspica #llc #longlegcast #dllc #duallonglegcast #bandage #fullbodybandage #wheelchair #crutch #crutches #sling #traction #hospital #stretcher #cast #plastercast #fiberglass #fibreglass
P.S. 1: I'm not a native English, so if you would find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention.
P.S. 2: If you'd like to draw illustrations for my stories, I won't refuse it.
P.S. 3: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write your comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Activity


The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 6
Friday the 13th, 10:29 a.m.

‘Mr Hawk, it all began when...’

Julie and Mike were about to tell their story to the host. But, rather impolitely, Mr Hawk elevated his arm to make them silent. Instead of listening to the cast-wrapped and wheelchair-bound client and her husband, who would terribly need for his help, he paid all his attention to the radio news.

‘...luckily no one was injured during the explosion of the ammunition dump, as a spokesman of the Department of Defence confirmed. The official press release will...’

‘...not reveal anything important,' Mr Hawk imitated the objective style of the news anchor. Frustrated, he reached for the switch to turn off the radio set. All-knowingly, he lowered his voice as if he had been sharing a vitally important piece of information with his guests. ‘Everybody’s talking about the two mysterious blasts, which happened this night in the desert. Someone says that it was a Chinese spy satellite, which crashed down. Or maybe the Air Force has shot down a UFO. Anyway, the Pentagon would be crazy to tell us the truth.’

Hearing the range of wild ideas, Mike could hardly suppress his laughter, but he gazed at Julie, who was a victim of the very explosion, which Mr Hawk tried hard to analyse.

Being a bit broken, Julie didn’t feel like enlightening Mr Hawk, either. Captured in a huge shell, which was a custom-made compound of a Minerva cast and a shoulder spica cast, she had become a wheelchair-dweller. Though her legs were sound, the cast envelopment on her upper body was so extensive, weighty and confining that it was a challenge for her to walk even a short distance.

Holding her in a changeless and stiff pose, the enormous piece of the head-and-neck-and body cast framed her unbandaged face and capped her whole head. The numerous layers of dressings tightly encircled the neck and immobilised most of the torso, as well. Unfortunately, the whole Minerva cast was shaped from massive plaster, what made her staying in the shell hardly bearable. Besides, she was blessed with a shoulder spica cast, too, which contained the complete arm between the armpit and the palm, except for only her cast-free digits uselessly poking out of the narrow opening. Smoothlessly attached to the central medical armour, the disabled limb was elevated horizontally to shoulder height. The whole cast construction was flexed at the elbow at ninety degrees so that her fingers could accusingly point at Mr Hawk sitting opposite.

After listening to the news broadcast, the wizard focused his attention on Julie and Mike, again. He studied the female, who was half-captured in the solid medical integument. Especially, he watched the unmistakable bar, which was applied between the SSC and the body cast to push up the heavy weight of the bandages imprisoning the limb.

‘So was it Mr Nilrem personally, who gave my address to you?’ Mr Hawk asked his first question, showing them a semblance of a smile.

Generally, it was an honour when the old billionaire had mentioned somebody by name. Waiting for their answer, Mr Hawk lit a cigar, impolitely yet rightly at the same time, feeling at home in his office.

‘One can see such a big cast very rarely nowadays, Mrs Warden.’ Like a two-stroke engine without catalyst, Mr Hawk exhaled dense smoke. His eyes got glued on the arched part of the cast jacket, which served as a plaster bra for the female.

‘If you can’t help me, my next cast is going to be even bigger,’ Julie said.

With a cast-captured neck and face, she could only stare straight ahead at the wizard. Packed in the enormous dressings, she felt so uncomfortable, because the weighty shoulder spica cast was pulling her body to the right, though the SSC was supplemented with a support bar. Fighting hard to counteract the heavy shoulder cast, the girl fidgeted to find a better position in the padded wheelchair.

‘Would you mind telling me something more about this Curse?’ Mr Hawk asked.

‘What has Mr Nilrem told you?’ she asked.

‘To be honest, nothing.’

‘Oh, sh*t,’ Julie murmured.

Turning to her, Mike checked her facial expression. Understandably, Julie wasn’t in a mood to talk about all her accidents she had suffered during the two and a half Fridays the 13th.

‘Well, my wife must be cursed,’ Mike told him their story. ‘Really, I myself could hardly believe it, but there is no scientific explanation left for us. After she made a costly mistake to Mr Nilrem, she was cursed by his sister Eve. On every Friday the 13th, my wife is involved in accidents, which, somehow, can be connected to the number “Thirteen” or to the word “Friday”.’

‘This is very interesting.’ Mr Hawk started to take notes. He talked with a lit cigarette in his mouth. ‘Please, go on. I’d like to hear everything.’

And Mike just talked, talked, and talked, because so much had happened to them since she had been affected by the Curse. All the story was a repeating series about accidents, then getting casts, then another accident and getting bigger casts again. After minutiously presenting the mishaps, which had happened to her during the first and the second Friday the 13th, he had to lie about the latest events, including everything about the destroyed government shelter and the failed drone test. In the fine-tuned version, Julie had fallen into their basement this morning, that’s why she was wrapped in such a large shell carved out of plaster of Paris.

Mr Hawk just hmmm-ed. At least, he started to work out what the Curse of the Friday 13th was all about.

‘Can you help me or not, Mr Hawk?’ Julie’s question sounded impatient. Not without reason. Merely thirteen hours left until Midnight, and until her next full body cast, in which she would be separated from everything she loved. ‘Or should I repeat the whole story again?’

‘It isn’t necessary, Mrs Warden,’ Mr Hawk answered while causally lighting a new cylinder of tobacco.

Irritated by the cigar smoke, which slowly began to fill up the air of the room, Julie coughed heavily. Strangely, even the fierce expel of air wasn’t able to shake her body fixed in the strengthened shell.

‘Would you stop it, Sir?’ Mike asked, seeing Julie’s heavy reaction to the fume.

‘What?’

‘Smoking, of course.’

‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Why haven’t you mentioned it before?’ Mr Hawk returned the blame, however, he put his cigar out, pressing its burning end into an ashtray, which was almost full up to the rim. ‘Well, what do you want me to do for you, exactly?’ The magician asked with an unknowing expression.

‘What?’ Julie got furious, and her healthy fist hit the padded armrest of the wheelchair. ‘If you look at me, you must work out easily what I want! I defied the doctors, who advised me to stay in hospital, and I come here to you. You can be the only one, who can save me from becoming a mummy again.’

‘My wife would like you to stop the Curse of Friday the 13th. She’s afraid that she’s going to be in a full body cast by midnight. And again and again on all the following Fridays the 13th. Do you understand me, Mr Hawk?’ Mike translated her words, being a bit calmer than his upset spouse.

‘Oh, I got it.’ Mr Hawk looked at the plaster-casted Julie sitting in the wheelchair, and then he was thinking about Mike’s words for a moment to find a solution that would be good for everyone. ‘Do you want me to write a new magic spell, which is powerful enough to overwrite the Nilrem Curse? It won’t be easy. I must be absolutely careful. If I mess it up, it doesn’t neutralise the other spell. On the contrary! Maybe, Mrs Warden will have to live with two different curses at the same time.’

Forgetting his promise on stopping smoking, Mr Hawk nervously lit a cigar again. Affected by the new cloud of smoke, Julie coughed.

‘Mr and Mrs Warden, please give me some free minutes to know whether there is any possibility to help you. I must use my Tarot cards to see the future.’ Afterwards, he opened the uppermost drawer of his desk, from which he put a deck of cards on the table in front of him. ‘Be quiet, please, for a short while.’

‘I need some fresh air,’ Julie whispered to Mike, trying not to disturb Mr Hawk’s magical session.

‘Can I help you, honey?’

‘No, thanks. I can walk. For now,’ she said, knowing the future better than the magician did.

Seeing her face, Mike realised that his wife was convinced of her fate. She didn’t hope that she would get any relief from this slow-minded wizard.

Moving her legs from the legrests to the floor, Julie stood up from the wheelchair extremely carefully. Just to test the safety of the place and her ability to walk, she took some experimental steps. Strangely, the floor didn’t collapse under her shoes, and she didn’t slip on the carpet, either. Because of the Minerva cast, which fastened her head, anything that was in front of her legs was in her vast blindspot. So she tried to move unhurriedly as if she had been walking on a minefield.

Being cautious with all her steps, Julie went across the room, bypassing each piece of furniture. She needed a big free airspace, as well, because of the bulky shoulder spica cast, which projected far out from the main mass of the body cast.

After she managed to get to the windows unharmed, she noticed that they were more than being simple glassed openings in the wall, as it was a door to a balcony. Got sick due to the smoky atmosphere of the room, she was longing for some fresh air so much. Using her clumsy but uncasted left hand, Julie opened the door. Turning around, she wasn't far from breaking out the door glass with her cast-frozen elbow. Hit by the heavy shell, the glass panes of the door shook loudly.

‘Sorry,’ she made an excuse, sending a smile to Mike, who got scared when hearing the thundering noise.

Having opened the door, Julie stepped out to the balcony on the second floor. Finally, clear air could recapture her lungs. Looking around, she peered down at the cars running along a not-too-busy road in front of the house. Beyond the road, there was the sleepy city park. Near its gate, she spotted a gigantic placard, in which the local mayor greeted the visitors, who came to see the new public garden of the...

‘Jeez!’ Julie cried, after reading the address. Confined in the cast suit, stepping back wasn’t too easy, and, strangely, she felt as if some force had glued her legs to the floor.

‘Oh, no... Mr Warden, your wife is in danger!’ Mr Hawk’s astonished exclaim overwhelmed Julie’s cry. Looking for the woman, he kept turning his head to the left and then to the right. While he had been reading out the future from the magic cards, he hadn’t noticed the woman leaving the room. ‘Where is she?’

‘On the balcony,’ Mike answered ominously.

‘Oh, no. I’ve seen such terrible things! The cards say that she’s in clear and present danger! Mrs Warden, you must leave this place! Now!’ Mr Hawk shouted to call her back.

Frightened by the wizard’s words, Julie tried to escape from the balcony. Mike, too, jumped to help her. But his rescue action was too late. With a sound of a crunch, the balcony simply detached from the main block of the building. The floor under her legs collapsed, and the platform simply disappeared from view, with Julie on its board. The disaster happened so fast that she had no time even to yell out for help.

‘Oh, now I understand how the Curse works, Mr Warden,’ Mr Hawk said with a pale face. ‘You mustn’t have come here to the District XIII today.’

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 5)     Next (Part 8)--> cast
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 6
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2: cast, Part 3: story, Part 4: cast, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7:

A reader's view: "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Stories of this series: Day 1 --> Day 2 --> Day 3 --> Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 20 June, 2018
Loading...
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 5
Friday the 13th, 9:02 a.m.

‘I can’t tell you too much about how the shelter was attacked since most of the information is classified. However, I could hear this and that. Allegedly, it was a failed weapon test. The Air Force had an experimental drone, which was armed with special bunker-buster missiles. But it got out of their control and attacked the shelter. The drone launched a rocket, which penetrated the rocks, then it went through the concrete shields, as well, destroying four floors above you. The Sublevel Five, where your room was, collapsed.'

‘When the walls fell down, I couldn’t imagine what could blow up such a safe place. An earthquake? Or a war?’ Julie said, looking back on the events.

‘You were stuck under the debris, and this was how your arm was broken,’ Mike went on telling the story. ‘Maybe, you could get away with that injury, but when the rescue team got there to free you, a second accident happened. Working around you, a clumsy rescue worker, a certain Mr Viernes receded and bumped into the wall, which was already weakened by the blast... and it all collapsed… on you.’

‘So this is the cause for my Minerva cast,’ she said and sighed. Garbed in the inflexible plaster shell, which was like a body-fitting jacket with a big hood, she felt so disabled.

‘Yeah. Unluckily, heavy pieces of bricks and concrete fell on your back, and they hit your shoulder, and heavily injured your neck, too.'

‘Oh, what... and the guy... who did this... Mr Viernes...’ Telling the name of the man, who had unintentionally injured her body, Julie grimaced. ‘Do you speak Spanish, don’t you?’

‘I got what you mean,’ Mike nodded. ‘Senor Viernes. It means Mr Friday. And we already got back to our favourite topic of conversation, the Nilrem Curse?’

‘How many pieces of proof do you need to believe it?’

Her question bounced back from the wall of his resistance. Julie closed her eyes to think about it. During the previous Fridays the 13th, she had suffered all kind of terrible accidents. But, incomparably, this missile attack had been the most terrifying and devastating disaster she had ever gone through. The evil force of the Curse had guided a rocket into the shelter to hurt her. There was no place to hide from black magic. The Nilrem Curse wasn’t joking, and it was able to destroy even an unconquerable government shelter to achieve its goal: breaking her bones and pushing her into casts.

Was there any chance to stop the Curse? What if they would kill the ones, who were behind this? Namely, Adam or Eve? Or both of them? Shivered by the bloodthirsty plans, Julie shooed them away. She hoped that there was an undiscovered loophole for her to jump out of the cycles of sufferings.

‘Mike?’ Julie asked. ‘I don’t want to wait for any new accidents today. You must finish the work.’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘You must break my unbroken bones. Until midnight, I’m going to be full-body-casted anyway. You can’t save me, no matter what you would do for me. I do want you to...’

‘You’re joking.’

‘I’m deadly serious,’ Julie said with determination, although some teardrops rolled down the cheeks, which were surrounded by freshly made casts. ‘You told me that you would bring me into the safest place in the world,’ she reproached her husband.

‘Maybe, we failed this time, but, next...’ Having no idea, Mike didn’t know how to finish the sentence, which was originally intended to give her some hope.

Differing from it, the next sentence was full of fresh confident, however, it didn’t come from Mike but from a man, who had just entered the room.

‘Mr and Mrs Warden, both of you were such narrow-minded persons when you worked out your simplistic plan on hiding in a “cave”. You can’t escape from the Curse in this way.’

The manner he used was too objective and dry for the curse-affected couple. Especially, in the case when the source of all their troubles lectured them.

‘I think it’s not the best time for us to talk to each other, Mr Nilrem,’ Mike said to the old billionaire without greeting him.

‘Why not, Mr Warden? Maybe, I’ve got some piece of good news for you,’ he replied, beaming. Then he placed a bunch of flower on the cabinet beside the cast-wrapped patient’s bed. Next, he flashed a glance at the rigid shells, which compactly dressed Julie’s head, neck, body and one of her arms, but he didn’t say any words about her casts. ‘First of all, darling, thank you very much for bringing me a 700-million-dollar contract!’

‘You can’t call me...’ Enraged by the fondle, Julie’s movement was so intense that her plaster integument almost broke in two as she feverishly tried to jump out of it. However, feeling the stabbing ache in the upper part of her backbone, she fell back into the of pillow nest, pulled by the heavy load of the plaster shoulder spica and Minerva cast.

‘The DoD woke me up early in the morning to tell me that there would be a great project for the Nilrem Construction Company. General Schmidt and his guys had me sign a confidentiality contract, and they escorted me to the middle of nowhere. Oh, that place looked like a ground zero site. I was standing on the rim of a huge smoking crater. After they let me study the place, the officers asked me how much it would cost for them to rebuild the upper floors of the shelter. I went around, told them the price and they accepted it. This is my story in short,’ Mr Nilrem summarised the lucrative hours to them. ‘And I learnt your story, as well, from my new friends. Thank you very much, Mr Warden, for hiding your wife in that COG shelter.’ The old man seemed really grateful.

‘You won’t believe how lucky all of us are. Earlier, I was thinking about bringing Julie into the Cheyenne bunker. That place can be attacked only with nuclear weapons. Well, it means...,’ Mike explained.

Thinking of the possibility of a global conflict, Mr Nilrem didn’t seem as pleased as he had been a minute ago. The more seriously Mike and Julie played their hide-and-seek, the more savagely the Nilrem Curse would strike back.

‘I think that meeting you was General Schmidt’s last action, Mr Nilrem. Probably, he would be fired by this evening. He lost the most expensive drone of the Air Force, and he actually destroyed a COG shelter which he should have protected, making a huge damage,’ Mike added.

‘Can anyone believe me if I would tell them that it all was my fault?’ Julie asked.

‘It’s not your fault, darling. It is his fault,’ Mike answered, pointing at their hated enemy.

‘You’re so obsessed with talking about the Curse all the time. Why don’t you enjoy being together?’ Mr Nilrem told them as if he couldn’t have heard the previous sentences.

‘By the way, when we met for the last time, you said to me that you were afraid a bit of Detective White’s investigation. He knows what you’re doing to us. Mr Nilrem, you’re with us right now in this hospital room. Meeting us here won’t be a new evidence for the connection between us?’ Mike asked.

‘This is not your concern. Besides, a rather mysterious and unexplainable accident happened to Detective White this morning,’ Mr Nilrem answered, smiling again.

Mike didn’t dare to ask what kind of accident it could be. However, it had to be serious enough to move the cop from Mr Nilrem’s chessboard.

‘Ah, and I almost forgot why I came here,’ Mr Nilrem rubbed his forehead. ‘I can give you an address. There is a guy called Sam Hawk. He’s a wizard. Said to be one of the best in this profession. He can counteract the Curse. You must meet him, no matter what!’ he told them, almost commanding.

‘My doctors advised me to stay here because I need rest to cure the serious backbone injury. And, anyway, you know, by Midnight, a full... body... cast...,’ Julie said and put her healthy arm on the vast medical armour, which swaddled her torso. The final cast she would get would be three times as big as her recent one – and it was a torturing thought.

‘Trust me, I know how my sister’s spell works as I know it very well. You can do anything today. You can leave this hospital, and you won’t be paralysed whatever happens. Your Fate is different.’ Mr Nilrem said, flashing a glance at Julie’s face, which was surrounded by the immense plaster headpiece. And what he said next shed a new light on the interpretation of the Curse put on the girl. ‘The way the Curse acts is obviously cruel, but death and paralysis are not included in it. You are very fragile, but, so to say, you’re immortal today.’

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 4)     Next (Part 6)--> cast
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 5
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2: cast, Part 3: story, Part 4: cast, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast

A reader's view:  "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Stories of this series: Day 1 --> Day 2 --> Day 3 --> Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 16 June, 2018
Loading...
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 4
Friday the 13th, 8:38 a.m.

Mike stepped closer to the windows to adjust the curtains. Bothering him, the bright light of the morning sun poured blindly into the east-facing room, in which Julie was accommodated after she had left the cast room hours ago. But this deed was a bit belated. Caressing Julie’s face, a ray of light called her back from the medical blur. Up to now, suppressed by medication, the girl was slipping peacefully, not knowing what had happened to her. However, aroused by the shining beam of the sun, she twitched her three uncasted limbs.

Slowly slipping out of unconsciousness, and swaying on the border of awareness, Julie saw a row of scenes taken from a wrongly-directed catastrophe movie starred by her. Escaping from something. Mike’s secret plan. A safe place to hide. A room under the ground. Hope. Blast. Buried alive. Pain. Searchlights of a rescue team. Then darkness. And, finally...

Attempting to talk to Mike, Julie said inaudibly voices. To help his wife, he tenderly removed the oxygen mask from her face, and he reset the bed to create a comfortable sitting pose to her.

‘Has the war broken out?’ Julie whispered, connecting some of the dots in a rather incorrect way.

‘Luckily, not.’

Julie fought hard for opening her eyes. She sensed as the major part of her body members was deeply nested into some hard thing. The soft touch of the inner gauzes and the hard grip of the outer encasement was so familiar. However, her mind was too dull to find the right name for this stuff.

Julie’s last clear memory came from the time when she had been in an underground shelter. But now, she couldn’t be in the room on the Sublevel Five of the COG bunker, because that place didn’t exist any longer. Somehow, she remembered a further piece of memory, in which she felt as if the whole sky had fallen on her. Like a giant’s hand, the blast had peeled off the roof of the room, and its powerful airwave had kicked her off the bed, tossing her body into a corner.

The explosion had spared her life, but Julie had had to struggle to survive. She could hardly breathe the air, which had been filled with dust and smoke. Her throat and lungs got irritated, forcing her to cough hard. Pressed into the nook, the entrapped female had wanted to find out how to run away from this chaos. But, as she had begun to move, a terrible shockwave had stricken into her right arm. Lying on the floor, she had discovered that her right arm had been stuck under tons of debris.

Although she was in a different place, Julie felt still restricted, however, this recent kind of restriction was different from the situation, in which she had been pinned down by a collapsed concrete wall. Disorganised, she licked her dry lips and asked her next question.

‘Where am I?’

‘In a military hospital,’ Mike replied.

Falling back into the dark water of memories, Julie could hardly hear the answer. So, she had been saved from there. Yet, having a blackout, she couldn’t see the whole line of events, the causes and consequences.

What a weird continuity! – she thought when thinking again about the scene, in which her right arm had been captured by the ruins of the room. This very body part had been the last one, which had still been wrapped in rigid dressings after the second Friday the 13th, and this poor member had become the first piece of bones, which had been smashed again.

But, suddenly, the vivid pictures faded away, as Julie fully slid back to present time. With a clear mind, she found herself sitting in a bed (in a military hospital – as Mike said), with a hill of pampering pillows cushioning the elevated upper part of the bed to support the patient’s injured, aching and cast-encased back. She checked her right arm, but the medical protection she found there was much bigger than a simple and renewed long arm cast. The firm encasement containing the limb was held in the air in slings, but she discovered a thick bar, too, wedged between the bandaged arm and the cast of...

Oh, holy sh*t, this was much bigger than she expected. Terrified, she experienced that she wasn’t able to move her head, either. To measure the dimensions of the cast, which firmly kept her torso, Julie fearingly elevated her sound left arm to probe some part of her upper body. Her worst misgivings came true since she could find nothing else but a contiguous helmet with a stone hard surface put around her head, the neck and even most of her body.

‘Is it a Minerva cast?’ she asked finally, with all the disgust she had, especially after she sensed the material from which her cocoon was shaped. She was halfly dressed in plaster. Damn heavy, cruelly confining and inch-thick plaster.

‘Yes, this is a Minerva. And your right arm is in a shoulder spica cast, too,’ he described her state.

For Julie, being boxed into a plaster Minerva was equal to a punishment. And this opinion wasn’t a prejudice but a piece of practical knowledge she had gathered from the months while she had been staying in all possible kind of casts.

‘And this is made of plaster. Why is it plaster? I want fibreglass!’ she demanded after she checked the thickness of the cast rimming her face.

‘Because of your high medical bills, there is no health insurance company, which would pay the cost of anything that is beyond basic care. So, no operation, no fibreglass. Everybody knows that you’ve already had two full body casts up to now. You’re a Class B patient, you can get old-style plaster casts only. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.’

After so many accidents, it was expectable – Julie admitted. Next, she focused on the casts again. In theory, having a Minerva and an SSC, she sported two different kinds of casts. However, the shells were so deeply intertwined that they formed a single and indivisible entity restraining most of her upper body.

Like any other Minerva casts, this one was huge, heavy, and it almost completely deprived her of any kind of motion. Put into this shell, she was compactly captured, because she couldn’t turn her head, and she couldn’t bend her body, either. All that she could do was to sit or stand rigidly. As the multi-layered head cast cut off most of her peripheral vision, she could look straight ahead merely, having an artificial tunnel vision.

Submitted to this big unbending rind, Julie almost turned into a will-less doll. The Minerva cast was so extensive that it was able to capture everything from the top of the head down to the belly button. The solidly frozen and personalised dressings crowned the head, surrounded the face, leaving a small cast-free face window between the eyebrows and the chin line. The lower part of the armour fixed the neck and mantled the torso. To immobilise the wounded backbone, the body cast narrowly imprisoned the chest. The immense cast jacket was bulkily heavy and smooth and even, except for the place over her breasts, appearing to be a frozen wave formed from plaster cast.

As Julie had already seen, her right arm was swaddled in a terribly great shoulder spica cast, which disabled each bit of this body part down to the tips of her fingers and thumb. Being elevated to shoulder level, the swathed arm was bent at the elbow and her hand was pointing somewhat forward. And there was a supporting bar mounted between the arm cast and the torso cast to keep this whole construction in the right place.

Contained in rigid dressings of such immense dimensions, Julie thought that it was the unluckiest beginning in the series of the Fridays the 13th she had gone through so far.

‘What has happened?’ she asked. Could hardly believing, her healthy fingers still walked on the solidified surface of the body cast.

‘Can’t you remember?’

‘Some parts are missing. I remember that you took me to a safe place. But something happened. I thought the sky was falling on me. It had to be a huge explosion...’

‘It was a friendly fire.’

‘Oh, a very friendly one,’ Julie ironised, and she kept tapping the rough medical coverage encasing the torso as if trying to peel it off her body.

to be continued

story <--Previous (Part 3)
     Next (Part 5)--> cast
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 4
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2: cast, Part 3: story, Part 4: cast, Part 5: cast

A reader's view:  "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Stories of this series: Day 1 --> Day 2 --> Day 3 --> Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 13 June, 2018
Loading...
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 3
Friday the 13th, 12:13 a.m.

skip background story

Mike and his curse-haunted wife weren’t the only people, who were awake in this odd night. Many miles away, in the opposite corner of the desert, an intense activity filled a crowded ‘burrow’. Of course, this place wasn’t a nice home for a family of moles, but it was a well-built underground complex dug for the air force.

Standing on the gallery, General Harold W. Schmidt impersonated a morose captain, whose next task was a challenging one. He had to prepare a successful maiden voyage of an aircraft – and failure was not an option. With arms folded, he looked down at organised chaos in the subsurface hall of the mission control centre. However, as the launch time quickly approached, the distracting murmur receded among the military and the technical staff. His subordinates took their seats, and the eyes started to be glued on the glaring monitors of the workstations.

Next, General Schmidt, too, glanced at large screens mounted on the walls opposite to check the airstrip and the special aircraft from almost all possible angles. During his long career, he had lead several missions, most of them successfully. But, beyond question, this event would be a historical one. The experienced head of the Air Force Experimental Facility didn’t show any sign of nervousness, however, he could hardly wait to see the Black Arrow flying in the air. A successfully accomplished mission would elevate him up to the rank of a four-star general.

Entranced by the big digits displayed on the screen, General Schmidt’s lips moved, as he inaudibly mentioned the numbers one by one, following the cadenced countdown.

‘Five..., four..., three..., two..., one..., zero!’

At 0030 hours sharp, the twin engines of the unmanned aircraft started to turn on. Gracefully, the robust propulsion system pushed forward the streamlined body. Rolling along the airstrip, the drone gathered enough speed to overwhelm gravity, and, finally, its tyres detached from the concrete of the runway. The experimental weapon, which had been developed from billions of dollars, climbed steeply toward the clouds.

All the members of military unit acknowledged the problem-free launch with a silent and short applause, coloured by some muffled ‘hurray’. But then, all of them turned back to the computer monitors, where the telecasted video feed changed, depicting normal and infrared terrestrial video feeds and satellite images taken of the airspace above experimental site.

Pleased with the performance of his great team, the General walked down the stairs, and he allowed himself a faint smile as he saw that the smartest and most costly drone built ever went on flying normally above the base. Now, it was time to test its basic functions.

‘Let this bird move around the valley in the opposite direction, Lieutenant,’ the General asked the operator.

The drone pilot readjusted the settings of the flight. Within seconds, everybody could enjoy the changed black-and-green live video stream, which the UAV telecasted with its on-board 360-degree thermal imaging cameras. Re-coloured by the green filter, the mountains and the desert running below the aircraft looked as green as if it had been covered by grass and forest.

‘Perfect,’ General Schmidt affirmed loudly. ‘Now, switch on the AI to test the autonomous operation.’

The operator obeyed the order. Just after he selected the right icon, the signal got to the aircraft with the speed of light. Via radio communication, the remote control started up the smart software on the board of the drone. At first, seemingly nothing changed, as the software needed some time to boot and to take over the control over the UAV. With the new parameters, the seamless flight continued. But, a bit later, the operator checked the feedback, since the drone’s flight route diverged. Suddenly, even the broadcasted pictures tilted on the monitor in front of the officers.

‘What is that, Lieutenant?’ the General asked. Stunned, he stepped back from the operator’s terminal to see the bigger picture.

‘We’ve got an unexpected problem with the autopilot program, Sir. Some electric interference is jamming the connection,’ he said. The soldier raised his arm to point at the corner of the monitor displaying an unknown radio source, which unpredictably changed its frequency and wavelength.

‘What is it? Where is the source? Is anybody jamming us? Or hacking the drone?’

‘I don’t know, Sir. Maybe, it can be just some cosmic noise or star flare.’

‘Can you bypass it?’

‘I’m already working on it, General,’ he replied, and he started to readjust the setting of the communication with the drone.

Hit by the problem, General Schmidt’s optimistic smile disappeared. The situation became more challenging when the previous problem wasn’t solved but it got doubled: the picture broadcasted by the drone totally turned upside down.

‘We can’t take back control. The UAV isn’t responding. We’ve totally lost it,' the operator reported the terrible news.

Thinking of the drone, which, getting out of control, was winging blindly in the air, General Schmidt felt as all his hair slowly turned grey. Then he bit his lips. He didn’t want to be famous for being the one, who lost the most expensive UAV of the Air Force on its test flight.

‘Let’s try again. Restart the system, and try to re-establish the connection. Do something!' the General commanded.

‘It’s too late to intervene, Sir. The UAV is leaving the restricted airspace, and it is heading toward North. Moreover, it’s accelerating, Sir,’ the operator said, reading the speed and other flight data on the screen. But the worst came now. ‘The drone is arming its missiles, General.’

‘What the hell?’ the General hit the desk. ‘That can’t be true! It wasn’t programmed to...’

‘Smart target recognition system has been activated, General,’ the helpless drone pilot reported. Pressing all the possible buttons, he tried everything to prevent the attack of the runaway drone. ‘It’s targeting this place with the following coordinates,’ and the operator gave a number sequence to the senior officers.

‘Let’s see it on the map,’ the General hurried him.

On the large screen, a map appeared, depicting a small black arrow unstoppably rushing toward a red dot. With mind-blowing speed, the drone was going flat out to its self-selected target.

‘Oh, we are lucky. There is nothing there,’ the lieutenant got a bit reassured after checking the coordinates on the chart.

At first, the General was a bit relieved, too, since the aim of the attack was a small hill in the middle of nowhere. But, his second thought was like a counterstrike, after he recognised the coordinates of the target to be demolished.

‘Send a self-destruction command to the Black Arrow. Right now!’ The loud shout of the General shook the thick concrete shield of the underground command centre as he tried to prevent the disaster.

‘Why, Sir? There is nothing...’

‘Do what I told you! Right now.’

‘We’ve got no connection, Sir. The drone is still operating autonomously.’

‘And how far is the combat air patrol? Tell the pilots that they must shot the damn drone off the sky!’

‘They’re thirty seconds away, General.’

‘Oh, my God. It’s too late.’

After each second, a new wrinkle was born around the General’s eyes as he was focusing on the screen to watch the mad aircraft. Flying faster than the speed of sound, the Black Arrow reached the chosen area.

Even the broadcasted flash of the explosion was so bright that it could illuminate the semi-dark room of the base. On the huge screen, the silent males and females could see the aftermath of the huge kaboom after the most modern bunker-buster missile fired from the drone scratched the target off the map. Now, in the place the COG bunker, nothing remained but a smoking blast crater and ruins, General Schmidt thought, burying his face in his hands.

From an artistic point of view, the large fireball rising from the ground zero toward the black velvet of the star-lit night sky could be called beautiful with its confluent red, yellow and black colours. But, a moment later, overshining the first blast, a much greater and brighter ball of light was born above the desert. Its glow blinded the eyes of the cameras as if a new Sun had risen.

Fulfilling its duty, the air-patrolling F-35 engaged its target and destroyed the runaway Black Arrow. Killed by a rocket, the drone blew up with its remaining five missiles on its board. Turning into hot dust and ashes in the detonation, the mad machine ceased to exist.

‘We’ve lost the Black Arrow, Sir,’ the drone pilot confirmed the elimination.

‘Ah, Black Arrow...,’ his boss replied. This partial success didn’t count any more.

Seeing the debacle, General Schmidt had grown older with years in the last minutes. Shaken, he turned away to leave the command centre. Murmuring, he knew that there were only two tasks left for him to do. The first one was to write a letter requesting his ‘voluntary’ retirement. Secondly, he had to create a report explaining how the pet project of the Air Force could fail so terribly.

‘Black Arrow? You should use the official code name,’ the General warned the drone pilot. ‘It was the Drone FR-13.’

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 2)     Next (Part 4)--> cast
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 3
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2: cast, Part 3: story, Part 4: cast

A reader's view:  "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Stories of this series: Day 1 --> Day 2 --> Day 3 --> Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 9 June, 2018
Loading...
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 2
Thursday the 12th, 8:59 p.m.

Well organised, the puzzle pieces slowly got into their right places. Mike reached into his pocket to take out the keys of the SUV. After he opened the door, following his advice, Julie occupied the back seat.

Carefully cradling the casted arm in her lap, Julie looked around. The inside of the car was ordinary, but for the pitch-black side windows. The outside world disappeared, and the only thing she was able to see was the dark reflections on the glass panes, mirroring a portrait of a worried woman, who was blessed with a soft collar and a long arm cast.

Mike turned on the radio to chase to silence away, however, under pressure, none of them could immerse in the pop music. After a two-hour ride, the SUV halted at a roadblock. What Julie saw this time, peering through the front windshield, pushed her pulse rate high. Lit by powerful floodlights, a reinforced gate crowned by barbed wires kept the uninvited people away. Right then, two soldiers with machine guns left the military checkpoint, stepping out of the darkness to walk around the vehicle.

‘What the hell it is?’ It was her first question after hours of quietness.

‘You’ll learn everything soon.’

Mike lowered the window to offer the soldiers their IDs and two additional sheets of documents. Checking the papers, one of the gunmen just waved, permitting Mike and Julie to enter the restricted area. After rolling on a dirt track for ten minutes, the SUV stopped again, and the driver killed the engine.

‘Finally. We’ve arrived,’ Mike told Julie, relieved, seeing that nine minutes left until Midnight. On the doormat of time, the Curse of Friday the 13th was waiting to stalk the helpless prey.

Getting to the terminus, Julie got out of the vehicle, and her feet landed into deep sand. Curiously, she turned around to work out where she could be, but that time was so late that she didn’t see anything else but the star-dotted night sky. Spotted with thirsty grass in the field shone by the car headlights, the dark waves of dunes embraced the lost couple.

‘With such an incredible effort, you’ve taken me into an empty military zone, where there is nothing to save me?’ Seeing the environs, Julie flashed around a disappointed look once more.

‘Yes, we are there,’ he answered, being proud of achieving seemingly nothing. The first smile of this day appeared on his face. ‘Please, go ahead to check the other side of the hill.’

Trusting him, Julie started to move to the mentioned direction. After some taking some steps, she could see a thing, which, usually, shouldn’t have been there at the bottom of a large sandy-rocky hill. The object, which stunned the female, was a huge steel gate being higher and wider than their SUV.

‘And this is only a side door.’ Mike’s unconcerned reply increased his wife’s amazement.

‘A door to where?’ Fascinated, Julie dared take a step toward to the fortified entrance, when Mike grabbed her hand to stop her.

‘To the most secret place of the world. But there’s a strict rule. I must blindfold you so that you can’t see the check-in process, the inner structures and the security codes.’

Out of a pocket, Mike took a piece of cloth to tie it around Julie’s head. Making her temporarily blind, the textile started to cover her eyes. This visionless state evoked the girl’s darkest fears again, questioning the good intention of her husband. But she calmed down when Mike touched her uncasted left hand, and he got moving to lead her into the depth of the mysterious place.

Blindfolded, she followed his steps. Walking with him, she heard the loud bang of the opening steel door. Entering the facility, she sensed their echoing footsteps as they moved on the uncarpeted floor of an empty corridor. Guided by Mike, she went into a small chamber, which unexpectedly began to move down.

In the lift cabin, Mike still firmly held her sweating hand. Getting out of the elevator, they walked along another corridor again. Then the couple stopped. She perceived the beeping feedbacks after Mike pressed the buttons to type a password on a panel. Next, there was a silent hiss as the electrical mechanism opened up a door. Hand in hand, Mike and Julie entered a room. Being artificially sightless, the girl took an unnecessary step just to bump into the male, who already ceased moving. Maybe, it was the journey’s end, the fruit of all effort of a strange day.

‘Can I remove the cloth?’ Julie asked. Her uncasted left arm was already moving up, hardly waiting for the confirmation.

‘Yes, you can,’ Mike told her.

So that he could help his wife, whom a long arm cast heavily impaired, Mike stepped closer, and his hands reached for the cloth to loosen the knot. Made slack, the piece of silk silently slid down and landed on the floor.

Freed from the temporary darkness, she removed the neck sling, too, in which the casted arm was suspended so far. She wanted to get rid of the sling for a long time since the heavy weight of the arm cast made her neck hurt, although it had a cushioned neck pad. Tossed down, the support bandage softly came down through the air, arriving just beside the thrown blindfolding cloth.

Enervated and sleepy, Julie took place by the table. With a careless movement, she dropped down the heavy cast-bound right arm onto the table. The unstrapped shoulder-to-wrist cast hit hard the wooden furniture with such a loud ‘bang’ that she feared that the shell would crack apart.

‘I’m sorry,’ Julie begged pardon for the unfortunate action. Now, the L-shaped cast was resting on the top of the desk, relieving her aching neck. Julie peered down at the medical encasement wrapping her limb. ‘If I would rebreak my right arm, would it be my fault? Or can I already blame the Curse?’

Just before Mike could answer her circuitous question about the exact time, the warning noise of three loud beeps spread across the air of the room. The countdown, which he had set, ended right then.

‘Is it midnight?’ Julie asked directly.

‘Salute the first seconds of the new Friday the 13th,’ Mike confirmed.

Sadly, he watched at the inflexible bandages, which made her slim arm so formlessly voluminous. The shell, which ran down from the armpit to the wrist, disabling both her elbow and wrist, was a heritage of the previous Friday the 13th. Being careful of her casted arm, Julie cosily leant back on the seat. At least, she learnt what time it was. Yet, she still didn’t know where she was taken to. She mapped the small room, again, which was furnished with simple-style pieces of furniture. A modest bed, a table and two chairs, and a small-screen TV set in the corner. Like a cheap half-star motel, which had just been looted. By taxmen.

‘Much ado about nothing,’ she shared her degrading review about the underground and underclass hotel room.

‘What about a re-evaluation?’ Mike smiled. ‘You’re in one of the safest places in the whole world, honey.’

Incented, Julie looked around once more to find a reason to change her mind. Yet, she didn’t understand what he was talking about.

‘This is a COG shelter,’ Mike revealed the secret.

‘I don’t feel like solving puzzles.’

‘This acronym means Continuity of Government. If a natural catastrophe or a weapon of mass destruction or anything else would decapitate the state, in other words, it would wipe out the whole government, the people here would take over the control, and they would continue the operation in the country. Julie, what you are allowed to see is just a simple room. But this facility is the headquarters of a so-called spare government.’

Not really believing him, Julie’s eyes got wide opened, but Mike remained serious.

‘You said “the people here”. What do you know about this shadow government?’ Julie asked, fearing that she wouldn’t like the answer.

‘It isn’t a shadow government. It’s a spare government. It’s different. The guys here aren’t planning any coup d’états. At least, I hope so... And my job here... It’s top secret. I’m a vendor of the DoD, but I can’t tell you anything more about it. In short, I’ve managed to build excellent connections with the senior level management. Just after the second Friday the 13th, I had an idea about how to help you. However, it took six hard months for me to receive the necessary permissions so that I can hide you here. Just a few people are privileged to be in this place.’

‘Where are we now exactly?’ Julie wanted to more. Her fingers nervously tapped the hard top of the long arm cast.

‘Of course, the exact location of this shelter is highly classified. So, I can’t give you GPS coordinates. That’s why we had to leave our phones at home, and this is why we had to change cars in the middle of the way. This is the reason why I had to blindfold you before you crossed the gate. Currently, it’s enough for you to know that we’re in the Sublevel Five. Above us, there’re more four floors, covered by a thirty-feet-thick dome of reinforced ferroconcrete. And finally, on the surface, another hundred feet of rock, soil and sand cap all this nice place.’

Hearing the description of the facility, Julie’s jaw dropped.

‘Sub... Sublevel Five? Concrete shields? And...?’

‘Yes, we are in the minus fifth floor. It was the deepest possible room into which I could get a ‘ticket’ for you today. The other levels below our feet are reserved for the permanent staff. But, unluckily, you’re a civil visitor only, and we can’t get any deeper. I’m sorry.’

‘Have you already been down there? And how many more levels...?’

‘I’d like to tell you everything but I can’t,’ Mike said. Then he reached out, and he placed his hand on Julie’s casted hand to prepare her to listen to something important. ‘And one more thing. For keeping the state secrets, you mustn’t walk up and down freely in the facility. You must stay here until Saturday the 14th morning.’

‘I swear that I am going to stay here,' she put her hand on her heart.

‘Sorry, Julie. Your oath isn’t enough for the ones, who run this place. They ordered that I must seal the door, and I must leave you here alone. No one can open the door in the next twenty-four hours.’

‘And you?’

‘Terribly sorry, but I can’t be with you.’

‘Why?’

‘Ask some Pentagon assholes. But the most important is that you can stay here, and you can survive this damn day unharmed.’

Being alone was a terrible thought for Julie. To put her mind at rest, Mike stood up to give her a good-bye kiss. Left there, Julie was sitting in her seat, collapsed. She was locked in a room, which was just a bit better than a prison cell. However, it was the price for her safety.

Ominously, the old wounds under the shoulder-to-wrist cast started to ache again. Thinking of caring for the injured arm, Julie tried to find a place, which could be more comfortable than a wooden desk. Maybe, what about lying on the bed and watching TV all the day? Seemingly, this time the boredom and not the Curse would torture her.

Already resting on the bed, she found an excellent place for the cast-bound arm, nesting the incapacitated limb onto a cushion. Peering at the grey ceiling, she started to feel safe, and the ice field of fears in her heart began to thaw.

Anyway, what the hell could happen to her in a government shelter, which was built deep under the ground? What machination of the Curse could penetrate into the safest place of the world?

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 1)     Next (Part 3)--> story
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 2
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2: cast, Part 3:

A reader's view:  "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Stories of this series: Day 1 --> Day 2 --> Day 3 --> Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 6 June, 2018
Loading...
The Curse of Friday the 13th
Day 3
Part 1
Thursday the 12th, 6:13 p.m.

‘We must get there until Midnight.’

What Mike said was full of unflinching determination, yet his fingers started to drum a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel. Pressed, he took his eyes off the road to glance at his wristwatch, which was set to countdown function. Though the car nicely consumed the miles, the time flew like a rocket. Non-stop, each second moved away at the speed of light. Mike feared that the remaining hours and minutes wouldn’t be enough for them to carry out the plan.

‘Get to where?’ Julie parroted the question, not for the first time since they had started the journey to the unknown.

‘Secrecy is important now. It was incredibly hard to arrange all this to protect you.’

‘Arrange what? And what is the destination? I swear that I’ll keep your secret,’ Julie said, and she theatrically put her casted hand on her heart.

‘I can’t do that. Even the walls have ears,’ he replied.

‘Oh, my gosh. There are no walls here. Not to mention buildings. We are in the middle of... Of what? Of nowhere?’ Julie guessed because the landscape was so unfamiliar. Just to show the deserted place to her husband, she stretched out her hands so vehemently that she almost hit the casted right hand against the side windshield. ‘This morning, you freaked me out when you made me leave my mobile phone at home for some security reason.’

‘I don’t want them to track us.’

‘Them? Adam and Eve Nilrem?

Since the answer was as clear as day, Mike just pressed a nervous ‘ahem’ through his lips. Even pronouncing the names of the evil twins made his blood boiling.

‘Do you really think that they would hire mercenaries to break my bones just to push me into a full body cast again? Don’t you believe that the Curse can be real? And if it is real, we cannot escape from it, and...’

‘Please, don’t talk about it. Please, please, please.’ Mike begged, secretly fearing that she could be right. However, if she were right that meant that the smart plan, which he had forged so hard to save Julie from the next full body cast, would certainly fall. Mulling over this unliked outcome, he broke out in a sweat though he was swept around by the nice breeze of air-conditioning.

Julie got silent, too, and turned away. Slowly, the dully repeating patterns of the sparse bushland, which grew alongside the empty highway, hypnotised her, and the monotonous noise of the car engine nearly lulled the bored female to sleep. But worrying was a mighty counterforce, which kept her vigilant. Going through two terrible Fridays the 13th, Julie was open to accepting the existence of supernatural happenings. Mike was a good and brave man, but, unlike her, he was sceptically earthbound.

To recall how her story had started, Julie was thinking of the eccentric billionaire Adam and his sister. Allegedly, the damn Eve was a witch, who had cursed Julie because of a stupid but costly mistake she had made to her brother. Before these troubled years, Julie had been a corporate lawyer with a hopeful career outlook, but the Curse had derailed her life. Since this multi-million-dollar error, she had gone through two series of horrible accidents, and she had survived two full body casts, as well.

Anomalously, both of these disasters had happened to her on two consecutive Fridays the 13th. From a mystical point of view, it had to be a categorical Curse.

But, from the point of view of common sense... it had been so different. All the doctors who had put Julie into full body cast, and all the nurses who had wiped the dust off her medical shell, had one thing in common. Each of them had insisted on a logical explanation: the Curse of Friday the 13th does not exist, and all that had happened to Julie had to be a fatal concerto of incidentals mutually acting upon each other.

Anyway, from Julie’s frog-perspective, the rules of the cruel game were madly simple. Until the midnight of each Friday the 13th, she had to suffer a series of accidents, crashes and incidents, which broke, crushed and mangled of all her bones. During this bewildering sequence of events, Julie received different kind of casts to cure the fractured body parts. Thus, as the disasters unceasingly came after each other, she got more and more casts. The envelopment laid around her body became bigger and bigger... and finally, just before midnight, and after several mishaps, Julie found herself in an impenetrable shell, which firmly trapped and softly embraced each part of her body, including the face, too.

On the infamous Fridays the 13th, Julie had been doomed to be a captive of a full body cast, turning into a motionless and speechless mummy buried alive in the stone-hard and body-shaped sarcophagus. After spending months locked within the integument, she had heard the buzzing sounds of cast saws, which had been working hard to remove some parts of the shell to cut new windows between the captured patient and everybody in the outer world.

As the weeks and months had passed, the cast coverage had decreased. The oversized double shoulder spica casts had turned into a pair of modest arm casts, and the enormous head-wrapping Minerva cast had become a smaller Risser rind running up to the jawline to fix the neck. In the next stage, the body cast had shrunken into a cast-corset mantling merely the trunk. Meanwhile, the disabling double hip spica cast had been cut back into walking casts, as well.

Having freed from the full body cast, and having gone through long and tiring sessions of rehabilitation training, Julie could leave the bed to ride a wheelchair. Months later, she had learnt how to walk again, clumsily leaning on a walking frame, or stumbling with her crutches.

But, hopelessly, just by the time she could have fully recovered from the wounds, which the first Friday the 13th had caused to her, the second Friday the 13th had arrived to destroy, pushing her into a downward spiral, which had ended, of course, in a full body cast.

Thinking of her life, which the Curse had split in two, she recalled what filled her timetable nowadays: she spent most of her life in casts, wholly moulded around in rigid layers, tossed down in a motionless, separated and completely dull state, deprived of almost everything that makes life life. And, in the remaining short cast-less weeks between her full body casts, she had to fearfully wait for the next Friday the 13th to come, with its new series of accidents, and she had to welcome a brand new all-encompassing medical shell, which this Cursed Day would kindly provide to her.

Terrifyingly for Julie and Mike, the following day would be Friday the 13th again, although the previous Cursed Day seemed to be so close in time. The painful aftermath of the second Friday the 13th could be found in not only her memory but also the events had left their serious mark on her broken body. The last remaining part of the latest full body cast was a long arm cast and a soft neck collar because the time between the second and the third Friday wasn’t long enough for these body members to heal.

To protect the unsound right arm, she wore a white shell woven from pure fibreglass tissue, which tightly surrounded the limb from the armpit down to the wrist. The LAC was angled at the elbow, forming a huge white letter L with this ninety-degree bend. Compensating the handcuff-like restriction, its inside was amply padded.

The second thing, which could evoke the worst memories, was a soft collar encircling her neck. Though the spongy material was like an overgrown and uncomfortable piece of neckwear, and she could move her neck in a bit restricted way, having this neck brace was a much better feeling than being confined in an inflexible Minerva cast, which she hated the most. Being an appearance-conscious woman, Julie tried to keep at least a bit of elegance even in trouble: she had put a coloured silk scarf around her neck to conceal the big neck brace. Vainly, she had thought, seeing the result in a mirror. The soft collar had remained noticeable, and everybody had kept asking what had happened to her, eyeing curiously at the long arm cast and the collar embracing her.

How can life such unfair to me? – she contemplated.

With her healthy fingers, Julie started to rub the rough surface of the big cast confining the other hand. Despite being broken and cast-covered, she had to face a soon-arriving accident series again. Awakening from her thought, Julie sensed that the car engine changed its rocking rhythm. Slowing down, the vehicle left the highway to turn to an exit.

‘Where are we going?’ Julie asked while cradling the casted arm on her lap. Really, she got bored with the long car ride, which had already taken half a day.

‘You’ll see.’

‘You can tell me more.’

‘I can’t tell you anything more until we get there.’

Julie was about to ask a question about the destination but she got the answer after the car went around the next bend.

The last rays of the setting sun casted lengthy and distorted shadows on the abandoned place. A rusty board welcomed the guest to an empty airport, however, even in its heydays, this junk heap hadn’t been a busy hub but a dusty, narrow and short airstrip only. Was it really the place to where Mike would have liked to go?

For a split of a second, a scaring thought dug its long claws into Julie’s soul. What if Mike got tired of seeing her in a full body cast all the time, and non-stop caring her wounds? What if he took her here just to get rid of her in this faraway place, where no witness could see what happened to them. And, after getting home, Mike could easily say that his poor wife had died during a desert tour. No, that would be too horrible to be true. Mike wouldn’t be able to do something like this. Or would he? Encouraging herself, Julie managed to chase the dirty script away.

Meanwhile, Mike stopped the car in front of the weatherworn building, which used to be a small terminal a long time ago. Getting out of the white Ford, he walked toward the house. Julie, too, got out, slammed the door to follow her husband.

‘This is the place where you wanted to get to?’ she asked again.

‘Not exactly. This is just a necessary intermediate stop.’ Sparing the word, he remained untalkative.

With her healthy arm, Julie tried to cover the casted limb to prevent the wind from blowing sand below the arm cast, fearing that it would be nervously itchy. Mike kept walking, but he didn’t go into the abandoned terminal.

After bypassing the building, Julie saw a brand-new SUV behind the collapsed block. In spite of waiting for them in the dusty yard, its dark windows and black bodywork were absolutely clean, so it had been parking there for a couple of hours merely. Finding it there, Mike showed no sign of surprise, so the car was a firm part of his plan – Julie concluded.

‘Have you bought another car?’ she inquired.

‘No, they lend it to us,’ he closed the short conversation. ‘We can’t use ours because it can be tracked. We are not allowed to enter the area in our own car.’

Knowing that he wouldn’t give any clear answer, Julie didn’t ask the next rightful question about who these mysterious people could be. Forgetting all her fears about the menacing Friday the 13th, she felt herself like an unknowing player in a conspiracy.

to be continued

<--Previous (Part 14 of the Day 2)     Next (Part 2)--> cast
The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 1
Story summary: Mike and Julie are despairingly looking for any help on the Earth (even under the ground) or in heaven to save her from being put into a full body cast for the third time. Can she hide from the Curse? Or should she fight it? Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: cast, Part 2:

A reader's view:  "Great story with a wonderful final twist!" (comment by goblin775)

Personal note:
story No. 8. What began as a black comedy, it turned into a desperate fight. Who can help them? The army, the church or a wizard?

Other stories of this series: Day 1    Day 2     Day 4

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 2 June, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 14

‘Please, come in. Ms Marshall is ready to meet you.’

The assistant opened the door wide to let the guest in. Although the visitor was prepared for finding Mia in big casts, yet, her feet rooted to the floor, and she expressed a muffled ‘Holy Cow!’, seeing that the miserable occupant of the room was wrapped in such an enormous and thick shell, which filled up each bit of the cushioned seat of the reinforced wheelchair.

Although Mia had been exposed just for a short time to the malicious mistreatment, which Dr Vaughn had secretly done to her helpless patient, the cruel care had left its severe and lasting marks on her health state. The conditions had turned from ‘bad’ into ‘worse’, and the recent casts embracing Mia’s body were much more extensive than the first ones she had received when she had been checked to hospital. The wheelchairbound female’s figure was entirely moulded around in an overlapping collection of casts, which captured and restricted each part of her body. Tightly laid bandages encircled the whole head, but for two small portholes left for the eyes. Besides, there was a joint gap for the nostrils, and there was a tiny pinhole over the mouth, too, used as a port into which a feeding tube could be inserted.

Perfectly freezing her, the torso cast was so extensive that it surrounded the neck, and plastered both of the arms. The upper limbs were adjusted in two different and changeless poses, as the left arm was confined in a Velpeau cast, which immobilised the limb, pressing it the closest possible to the casted chest wall, while a traditionally positioned shoulder spica cast kept firmly the other one, elevated at shoulder level, propped up by a thick bar running between the wrapped wrist and the bandaged body.

The immense cast outfit seamlessly followed Mia’s shape, highlighting the nice forms of the breasts. The lower part of her body was confined in a made-to-order double hip spica cast. To have some privacy, a blanket laid over the middle part hid the loins as well as some parts of the medical rind, too, however, both of the leg casts attached to the DHS were on display. Sticking out like a white horizontal tube, the right leg covered in a straight long leg cast rested on the cushioned plastic leg rest of the wheelchair. Differing from it, the shell imprisoning the left leg was flexed in a right angle at the knee, so the limb and the casted foot occupied a footrest.

Compactly contained in the rigid integument, Mia had to be absolutely reliant on the help of her assistant in all the time. While being wholly embraced in the cocoon, she wasn’t able to do the slightest movement, furthermore, she was deprived of the ability to speak. To overcome this difficulty, a speech synthesiser device was mounted on the armrest of the wheelchair. Peering through the eyeholes at a small black-and-white screen, Mia could pick up letters and phrases to build up sentences.

‘Hello, hooker. I thought that you were rotting in prison,’ an artificial female voice greeted the visitor via a speaker after Mia selected the right symbols.

‘You should show more respect to me,’ Georgia Sanders replied. The style she used was self-confident but not as haughty as it used to be. Hiding both of her hands behind her back, she stood near the wheelchair in which the stranded mummy was sitting. ‘You’ve missed a lot of developments since Dr Vaughn locked you down in a full body cast.’

‘For example?’ Mia asked through the speech device.

‘Firstly, I was the one, who provided this absolutely Joanna-free place for you. So, please feel welcome in one of the wonderful apartments of the St. Helen’s Nursing Home! Secondly, I’ve become the designated district attorney. Formally, I take office when these damn things are gone, and I can move my fingers so that I can sign documents.’

Saying it, Georgia removed her arms from their hiding place behind her back to show them to Mia. Now, an identical pair of short arm casts protected both of her forearms, solidly flowing down from the elbow down to the tips of the fingers. The heavy wrappings included all the eight digits and the two thumbs, as well, creating such massive dressings, which looked like a pair of boxing gloves.

‘You can’t deceive me with your fake casts once again.’

‘These are real ones,’ Georgia grimaced as she accidentally hit the cast-wrapped right arm against her body. Really, she tried to move the limbs in a manner in which she could spare her injured extremities from being exposed to any more suffering. Then she mumbled to herself: ‘I should have used neck slings.’

‘Oh, it sounds serious.’

‘Yes, it is. Ask any doctors or nurses here. Or call Annabelle if you don’t believe me. Long-lasting going-away gifts from Carlo, given me just before he escaped to the Bahamas. He heard that I met Director Bollinger, then...’

However, Mia didn’t feel like listening to the visitor’s complains about her arm-and-finger casts. Though they were uncomfortable and restricting, they were far smaller compared to the oversized shell, which encased Mia’s figure from top to down.

‘You told me that you freed me. But it was the officers of the Organised Crime Unit, who arrested the Joannas.’

‘Oh, can you guess who the source of information was?’ Georgia laughed a bit, this time pressing the casted arms tightly against her abdomen. ‘As soon as I heard the name of the doctor, who was assigned to treat you, I figured out what was happening to you. But already two weeks were enough for the Joannas to push you into a full body cast... By the way, all that happened to you made great waves even in the highest level of politics. The government wants to send Director Bollinger in retirement because of the holey security screening he used. Of course, he’ll get his award for the victory over the organised crime, but the politicians will never forgive him that he couldn’t notice what was happening to a national hero behind his back.’

‘I haven’t heard anything about it before.’

‘Because it’ll never be published in the newspapers. And there is something more. It’s said that your friend Annabelle Fisher can be the next head of the Organised Crime Unit.’

‘Wow,’ Mia appreciated Annabelle’s achievement. ‘So, you’ve changed sides to help me and to make good all the damage you made to the people.’

‘You misinterpret it. I was never allied with the Mafia. As I told you, I never change side because I’m always loyal to the winning side. And this time, you were the winner and not the Calabrese family.’

‘And in turn, were you picked out to be the new district attorney?’

‘You think that I’m the most evil criminal but I was the least guilty in that sh*thole, I mean in the office of the district attorney. My boss and most of my colleagues were arrested, and I was left almost alone in the whole building. And the OCU needed for somebody with knowledge of the place, and I didn’t commit anything that couldn’t have been pardoned, especially after I revealed all the information I had about the organised crime.’

‘Ah, smartly they set a thief to catch a thief. But I think that you are not here to chat about your latest carrier turn.’

‘That’s true. The renewed office terribly needs for a truthful and famous person, who can represent us in the front of public.’

‘Do you really want me to be your spokesperson?’ The artificial voice couldn’t echo the astonishment that the real Mia felt.

‘I think about a more important position for you. I’d like you to be the head of the public relation office. Please, help me to be a ray of hope in this dark city – as you foresee it.’

‘This is a great honour. Really. However, I can’t accept it because an even better job was offered to me. From the next month, I’ll be the chief editor of The Local Herald.’

‘And what about Mr Taylor?’

‘He has resigned. But I’d like to keep him there as an advisor for a while. Perhaps, for a long while... until I get out of this full body cast. After the fall of the Mafia, he told me that he was too compromised to lead the journalists in the new era. Though he didn’t commit any serious crimes, he was deeply involved in the net of the gangsters so that he could financially back his sister Cynthia.’

‘The money tap is turned off,’ Georgia sighed, thinking of the troubled life of the burnt amputee. ‘No more surgeries for her.’

‘Anyway, it was the highest time for Jonathan to stop. He had to accept the sad fact that he couldn’t restore the face of his beloved sister, no matter how much money he would pour into her operations. However, I think that Cynthia finally found happiness after meeting and marrying a man, who loves her as she is.’

‘That’s good to hear. Welcome to the new epoch!’ Georgia said. Seemingly, she was ready to leave.

‘Georgia!’ Mia stopped her. ‘What if a new crime family emerges? Will you leave us to serve the new top dogs?’

‘Who knows?’ Hearing the question, Georgia didn’t turn around, but she didn’t step through the door, either. ‘However, you already know the answer because you know me.’

‘I’ll always keep an eye on you,’ Mia warned her in a manner, which was partly mocking and partly serious.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

The End

cast <--Previous (Part 13)     Would you like to read another story?-->
Mia and the Mafia, Part 14
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 23 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 13

‘I’m terribly sorry for everything that happened to you, Ms Marshall. It all was my fault.’

Not only the words of the head of the Organised Crime Unite were sad, but also he looked miserable, indeed. Apologising, Mr Bollinger virtually kneeled down by the bed cradling the heavily casted patient to beg her pardon. Replying to his tear-jerking mea culpa, Mia could moan some incomprehensible voices to accept (or to reject?) the belated expression of regret.

‘I underestimated the gangster’s will and competence. If I had known that the Mafia is still hunting for you, I would have sent bodyguards to protect you,’ he went on listing the errors he had made.

Hearing that the OCU Director blamed the Mob for putting her into these big casts, Mia tried to whisper despairingly the name, which all the attackers shared: Joanna Vaughn:
‘Whowhawha whauwh.’

Mia fought hard, yet she was able to press a series of unclear speech sounds through the obstacle course built over and around her mouth. Unluckily, the lower part of her face was like a busy junction, where any possible stuff was applied to bound her tightly-wired lips: there was branch of braces sandwiched between the crisscrossing layers of bandages, topped by the solid stratum of casts. Moreover, the tiny gap cut in the thick face cast and some missing teeth didn’t make the situation any easier.

‘Please, don’t be upset, Ms Marshall, you’re in a safe place,’ Mrs De Luca stepped closer to the bed accommodating the heavily injured patient, who was treated in a gigantic cast covering. ‘We’ll do everything to catch those bastards, who are responsible for this brutal act of violence.’

‘Yes, indeed, Mrs De Luca is right,’ Mr Bollinger nodded. ‘However, it won’t be easy to arrest Carlo and his men. Although the surveillance cameras didn’t work because the criminals used some kind of signal jammers, Mrs De Luca’s description of them helped us a lot. Surely, the driver was Carlo’s right-hand man. Well, they stole a taxi to take you away so that they could take a cruel revenge on you in a secret place. And after three days of captivity, they threw you out of a car in front of a hospital in the middle of the night. Both the taxi and the second car were stolen, with a false licence plate number.’

Mia groaned again to disprove the story, recalling the horrible days she had spent with the four Joannas. During these seventy-two hours, she had suffered more injuries than while having been in the Section B.

‘Sir, I should have been more suspicious. But, at that time, everything seemed so normal and...,’ award-deserving, Joanna played well the self-blaming secretary.

‘I was my fault,’ the boss told them again. ‘Of course, everything seemed normal for everybody until Ms Marshall was kidnapped.’

‘Whowhawha whauwh (Joanna Vaughn),’ Mia attempted to scream the name to confute the tale that befogged the director’s mind.

‘Doctor, I think the patient needs more medication.’ Saying it kindly, Mrs De Luca turned around to call the attention of the surgeon behind them, trying to put Mia to sleep before someone could manage to decode what the patient said.

Confused, even the director of the Organised Crime Unit sought for a translator. But Dr Haas, the medical director, too, simply stretched out his hand to gesture his perplexity. No one in the room could grasp what the mummy-wrapped patient attempted to message them.

‘Considering the outrage, of course, we’ll postpone the award ceremony, however, I’d like to give you the certificate,’ Mr Bollinger said.

Perplexed, he looked at the mummy-wrapped female, then he carefully placed the sheet of document onto a small cabinet beside Mia’s bed. Cast-frozen, she could see merely the beautiful golden-coloured frame being just on the edge of her restricted field of view.

Understandably, Mia wasn’t too deeply interested in getting the award to prove that she was the bravest female in the country. (Secretly, she felt that she had set a new record by being the most broken female of the country.) In real, she merited it, because she had been gone through rather tough things when she had defied the pressure of the Mafia for so many years. But during this time, everything had been different since her bones had been sound and healthy even if she had been swathed in a full shell.

In some respect, the Joannas had acted more mercilessly than Carlo or Dr Byrd. As a result of a bad beating, big and extensive pieces of surgical integument fastened most of her figure to stabilise the injured body parts. Though she had received excellent painkillers, Mia felt surged away in the spring tide of pain. Immersed in the waves of hardly bearable throbbings, her broken body agonisingly pulsated in the tight cocoon after each beat of her heart, and after each breath of air. Torturingly, even blinking was painful, as the aching came from some very deep province of her mind, imprinted into the subconscious part.

Driven by their anger, the four Joannas had made a perfect work while Mia had been their punch bag. Actually, the number of the casts wrapping Mia wasn’t too much. It was merely three. However, their size was enormous.

Holding Mia in a completely stiff pose, the main mass of shell was an amalgamation incorporating a Minerva cast, a shoulder spica cast and a hip spica cast. Starting from the top of the head, the spheroid head cast captured the whole skull and overlaid most of the face, as well, transforming her head into something looking like a white ball. The rigidly placed hard dressings swaddled not only the forehead, but they arched over the broken nose, too, as well as they plastered the cheeks and the jaw.

Mia was able to keep open only the left eye since the other wounded one was treated beneath several layers consisting of an eye patch, heavy cast paddings and an outer hard cast layer, which covered the right part of her face. On the mask-cast, tiny holes bored above the nostrils allowed her to breathe. To feed her through the wired-fixed mouth, there was a narrow gap left on the face cast.

Flowing down, the head cast divided into a body cast and a shoulder spica cast, which totally disabled the right arm. Kept high at shoulder level, the embedded arm was flexed at the elbow, and the palm was vertically positioned toward a point at the ceiling just above their head. Mia’s shoulder spica cast was so bulky and heavy that the surgeon had had to apply a bar to fix its pose.

Relatively surviving the trashing, the left arm wasn’t as seriously injured as the other one, however, it was in a just slightly better state. Instead of being frozen in a shoulder spica cast, the left arm was encased in a straight long arm cast running from the armpit down to the fingertips. The LAC enshrouded all the fingers and even the thumb, having a roughly shaped ending strikingly similar to a kitchen glove. This upper limb was stretched out, and it was suspended in a sling that tenderly yet strictly cuddled this wounded body member in a horizontal position.

Being an inseparable part of the continuous coverage, a perfectly fitting body cast mantled the entire torso from the neck to the pelvis, seamlessly fading into the hip spica cast. The lowest part of the overlapping bandages compactly imprisoned the pelvis and confined the entire left leg, which peacefully lied on the bed, unelevated. Casted between the thigh and the ankle, the firm set of the hard gauzes seemed to be a separate long leg cast, however, it was just a part of the hip spica cast.

Similarly to the left arm, the right leg sported its own individual cast, which was a short leg cast, wrapping the wounded body part from the knee to the foot, including all the toes. Pulled up in the air, the right leg clang in a sling motionlessly hanging at the end of a tense traction rope, counterbalanced by a heavy lead weight attached to the other end of the wire system. To keep the legs apart, and to hold the elevated leg in the upright position, there was an unusually long spread bar applied between the ankles.

‘Bastards, cruel bastards,’ the Director of the Organised Crime Unit whispered silently, shocked by the sight of the gigantic casts engulfing Mia.

‘Mr Bollinger, I think that it’s the highest time to leave and to let Ms Marshall have some rest,’ Dr Haas intervened after stepping forward.

‘Okay, but allow me to ask a couple of questions, Doctor. Especially, about Ms Marshall’s recovery.’

‘The patient was relatively fortunate, as applying cast was enough to stabilise the injuries, and we didn’t need to engineer an external fixator system. With our dedicated staff, I think that three months would be enough for Ms Marshall to leave this bed. She could ride a wheelchair, however, she’s going to be full-body-casted for a long time. And then...’

‘This is more than enough, Doctor.’ Mr Bollinger waved his hand to stop him. ‘I’m not really interested in hearing all these technical details. Please, promise me that you’re going to provide a very special care for a national hero.’

‘Of course, we’ll do our best,’ the doc nodded. ‘I’ve already assigned a special team, and tasked one of our experienced surgeons to lead this group.’

As if the last words had been her cue to call her in, the designated doctor entered. All the people in the room turned around to see her, except for Mia, whose restricting casts allowed her only to hear the noise of the opening door.

To greet the mummy-like patient, the newly arrived doctor sent a friendly smile to Mia. Unsettled, she put the files down, then she nervously checked her long black hair in a bun, next she pushed back the pair of spectacles with fashion dark frame up to the bridge of her nose.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said uncertainly, carrying the collection of Mia’s thick medical case files in her hands.

Although Mia was one-eyed now, and her field of view was narrowed down by her damn tiny eyehole, and by the Minerva cast helmeting her head, soon she was able to see the female doctor, who would take care of her in the next months. On the top of that, Mia’s sight was a bit blurred, as well, yet she felt that the new medic was somewhat familiar.

‘Let Ms Marshall be your top priority.’ Dr Haas kindly reminded the expert, gesturing at the nearly mummy-wrapped patient.

‘Of course, Sir,’ she replied.

The medical director nodded, afterwards he moved closer, and, to give Mia encouragement, he put his hand on the confining cast armour, which kept the girl’s broken bones together. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands. Please, let me introduce your new personal caregiver: she is called Dr Joanna Miller Vaughn.’

to be continued

bandages <--Previous (Part 12)      Next (Part 14)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 13
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 16 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 12

‘It’s an honour for me to meet the bravest female of this country,’ Mr Bollinger said.

As soon as the head of the Organised Crime Unit entered the hospital room, he walked fast to greet Mia, whose wheelchair had just rolled away from the bed.

‘You shouldn’t say such a huge exaggeration about me, Sir,’ Mia replied humbly, however, she liked being praised.

‘An exaggeration? You cannot say that, Ms Marshall!’ Mr Bollinger protested. ‘Except for you, there was nobody else, who could survive the feared Section B for such a long time without making a deal with the Mafia! Oh, can you name anyone who has spent two years in a full body cast, defying the evil forces of the Mob, and all those bastards working for them? And, after that, you had to risk your life and undertake such a huge sacrifice to be free and to help us to defeat the organised crime. Miss Marshall, you haven’t got any reason to be modest. You’re the newest hero of our nation!’

Although his words sounded cheesy, Mia knew that Mr Bollinger’s appreciation was appropriate, as she had gone through very troubling times. First of all, Annabelle’s radical plan had worked. Though the guards of the Section B had reacted to put out the fire very quickly, Mia’s injuries had been serious enough so that she could be airlifted to a special burn centre.

Tortured by the terrible wounds, she had been hardly able to stammer the word ‘Phoenix’. But no one listened to her. Jumping around the table of the ICU, the doctors and nurses had been busy with peeling off the burnt remnants of her full body cast, trying to prepare the patient for the first operation. Simply, they thought that Mia had been delirious, partly due to the crucifying pain, partly because of the medication applied to numb the unbearable throbbing.

Despaired, Mia had thought that she had been suffering for nothing, as most of the staff had been deaf to the out-of-context expression. Except for one person. Mia’s fading voice had triggered Nurse Meyer, who had known what to do.

In her next clear moment, Mia had already found herself in a military hospital, waking up from her drug-induced sleep, which had taken two weeks. She had felt so weak and tortured. Opening her eyes, she had seen the lights, paled by the plastic layer. The thing, which had been around her bed, had been an oxygen tent, similar to the one she had seen in a nightmare a  long time ago. Yet, any other things had been different: she had had all the limbs, although most of her body, especially her legs, had been thickly swathed in several layers of bandages.

Strangely, Mia was a bit grateful for the body cast, in which she had been taken captive in the Section B since the thick medical armour could save her from the worst. Though her legs had seriously burnt, her outlook to a full recovery was almost 100-percent-guaranteed.

Due to the first-class treatment, she was allowed to leave the hospital just after three months of treatment. Even the bandages wrapping her body had been significantly reduced. Mia’s previous mummy-like stage had turned into the state, in which merely her legs were heavily bandaged.

Tight layers of soft medical dressings encircled both of the lower limbs, starting from the tight and enshrouding completely each part of the legs up to the tips of the toes. However, the long skirt she wore almost disguised the injured body members, which were lying on the softly-padded leg rests of the wheelchair. Thus Mr Bollinger could see the bulkily-bound feet, which projected out of the rim of the skirt, wedged around with soft cushions.

‘I was told that you can check out of hospital,’ Mr Bollinger said.

‘I’ll be an ambulant patient. So, I must come back to be checked every day, but I don’t need to stay here all the time,’ Mia said happily, as she was fed up with being in medical institutions. Then she added, sighing: ‘Years in casts, plus more months in bandages. Not too easy times.’

‘Just tell me what we can do for you, and you’ll be given anything,’ he said. ‘All the resources of our health care system are available for you to support your recovery, Miss Marshall.’

‘Oh, thank you very much, Sir, but I think that I get everything I need: excellent treatment, medication, hydrotherapy. The experts told me that I’ll get a compression garment for the legs, and I can start to walk within weeks.’

‘Maybe, the good news can comfort you. Using the information stockpiled in your database, we’ve managed to strike the Mafia. We’ve raided your city to arrest the members of the Mob. Honestly, hardly any free people left there. That town was like a nest of crime. Almost all the judges, lawyers, attorneys, cops and agents had to be detained. Unfortunately, there are some criminals, who could escape and are still out there, like Carlo, the Cast-maker. But I bet that they won’t be crazy enough to come here to hurt you. All in all, there was only one person in the city, who was brave enough to defy all...’

‘Maybe, there was a second one, too. Do you know Detective Annabelle Fisher?’

‘Of course. After Ms Fisher was released from hospital, she came here. I myself saw her lobbying for a throughout investigation,’ Mr Bollinger recalled his memories about the female cop, who had met him in the OCU Headquarters, while she had been confined in wheelchair, draped in a single-piece tight cast from toes to neck. ‘But my predecessor didn’t believe her. Luckily, the worst is over, and there’s an award ceremony tomorrow to celebrate your courage and commitment, Ms Marshall.’

‘Thank you, Sir, but I don’t think that I’ll take part in the party after the ceremony,’ Mia said, looking sadly at her densely bandaged legs, which terribly needed for rest.

‘That’s understandable. By the way, where will you stay? I can offer you a free room in one of our houses reserved for the guests.’

‘No, thanks, Sir. I’ll be at my sister’s place, who lives near here.’

‘That’s great. Then my secretary will show the way out to the taxi.’ Saying it, he turned back to call the assistant into the room. ‘Right, Mrs De Luca?

Hearing the Italian name, Mia shivered. Mr Bollinger noticed the involuntary tremble.

‘Oh, you mustn’t be afraid, Ms Marshall. My secretary isn’t a member of the Mob. I'd put my hand into the fire for her. She’s got a security clearance, too, and, more importantly, she hates them because she was a victim of the irrational cruelty of the Mafia, like you.’

‘That is true, Sir,’ Mrs De Luca confirmed his words. ‘I’ll help Miss Marshall with pleasure.’

Just before Mrs De Luca stepped into the room, she reached for a walking stick leant against the wall of the corridor. Really, the stick wasn’t a weird piece of fashion accessories, as she terribly needed for the support of the walking aid. As the medium-height, blonde female with rimless glasses came closer to Mia’s wheelchair, Mia noticed that she was limping heavily. Actually, none of her limbs worked perfectly, but she was mostly dragged by her unsound left leg.

Trudging across the room, Mrs De Luca’s steps were far from rhythmical and symmetrical. Obviously, a serious incident must have happened to this female some years ago. Maybe, Mrs De Luca had been encased in big casts, whose size could be compared to mine – Mia assumed. Perhaps, the secretary, being an ex-wheelchairbound person, generously wanted to help one of her fellow-sufferers. Beaming, Mrs De Luca happiness wasn’t pretended as she was approaching Mia.

‘Sir, may I have a suggestion?’ Mrs De Luca asked. ‘I think that Ms Marshall should leave the building through the back entrance. The main gate is surrounded by a lot of journalists, hardly waiting for her to appear.’

Mr Bollinger just nodded to acknowledge the wish. Longing for peace, even Mia wouldn’t have liked to be in the crossfire of flashbulbs. So, escorted by the Organised Crime Unit director’s secretary, Mia’s wheelchair rolled out of the room. The whirring sound of the wheelchair’s engine mixed with the weird rhythm of Mrs De Luca’s uneven footsteps, while they were heading to the backdoor of the medical complex, wandering along a long hallway.

‘You’re said to be the bravest woman of this country, Ms Marshall,’ Mrs De Luca mentioned, just before turning to the last corridor toward the backdoor. ‘Maybe, you’ll be the Woman of the Year.’

Undeniably, Mia liked to hear this new epithet. Woman of the Year – it sounded so cool. Yet, she gave a humble reply: ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Nor do I. Both of us know that this heroine, this idol, this greatest woman has pushed four innocent females into full body casts while she was playing her stupid war with the Mafia,’ Mrs De Luca told her.

After the claim coming out of nowhere, the unrhythmical steps ceased echoing in the corridor, as the secretary stopped to stand still right behind the wheelchair to prevent Mia from rolling backwards.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Mia cried out, as she tried to turn back.

‘My maiden name is Joanna Vaughn,’ she hissed the words. ‘I was the Joanna in the Red Full Body Cast. Those bastards you sent to me smashed all my bones into tiny pieces. I was stuck in a full body cast with full body external fixators for more than one and a half years. Later, I had to undergo a terribly painful physiotherapy. My old fiancé left me because he was fed up with seeing me in the big shell all the time. I looked like a mummy, and he couldn’t even talk to me, not to mention having sex with me... Fortunately, a surgeon married me after he rebuilt my skeleton. I had a baby too, and I relearnt to walk at the same month, when my child took her first steps, too. You broke my whole life in two because of your useless lie about some fabricated Joanna Vaughn.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs De L... Joanna. I myself have spent years...,’ Mia said.

However, cornered, she felt that anything she would tell her would be futile. The corridor was abandoned, also. The unforgiving secretary grabbed the handle of the wheelchair, and she moved it forward through the backdoor of the building. In the foggy backyard behind the complex, Mia saw three more figures standing around a taxi-like vehicle.

Mia expected to meet Carlo, the Cast-maker. Contrarily, the director of the Organised Crime Unit was right: Mrs De Luca hadn’t changed sides. The ones, who were waiting for Mia, didn’t belong to the Mafia. All the three people Mia saw there was a female. Different ages, different faces, different races. Young and middle-aged. Blonde, brown and black. Small and tall.

‘I think it’s unnecessary to introduce these ladies. We all are Joanna Vaughn,’ Mrs De Luca said, while kept pushing the wheelchair toward the vengeful group of amazons. 'Please be invited for a free ride with us.'

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 11)     Next (Part 13)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 12
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandagesPart 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 12 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 11

The darkness cowardly departed after a friendly beam of light poured into the room, which was a medical chamber and a prison cell at the same time. Due to her hard-and-fast pose, Mia couldn’t see the person who entered and turned the lamps on. But she knew that the visitor wasn’t Dr Byrd, as she didn’t hear his familiar, hurrying footsteps. Instead of a single shadow, the light of the lamps drew two grey shapes on Mia’s cast-tied figure. The noises they made revealed a lot about the nature of the visitors.

Curiously, Mia listened to the silent buzz of the electric wheelchair, and the slow steps of the one, who escorted the disabled companion. Though the helmet cast perfectly kept Mia’s head straight, soon she could see the guests as they crossed the border of her stiffened field of view.

The wheelchairbound visitor was Cynthia. Being blind, burnt and limbless, the girl settled in the well-padded seat, held by a wide safety belt, which ran across her chest from the right shoulder to the left part of the abdomen. Bizarrely, the multiply-disabled and quad-amputee young female with her artificial limbs seemed more mobile than the healthy Mia, who was completely contained in the rigid medical shell called full body cast.

‘Oh, what a surprise! I thought that this place was hermetically sealed!’ Mia greeted her honorary sister and the assistant. Mia’s arms, cast-frozen in an undone hug weirdly suited to the happiness she felt after the unlooked-for reunion.

‘We heard that Dr Byrd isn’t here, and one of the guards is Nick’s old friend. So, it was a good occasion for us to sneak in,’ Cynthia said.

While Cynthia’s wheelchair rolled along the room to approach her bed, Mia kept gazing at the girl, whose entire face was veiled by a skin-coloured protective mask. Besides a pair of pitch-black-lensed sunglasses, she wore the usual set of clothes, including a blue baseball cap put on the Cleopatra-styled blonde wig.

The sightless driver steered the wheelchair in the direction of the source of Mia’s sound. Just before she would collide with the bed, Nick put his arm on Cynthia’s shoulder to warn her. Getting the signal, the female’s artificial hand moved toward the control panel to halt the vehicle.

‘Please, let me introduce myself,’ Cynthia said.

‘Why? I do know very well who you are...,’ Mia fought hard to make sense of the introduction.

‘This is important. When I met you for the first time, I told you that I used to be Cynthia Taylor... this is still true but in a different sense. My name is Cynthia Williams,’ the girl said, beaming. And she raised her right artificial arm to blindly sweep in the air, trying to point at the young man standing by the side of the wheelchair. ‘Please meet my husband, Nicholas Williams.’

‘Hello, Mia,’ Nick greeted the full-body-casted patient.

Meanwhile, Cynthia’s artificial fingers fumbled with the dress over her chest to search for the necklace. Having found it, Cynthia lifted it up with an overjoyed movement to show the precious piece of jewellery to her friend: a token of marriage was hanging in the arc of the golden necklace.

‘This wedding ring is so important for me that I do not want to wear it on an unreceptive artificial ring finger. I’d like to feel it always on my body,’ Cynthia confessed, then she released the necklace, which fell back to go on clinging in front of the chest.

‘We were on honeymoon, too,’ Nick said. ‘Three weeks by the sea so that Cynthia could smell the salty air again.’

‘Yes, every day there was incredible. It was fantastic to be alive again,’ the wheelchair-bound girl said, re-feeling the heavenly holiday. ‘And we’ve moved from the St. Helen’s to live in a quiet suburb near here.’

‘And Jonathan...?’

‘He doesn’t support this marriage,’ Cynthia replied. ‘Mia, you’re my honest honorary sister. I need you to tell me the truth about a certain thing.’

Cynthia didn’t give more hint about the topic of the question. Yet, it became suddenly clear as her artificial arms slowly approached the plastic mask she wore to hide the real face.

‘My husband doesn’t like this mask. However, I always wear it when I leave home so that I don’t scare people to death... Please, tell me if it was worth to undergo so many plastic surgeries.’

Just before Mia could stop her, Cynthia removed the medical covering from the front part of her head. As a result of dozens of reconstructing surgeries done in the previous ten years, Cynthia’s look wasn’t disgustingly horrible. But it wasn’t a dear sight, either. Of course, the face, which had been seriously damaged in the fire, couldn’t be restored at all. Forming a new complexion, the scarred patchwork of the grafted skin had an unnatural look, being comparable to the lifeless mask disguising it. Despite the enormous effort of the surgeons, it was just a weird imitation of a natural human appearance.

With her blind eyes, Cynthia couldn’t perceive Mia’s body language, however, she sensed as Mia stopped breathing, strongly affected by the sight of the disfigured face of her honorary sister.

‘I terribly need to know your honest opinion. Because my brother keeps lying to me, and my husband loves me as I am,’ she explained.

‘Honey, it doesn’t necessary for you to...,’ Nick put his hand on Cynthia’s shoulder.

‘Please, Nick, I must hear it.’ Determined, she wanted to know the truth. Then she turned toward Mia. ‘Am I still so frightful? Allegedly, this is much better than it looked like a couple of years ago.’

‘It is still... quite upsetting... Well...,’ Mia stopped talking, and she closed her eyes not to see the fire-damaged face any longer. ‘I won’t lie to you. This is still awful. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, so you’d better wear the face mask.’

‘Thanks,’ Cynthia said.

Her reply was short, being hurt a bit. Next, she elevated the right artificial arm to clumsily adjust the plastic mask, and to push back the sunglasses, too, which she wore to hide the blind eyes.

‘Well, did you hear that Dr Byrd is not here, and did you just drop in to see me?’ Mia asked, feeling that Cynthia wasn’t here to talk about her happy marriage and her unsuccessful plastic surgeries.

‘We’ve found a way for you to get out of here,’ Nick replied.

The full-body-casted journalist eagerly listened to them, however, she thought about Moira, too.

‘Before you tell me how you can free me, would you mind checking this poor roommate?’

Nick nodded and walked to the other bed, which accommodated the mummy-shaped full body cast burying the poor Moira Johnson. For some moments, to fulfil Mia’s wish, Nick just studied the set of casts, which were arranged in the shape of a human body. Then he moved his arm to tap the flat surface of the enormous body cast built over the abdomen. Respecting her privacy, he didn’t touch the blanket laying over the patient’s middle parts. Instead, his finger wandered toward the only one visible opening, which was an itsy-bitsy slot on the ball-like head cast, bored for the mouth.

‘Oh, those bastards!’ Nick told them after he felt that he could reveal a horrible secret.

‘What is that?’ both the girls asked since none of them saw what he was doing exactly, as Cynthia was sightless, and Nick was out of Mia’s limited view field.

‘I’ve got a strange suspicion, and I must check it.’ Nick extended his arm. Soon, his hand touched the tight bandages encircling the head of the mummy, and finally, his index finger slowly sank into the dark mouth slot to probe the inside of the Minerva cast.

‘Has Moira died?’ Mia asked, hardly waiting for knowing the truth.

‘No.’ Nick’s reply was coloured with astonishment, while he looked at the tip of the finger, which he had just pulled out of the black hole of the feed port. He couldn’t believe what he found on his digit: a thread from a spider web. The conclusion was as crazy as stunning. ‘This full body cast is empty.’

‘Oh, holy sh*t. Carlo and Dr Byrd have built an empty FBC to freak me out!’ Mia cursed.

‘Excellent psychological warfare,’ Nick confirmed.

‘But what happened to Moira?’ Cynthia asked.

‘Who knows?’ Mia vainly attempted to shrug, but she couldn’t, due to the body-hugging DSS. ‘It’s the highest time for you to help me to leave this hell. It’s easy. Put me on a gurney, and take me away.’

‘You’re too heavy with these plaster casts,’ Nick said, hitting the weighty shell enfolding Mia’s entire body. ‘We would need four or six people at least to move you.’

‘Cut this damn cast off! I can walk away with you!’ Mia demanded since all the bones were healthy under the rigid dressings encompassing her body members.

‘Mia, we didn’t bring a cast saw. And even if we could free you, we wouldn’t be able to defeat all the guards around this place,’ Cynthia said. ‘But there’s a solution. To be honest, it was Detective Fisher’s idea.’

‘Oh, how is she?’ Mia asked about the cop, whom she had seen ages ago.

‘She develops very well. When I met her for the last time, she was in casts up to her neck, and she sat in a wheelchair, too. But now, she is said to be able to walk nicely with two crutches,’ Nick said.

‘And what is her fantastic plan?’

‘Well, it demands a huge sacrifice from you,’ Nick said.

Without a detailed explanation, he bent down to take a filled bottle out of a pocket of Cynthia’s wheelchair. Luckily, Mia’s medical integument was frozen in a good pose to see the flask, which was placed on the right side of her bed.

‘What is it?’ Mia asked after smelling the strange odour of the contained liquid.

‘Gasoline.’

‘You cannot be serious!’ Mia screamed, making up some details of the cop’s crazy plan.

‘What Annabelle told us was terribly rational,’ Cynthia said. ‘We are not strong enough to attack this place to free you. The Mafia wants to lock you down here until the end of the world. However, we can create a cause for them to take you away from here. This city hasn’t got a burn unit. I know it very well.’ A bitter smile appeared on Cynthia’s wrongly-rebuild face under the mask. ‘The nearest burn centre is in the neighbouring town, which, luckily, isn’t as deep-infiltrated as our sweet hometown. So, when you get there, and you’re in the clinic, tell the following password to Nurse Meyer: “Phoenix”. Please, don’t forget it. Then Mrs Meyer will send a message to the local group of the Organised Crime Unit, and they’ll take you to a safe place.’

‘You all are crazy,’ Mia said. Her look was full of hate, directed at the hellish bottle. ‘Ah, playing with my life... this is Annabelle’s great idea. And why would I need to memorise a password?’

‘Maybe, the Mafia will get you admitted to hospital under a false identity,’ Nick explained.

‘Oh, so you paid attention to all the details.’

‘Annabelle has been working on this project for months,’ Cynthia said.

‘That’s great.’ Mia wasn’t as keen on this plan as the literal sense of her words.

‘This is the only way for us to help you.’

‘Oh, holy sh*t,’ Mia cursed, then she bit her lips. ‘There’s just a small wish...’

‘Of course, we’ll spare your face. Understandably, nobody wants to be a Creepy Monster like me,’ Cynthia said.

In the meantime, her husband opened the bottle and started to pour its content on the bedsheets and Mia’s cast-wrapped legs.

‘Tell them that the guard dropped a burning cigarette on your bed. And please, don’t forget the password: Phoenix,’ Cynthia repeated. Saying that, the blind girl turned to the left, as she smelt the effusing smoke of a lit matchstick held in Nick’s hand.

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 10)     Next (Part 12)--> bandages
Mia and the Mafia, Part 11
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindnessPart 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 9 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 10

The Mafia’s recent method of punishment wasn’t as fatal as a car bomb exploding under your seat, or a sharp knife stabbed in your back, or a copper bullet shot in your head. Yet it was a rather confining feeling, making you absolutely helpless, exposed to their whim.

Sealed in casts, Mia had a lot of time to kill. She recalled the first occasion when she had met Georgia and what the attorney had told her. Georgia had promised that Mia would be in a nice and quiet place if she would help her. Indeed, the place, where Mia was put in cast and under lock, fulfilled the vague description. Probably, the deputy district attorney had talked about the woodland around the St Helen’s Nursing Home, which was exceptionally wonderful and the scenery was astounding.

However, Mia couldn’t take a look at the sky-high evergreens guarding the estate, because Mia’s residence, the Section B was a windowless chamber in the basement below a secluded building. Except for some insiders, nobody knew this hidden corner, which was disguised as a warehouse at the edge of the sanatorium.

Having no watch and calendar, Mia didn’t know for how long time she had been here. But the time was long enough for her to grasp the rules of the game in the Section B. From time to time, a gangster appeared in her room to ask the same questions again and again. Certainly, they wanted to know everything about her Mafia files. So far, Mia kept her mouth shut, and never replied the questions. In turn, the consequences of her stubbornness were severe but the way of retaliation was never open physical violence. Instead, she was punished with adding more and more pieces of confining cast to extend the existing shell.

Every failed round of interrogation gave new casts to Mia. So, slowly extending, the separate casts grew bigger and bigger. Combined into an overlapping cocoon, it started to swallow all bit of her figure, and Mia gradually lost control over her own body.

In the beginning, the two long leg casts had been replaced with a dual hip spica cast to swaddle the half of her body up to the belly button. The new cast had captured not only the lower part of the torso but it had perfectly overlaid the pelvis. The great size and the weight of the immense DHS had incredibly restrained her. It had worked more efficiently than any chain since a prisoner would be able to tear her restraints, but Mia hadn’t been able to take off the big shell, which had unnecessarily enfolded the sound bones of her lower body. Captured by the DHS and dual long arm casts, Mia couldn’t think seriously about escaping on her own any longer.

Obstinately, she hadn’t given up, and she had remained as inflexible as the integument embracing her.

The next cycle of disciplining had been the extension of the long arm casts to encase all the fingers. After the denied reply, the journalist had been given a pair of boxing glove-like casts to capture the hands, the palms and all the digits. Having casts, which had wholly wrapped the arms from armpit to fingertips, she had become totally dependent.

But the process hadn’t stopped. Instead of the LACs, soon, she had been provided with a double shoulder spica, which had made the movement of her upper body impossible. From that time, the previously freestanding DSS and DHS casts had emerged into a massive body cast. After the next stage of disobedience, the simple trunk cast had turned into a Risser cast to fix the neck, as well.

Although she had been locked in the embedding rind for a long time, Mia had still held on, and she hadn't said anything about her secret. As a sanction, the neck-fixing cast had grown into a head-encasing Minerva cast. Afterwards, rigid bands of casts surrounded her head, and only some part of her face was free of cast. Doming even the top of her head, the smooth and spherical headpiece crowned her. A wide cast headband overlaid the forehead, too, and another cast strip crossed the middle face to wrap the cheeks and the nose. Merely, the area around her eyes and the complete lower face were left cast-free so that Mia could be able to speak.

Fully frozen in the set of stiff enfoldments, Mia’s ability to move was robbed away. Stuck, she wasn’t able either to turn her head or to move her body, not to mention wiggling any of the bandage-bound fingers. Though the Minerva cast securely fastened her head, she was able to see her cast-wrapped figure because of the reclined pose of the upper body. Anchored to the body cast with bulky rods, the vast double shoulder spica casts engulfed each bit of the arms between the neck and the fingertips. Wrapped by the hard dressings, her upper limbs from shoulders to wrists hid uselessly under the dressings. Like boxing gloves woven from plaster, a pair of creepily formless thing ended the arm casts pointing ceilingwards.

The compactly fitting body cast was so thick that it couldn’t flawlessly follow the shape of her figure anymore. Sporting the voluminous trunk cast, the medical ‘dress’ tightly imprisoned her torso between the neck and the loins. The cast mantle over her back was flat, so Mia was forced to be sat slightly. The front part of the body cast covered her breasts too, imitating a pair of bras fabricated from cast.

After studying the full body cast burying her alive, Mia sighed, thinking that the day of inquisition came again. This time, the medical expert of the Section B was tasked with asking Mia. And after the next denied answer, the journalist would easily find herself in a fuller body cast.

‘Do you know what would happen to you if you keep refusing to answer?’ Dr Byrd asked, gesturing toward the opposite corner of the small room.

Though her head was held firmly in the cast casing, Mia could see the possible future. The fearful memento was a dusty cast sarcophagus, which included a living person for nine or ten years. Perfectly surrounding the female’s body, the thick plaster dressings seamlessly flowed around the embedded patient. The bandaged arms were placed tightly along to the torso. Either, the legs weren’t in a spread.

The other patient in the mummy dress was said to be Moira Johnson, who had been righteous (or brave? or mad?) enough to be a witness, giving her testimony against the Mafia. As far as Mia knew, she had been abducted from a safe house of the witness protection program, and nobody had seen her since then. Literally, even Mia couldn’t see Moira, but merely the body-shaped and custom-made integument, which had been capturing the poor female for a decade.

After talking about the mummified Moira, Dr Byrd got back to open his bag. Soon, he got up, holding a cast saw in his hand. Triumphantly, he started to play the device like a cowboy with his revolver.

‘If you help us, I can help you,’ he said and turned the cast saw on.

The buzzing noise sounded like a fanfare of freedom for Mia. However, she knew that she needed to project persistence.

‘Tell me where you’ve hidden the files that you’ve collected to prove the alleged connection between the organised crime and the law enforcement agencies. In this case, I can help you. Would you like to be out of cast ever again?’ he talked, and playing with the cast saw, he approached Mia’s cast-covered hands.

‘The files are in a bank safe,’ Mia didn’t say too much, knowing that she had been followed.

To reward the answer, Dr Byrd pushed the cast saw against the flat ‘roof’ of the body cast over her belly. The working device just started to scratch the hard top of the solid shell, but, carefully, Dr Byrd didn’t let it cut deep enough.

‘I want to know more. The number of the safe deposit box? Passwords? Keys? Tell me everything, and I’ll free you. If you give me the right answer, all these ugly casts disappear, and you can go back to the Upper World,’ he said, and he looked up at the basement ceiling. ‘You know, it’s easy for you to tell me the truth, like saying “Open, Sesame!”

‘This secret is my insurance policy. I don’t trust you. Maybe, I’ll be full-body-casted anyway,’ Mia said, and from the corner of the eyes, she peered at a dusty, human-sized cocoon lying on the next bed.

‘You should trust us,’ Dr Byrd replied. ‘Don’t care about Moira too much. I’m sure that you know who Celia Kellers is. Well, she was a hard nut, too. Oh, at first, she was a person of principle, one of the incorruptible ones. But, after enjoying our hospitality down here, she changed her mind. We let her free, as she was frankly grateful for us. She became our loyal and obedient asset in the Town Hall. But you... it seems that you need more lessons. Now, I think, it is the highest time to make this full body cast really full. Soon, we’ll patch your eyes, and we’ll extend the Minerva cast to cover the entire face. But I can do it only tomorrow because I must bring here some medical inventory. This is a bit funny thing, but the warehouse above us has run out of plaster of Paris.’

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 9)     Next (Part 11)--> cast, amputation, blindness
Mia and the Mafia, Part 10
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: castPart 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 5 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 9

After coming back from Annabelle’s hospital room, the nurses helped Mia to get out of the wheelchair. Held tightly by them, yet standing unsteadily on the tiny walking heels of the confining long leg casts, Mia took two short steps toward the bed. The caregivers assisted her to sit down, then they tenderly adjusted her casted legs, which started to rest on cushions, while the bandaged arms got back in their sling prisons.

Even the short wheelchair-ride to the neighbouring room drained Mia’s batteries. Not to mention the not-too-hopeful conversation with the shattered cop. Thinking of it, Mia let the bed sink her body. Now, fully depending on assistance because of her four casts, she tried to get through this dark time.

The two health workers left the room. Mia remained there, lying on her bed and peering blankly at the ceiling. Her roommates, the four full-body-casted Joanna Vaughns weren’t talkative persons. Understandably, since it could be very hard for them to speak when their full masks muted them, overlapping their faces with heavy bands of bandages and coating of casts. Fearing for her casted arms cuffed in the slings, Mia moved a bit to gaze at her roommates, who were imprisoned in big shells of different colours and different postures.

The common feature of the four fibreglass armours was their size since each of the contiguous medical integuments enshrouded the females from head to toes. But for the extent, almost any other attribute was different, such as the fine-tuned postures. For example, Joanna No. 1 endured that her limbs were uncomfortably captured in traction, pulled up high in the air. Differing from this kind of treatment, the broken body members of the three other patients weren’t held in permanent pull, but the arms and legs were kept in the right position with long bars, connecting the cast-wrapped limbs to the central cast mantling the torso.

The nearest patient, Blue Joanna had only two body parts, which escaped from the immense medical cover: two little fingers. Jutting out from the sea of dressings, her free digits looked like thin sticks. Besides that, a gigantic contiguous cast wrapped the body, fitting to her figure in a tailor-made manner. Especially, the cast over her breasts was nicely shaped. Elevated by tractions, her legs weren’t on the bed, either. Stretched out, these limbs were above the bed, creating a weird formation that looked like a letter V.

Although Mia had her own trouble with her four casts, she felt some sympathy for the poor Joannas, whom her misinformation had pushed into full body casts. These females had become innocent victims of the war when Mia had lied to the two-faced Georgia just to gain time and to mislead the enemy. However, the gangsters had tried to tie up all the loose ends, and they had captured and tortured each females bearing the name of Joanna Vaughn to fix a non-existing information leak.

Hearing the creak of the door, Mia stopped thinking of the roomies, and she turned to the right to check the guest entering the room.

‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ a woman chirped after entering.

Shocked, Mia saw Georgia Sanders appearing in the room. Having stepped in, the deputy district attorney was already standing in front of Mia’s bed, gazing at the wrapped journalist sporting two long arm casts and two long leg casts. Exchanging glances, Mia saw that Annabelle had been right because no cast disabled the visitor’s hand.

‘And what happened to your injured arm, Georgia?’ Mia asked, deliberately choosing the informal addressing.

‘Oh, casts come and go. A really good surgical team can do miracles,’ she replied. ‘I’ve chosen the finest fibreglass, but you must have a very cheap health insurance, honey.’

After the detractive comment, Georgia got closer to probe the surface of the bulky plaster cast, which enshrouded Mia’s legs.

‘Being a journalist was never a good business here. However, as I heard, there are high salaries at the organised crime,’ Mia replied to mock the dishonest deputy district attorney.

‘You shouldn’t blame me. It is your sharp tongue that caused your troubles,’ Georgia answered while going around Mia’s bed. Finally, she moved close to tap the massive cast, which formlessly embraced Mia’s left ankle. Then, for a short while, she wondered how rough the surface of the plaster cast was. ‘Luckily for us, I asked Carlo to spare your jaw. We need to talk, and I would hate counting your blinks or checking the movements of your little fingers. Or whatever.’

‘Do you really dare talk about it so openly?’ Mia asked, referring to the presence of the other patients in the room.

Hearing the question, Georgia stopped being busy with Mia, and she turned around to see the alleged ear-witnesses lamed in their full body casts. She thoughtfully studied the extensive head casts, which wrapped the ears, too.

‘Practically, all those bitches are deaf. If we don’t talk loudly, they can’t hear us because of the thick cast layer covering their ears. Let’s try it!’

Georgia left Mia’s bed to approach one of the full-body-casted Joannas.

‘Hey, Ms Vaughn, can you hear me?’ Georgia cried out loudly so that her voice could break through the full-sized Minerva cast overlaying the patient’s organs of hearing.

To reply, Blue Joana wiggled her uncasted right little finger.

‘Perfect! I’m deputy district attorney Georgia Sanders. I’d like to tell a piece of good news to you. After a throughout investigation, I have found the person, who is responsible for your terrible health state, Ms Vaughn. It’s your roommate Mia Marshall. She intentionally lied to the Mafia that you were a mole in the organisation.’

The reply was astonishing. Mia could listen to the chorus of angry murmurs, coming from the depth of all the four full body casts. Accompanying the silent cacophony of sounds, Mia saw one or two of the full body casts slightly moved by the embedded women, trying to break out to see the fifth patient in the room: Mia. Most likely, even Blue Joanna made a futile attempt to rise from her paralysing plaster prison, however, she was able to move her little fingers, merely. Giggling, Georgia checked the immense FBCs, and she came back to Mia’s bed.

‘Why have you done this?’ Mia asked, terrified by the hardly audible yet very disturbing noise emanating from the full body casts.

‘I did it because I could do it. And to give you some more motivation. I hope that you wouldn’t like to spend too much time here when even your roommates hate you.’

‘You’re...’

‘A bit crazy?’ Georgia condescendingly offered a possible explanation, blindly swimming in the sea of hubris.

‘What do you want?’

‘You clearly know what we want. I know everything about your Mafia investigation project. Give me the name of your real information source. Give me an access to your database. And don’t try to bluff again,’ she warned her. ‘Think of these poor ladies in their nice full body casts. If you’ll be a bad girl, you can easily get your own personalised cocoon.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Mia, Mia, your guardian angel has fallen from the sky, and she has hit herself so hard that she almost fell to pieces,’ Georgina talked about Annabelle, who was stuck in a one-piece unyielding shell extending from the toes up to the neck. ‘She won’t come to save you, especially because she isn’t able to leave her bed on her own. You know that we are able to sweep anybody away. Now, you should make a decision. What do you want? To join us and to live a golden life? Or to fight us and to be stuck in casts for forever?’

‘Honestly, I’m terribly disappointed when I look at you. I always thought that you could be a ray of hope in this dark city. Why did you choose the bad ones, Georgia?’

‘You don’t understand it. I didn’t choose the bad ones. I always wanted to belong to the winners,’ Georgia said, pointing at herself. ‘You are a loser,’ she added, aiming at Mia. ‘Please, don’t forget who is who here.’

‘I won’t tell you anything.’

‘Great. But don’t forget, either, that there is a place in which everybody breaks,’ Georgia turned around to call two nurses in the room. ‘Take Ms Marshall to the Section B.’

‘This is abduction. Hey, you cannot do that!’ Mia screamed. ‘You can’t do that!!!’

‘No, legally, this is not a kidnap. Our medical experts reviewed Dr Volkoff’s wrong opinion on your recovery, and they told him that your serious wounds need special treatment.’

Mia’s attempt to resist was not only useless but also ridiculous since the casts entirely encircling her arms and legs limited her ability to fight. Strong arms grabbed her casted limbs to remove her from the bed. Within seconds, she was put on a gurney, and she got tied with wide straps running over her chest and the plastered limbs.

Being an unwanted system glitch in the well working machine of the Mafia, Mia was simply expunged, and she started her journey toward oblivion.

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 8)     Next (Part 10)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 9
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: castPart 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 2 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 8

Wordlessly, Dr Volkoff turned the pages of the second volume of the medical file to study the collection of the X-Ray and CT images taken on Mia’s injuries. After reading the summary, he asked his question with such a knowing cadence to sign that he would discredit whatever the patient would lie to him.

‘Oh, Ms Marshall, an accident again?’

‘You can’t imagine how dangerous a wheelchair could be.’

Really, Mia was economical with the truth. It was no point in pressing charges against Carlo the Castmaker, thus the female had found out some stupid story about rolling down the stairs.

Well, after Carlo’s visit, Mia’s next destination had been the cast room, where her dual long leg casts had been supplemented with two additional shells to encase the arms. Now, sadly settling on the bed, she gazed at the upper limbs, which were fully swaddled in freshly-made unyielding dressings running between the armpits and the palms. The maltreated limbs were bent at the elbow, thus their shapes were similar to two whitewashed letters ‘L’. The cast-wrapped arms were kept in the air, and each of them was imprisoned in two slings clinging down the metal frame installed above the bed.

Doing a thorough work, the evil executioner had crushed not only her elbow and the hands, but he had twisted the thumbs. Thus, enhancing her helplessness, a pair of bulky thumb spica casts stood erect, jutting out of the tube-like dressings to securely stabilise the injured extremities just at the end of the long arm casts.

Lying on the piled pillows, Mia was half-sitting in the bed. Her earlier wounds in the guise of the broken lower limbs remained wholly wrapped in the two matching long leg casts. The disabled legs were bolstered on the bed, stretched out, placed in a relatively comfortable spread.

With broken legs and arms, Mia was totally incapacitated. She wiggled the healthy fingers, which sadly protruded out of the padded gap of the immense mass of the arm casts... That is all that she can do – Mia thought. A journalist, who wasn’t able to write, was a useless journalist. Using a typewriter? Oh, what! She wasn’t able even to feed herself – and it was so unimaginable for her that she become so confined. Yet, slowly, she started to get used to the restriction of the new medical armwear.

Just to do something, she vainly probed the rigidity of the casts firmly containing the arms. But everything remained stiff and unchanged. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to flex her arms as the DLAC stubbornly grasped the broken body members.

‘So, has your wheelchair rolled down the stairs?’ Dr Volkoff asked.

‘All this trouble happened because of my clumsiness,’ Mia lied again. Blaming the Mafia wouldn’t be a good idea, she supposed, especially in a town where everybody worked for them.

‘Right. Let’s talk about the treatment. Unluckily for you, you’ve just given two long arm casts with additional thumb spica casts. This kind of cast must be extensive to encase the entire limbs. So, this is the explanation for its size. And you must wear them for...’

‘For three months,’ Mia finished the sentence.

‘Have you ever worn long arm casts before?’ he wondered.

‘It wasn’t me, but my sister, who had them after a biking accident,’ she mentioned, remembering that Mia had had to feed her unlucky sibling every day for three months. ‘And what about the roommates?’

Horribly, a certain part of Mia’s nightmares came true. She was the fifth patients in the room, which was full of the four full-body-casted Joanna Vaughns.

Having turned to the left, Mia gazed at the nearest roommate. Certainly, she saw the patient, who was embedded in the body-hugging full cocoon, whose hard outer tissue was woven from light blue fibreglass. The head cast helmeted the entire head and face but for only some insignificantly small holes, which were left open for the eyes, the nostrils and the mouth. To make this Joana totally immobile, the cast closely captured the neck and the wrapped whole torso, as well. Following the curves and lines of the legs, the contiguous cast ‘flowed down’ to engulf the entire lower body.

The limbs frozen in their casts weren’t resting on the bed but they were kept in the air, pulled up by tractions. Made for each of the limbs, four slings clang down to chain the arms and legs. Strangely, both of her little fingers remained uncasted, being as the last remnants of a body, which used to be healthy and sound before the horrible beating.

Because of the large number of bars and rods, pulleys, wires and slings and lead weights in front of, above and behind the bed, that part of the room was more similar to a hardware store rather than a hospital room.

‘Well, this room seems a bit overcrowded, indeed,’ the doctor scratched his head, gazing at all the four Joanas, plus the freshly-arrived Mia. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Ms Marshall. Simply, I can’t provide you with a single room. Nowadays, there are a lot of people, who have suffered very serious accidents under mysterious circumstances,’ he added, knowingly. ‘But I think that you can leave this room much earlier than any of Ms Vaughns, who must enjoy our hospitality in the next ten to twenty months.’

Hearing the name, the patient in the blue FBC slightly wiggled her uncasted left little finger.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Vaughn,’ Dr Volkoff said loudly, speaking to the unlucky resident of the full medical integument. ‘We’ve reviewed the latest set of your medical data, and now it seems that you must stay with us for a bit longer than we told you earlier... for twelve months,’ he replied after he found the right number in the medical file.

Just to express the astonishment, the lonely left finger of the patient, who was muted by the head cast, started to wiggle rather heavily.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Vaughn. We do our best to heal you, and keeping you here is a medically well-grounded decision.’

Giving up, the frustrated movement of the left finger stopped.

‘Can you communicate with her in this way?’ Mia asked, stunned by the method of discussion.

‘Yes, indeed. If she wiggles her left little finger, it means “no”. If she moves the right one, then she says “yes” or “agree”’.

‘Fantastic,’ Mia said.

‘Sadly, we cannot communicate with the other full body casted patients. Blue Joanna is relatively fortunate.’

The mummy-like Blue Joanna wiggled her left finger again to express her negative opinion on her mentioned luckiness. Being stuck inside a full body cast for a year, she didn’t feel lucky at all.

‘Can I do anything for you, Ms Marshall?’

‘No, thanks,’ Mia answered, shivered at the thought that she would have to be served. But with arms confined in long casts, she was almost as dependant on permanent assistance as any of the Joannas in their full body casts.

‘However, Doctor, I would be grateful if you could do me a favour,’ she said, then she told him the name of the only one person in which she could trust, although she hardly knew her. ‘Please call here Annabelle Fisher.’

‘Annabelle Fisher?’ Dr Volkoff asked, surprised.

‘Do you know her?’

‘For sure. Ms Fisher in the next room. However, she is not able to come to meet you.’

***

Luckily, Dr Volkoff allowed Mia to get out of the sling prison. Soon, two nurses arrived, and they gently freed her cast-covered arms from the traction traps. Understandably, she wasn’t able to propel the wheelchair when having four incapacitated limbs. Pulled down by the heavy casts, the wheelchair-bound journalist almost submerged into the softly-padded seat of her vehicle. Kept fixed by the four casts, she settled unmovingly in the wheelchair, which slowly exited the room, pushed by a nurse. The tour didn’t take too long, since the destination, Annabelle’s residence was in the next chamber.

‘Oh, I’ve told you that you needed to leave the city as fast as you can,’ Annabelle said after she saw that the heavily injured Mia arrived at her room.

‘I wasn’t fast enough.’

‘And officially?’ Annabelle inquired.

‘Officially what?’

‘I mean what the reason for your newest injuries was?’

‘My wheelchair rolled down the staircase. And yours?’

‘Rock climbing accident.’

Regretting her delay, and being sorry about Annabelle’s accident, Mia casted her head down. Although Annabelle slightly reproached Mia, the cast wrapping the cop was significantly bigger than her friend’s. Sadly, even Mia looked disappointed at the undercover cop, who should have been her guardian angel.

The contiguous cocoon, which included most of Annabelle’s fit and slim figure, was basically different from the casts Mia sported. Strikingly differing from Mia’s four separate casts, Annabelle’s integument was a single-piece union of immense mass of casts. The fallen cop was deeply lodged in a super-sized shell, which captured her physique from feet to head. Although its dimension was huge, it wasn’t a full body cast, since both of her arms and her face, and most of the head was free of medical protection.

The surgeons had combined a gigantic double hip spica cast and a big Risser cast to form a single entity of dressings when mending Annabelle’s shattered pelvis and backbone. Frozen in a wide spread, the cast completely covered her legs, but for the toes, which sadly jutted out of the narrow slot rimmed by the thick casts of the DHS. Though the legs had similar casts, their poses were rather different. The left one lied on the bed, just inflexed horizontally. Differing, the other leg was pulled up in the air almost ceilingwards, heavily built in a reinforced platform. To stabilise the smashed bones, the upper part of the DHS was very extensive. It was so big that it seamlessly faded into a perfect trunk cast to mantle Annabelle’s body up to the armpits.

Tightly adjusted to the feminine outlines, like a rigid and secure suit, the body cast ideally dressed her torso, and it included her breasts, too, hiding them beneath decent plaster cast bras. Smoothly joined to the extensive hip spica, the Risser cast surrounded the neck and confined the lower part of the head up to the chin line. Trapped in this cast, Annabelle was perfectly prevented from moving her body.

Thus, although she could move her hands, Annabelle was rather helpless, needing an unceasing support from the nurses.

‘Carlo has found me. This is the long-lasting memory of his second visitation,’ Mia replied, and she elevated the cast-wrapped hands from the armrests. ‘A journalist who cannot write isn’t too dangerous anymore. And I can’t do anything in the next three months,’ she tried to shrug her shoulder, but the hurried movement caused pain in the fresh wounds.

‘Only three months?’ Annabelle asked, envying her. ‘At that time, I’ll be still stuck in here. At Christmas, maybe Santa gives a nice present to me. A walking frame,’ she joked, sadly.

Grimacing, Annabelle began to drum on the rigid surface of the cast-suit laid over her abdomen, following the rhythm of a rock song.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Fisher,’ Mia said. ‘If you hadn’t come to my place to warn me...’

‘Don’t blame yourself. I should have known that you were watched. I was always a thorn in their eyes. I always wanted to have a very long holiday. So, now, I got it,’ Annabelle kidded, but really she was near to bursting into tears.

It was so hard to believe that even one cast could be big enough to envelop most of her body.

‘Okay, ladies, the visiting hour is over,’ the nurse announced to stop their discussion.

Not waiting for Mia’s permission, the nurse stepped to her wheelchair to transport Mia back to the place where she belonged.

‘Miss Marshall! Be careful! They’ll come back until they get what they want,’ Annabelle said loudly, looking at her protégée departing in the wheelchair.

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 7)     Next (Part 9)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 8
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: castPart 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 28 April, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 7

The wheelchair rolled around the black suitcase, which Mia had hurriedly filled with some pieces of clothes. The girl propelled the vehicle closer to the window, and she nervously looked down, waiting for a taxi to arrive.

Feeling like she was running out of time, she raised her arm to check the wristwatch. Doing this, she couldn’t avoid seeing the present of the Mafia, the two gigantic long leg casts, which took away the possibility from her to leave this place on foot. With legs captured in those hard and unyielding thigh-to-toes things called long leg casts, Mia was a ship firmly anchored in a windless lagoon.

The ordered taxi didn’t come on time. Although, just to be prepared to depart this place, she bent to reach for the bag resting on the floor of the room, just beside the right wheel of the chair. She struggled with lifting up the heavy suitcase, which she put partly on her lap, and partly on the upper parts of the two LLCs. Offering a suitable support, the stone hard medical dressings, which swaddled the limbs resting on the horizontal leg rests, were so tough and rigid that she didn’t sense the additional weight of the big package at all. Finally, she was able to say goodbye to her home, she started to roll the wheelchair toward the main door to wait for the taxi down in the street.

Living with the confining shells and the wheelchair, Mia had already collected a couple pieces of unpleasant experience, when banging the cast-disabled legs against the wall. This time, she smartly dodged in the narrow corridor, fearing for her poor legs frozen in the outstretched pose. After she manoeuvred out of the apartment, she fought with using the keys to close the door. Finally, she arrived at the staircase. Looking around, she didn’t dare think about rolling down the stairs. Sometimes in the before-DLLC times, it had been a kind of fun to rush up and down the steps. But now, manacled in two long leg casts, and being forced into a wheelchair, doing this would be equal to madness.

The elevator would be a right option for going down. The wheels of the chair creaked on the smooth floor of the corridor, as Mia rolled toward the lift door. But she never could reach the destination, no matter how close it was to her. Dragged by some invisible force, which prevented it from moving forward, the wheelchair stopped, although she propelled it heavily.

Mia felt that the hurdle had to be a person and not some scattered pebble stuck under the wheels. Worriedly, she turned around to see the man standing right behind the backrest of the wheelchair. He was the one because of whom she tried to escape from here. As Annabelle had foreseen, Carlo the Castmaker came back. Towering over the girl sitting in the wheelchair, he was grabbing the push handles of the wheelchair to pull back the escaping girl.

Carlo put his index finger to his lips, and taking over the control of the wheelchair, he began to roll Mia’s wheelchair back to her home. Resigned, Mia didn’t scream, since she knew that nobody would help her. Sliding back to the starting line, the journalist was in her flat again, accompanied by the man, whom she feared the most.

Having got back to the living room, Carlo went around her wheelchair and started to assess the result of his previous ‘project’. Respecting the border of privacy drawn by the rim of the mid-length skirt, which Mia wore, his fat fingers ran along the visible part of the rind wrapping the left leg. Obviously, he was admiring the great outcome of his fantastic work. He reverentially touched the rough and unyielding uppermost layer of the tight bandages, which made stiff the knees and captured the lower parts. Finally, he fingered the toes, which were so deeply embedded in the extended feet casts that merely tiny pink tips could be seen.

‘That’s good. At least, one of us likes these casts,’ Mia said to him when he seemingly finished studying the LLC.

‘Ms Marshall, you were a stupid girl again,’ Carlo said. He stepped away from the wheelchair, being busy with preparing the next stage.

‘I wasn’t...,’ she tried to deny.

‘Dear Mia, I think, although they can’t speak, all the four Joanna Vaughns are cursing you and all members of your nice family from morning till evening. What a pity!’

‘Please, Carlo, let me go away. Please, please,’ Mia begged.

With tears in her eyes, she tried to flash a glance at the street, still waiting for some unexpected saviour like Annabelle and a group of honest cops to raid this house.

‘You won’t go anywhere,’ he answered, smiling. ‘Somebody deleted your taxi order.’

Mia was sitting frozen in her wheelchair, hesitating.

‘You have lied to me,’ Carlo preached like a deeply concerned father.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘The name of your informer.’

‘Joanna Vaughn.’

‘Your stubborn stupidity pushed four innocent women in full body cast. Don’t you regret it?’

‘I won’t tell you anything.’

‘The Boss thinks that you need some more presents to realise who masters this place.’

Saying it, he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair to overturn it. Flipped over, Mia fell out of the chair to land on the hard floor. Her escape instinct began to work, and the girl started to crawl on the floor. However, she could use only her hands, because the dead weight of the leg casts dragged her back.

Seeing the ridiculous escape attempt, Carlo laughed, and he stepped on the right LLC to stop her. Nailed by the boot, Mia remained to lie on the ground, however, she peered up at the man, waiting for what would happen.

‘Carlo presents: “The second stage of your treatment”,’ he announced, holding a baseball bat in his hands.

***

Having found a ledge, which seemed safe and wide enough, Annabelle stopped climbing the steep cliff for a while. Leaning thigh against the rock wall, she wiped off the sweat from her forehead. Although the east side of the peak was already in the shadows, the stones were lukewarm because of the earlier set of sunshine.

Though rock climbing was considered a dangerous kind of sport, this place was less threatening than the city, which she had left behind just to spend some lonely hours in the close highlands. Sun, clouds, rock and wind – the savage features of nature. To the contrary, the town itself was ordered, neat and clean, yet it could offer only dirt and crime – it was Annabelle’s sad conclusion.

The cop recalled what had happened to that poor journalist Mia, whom she had warned. Thinking of her, the cop hoped that she had been able to escape. Or else, she would be the next victim of Carlo The Castmaker.

Annabelle had already imagined the scene when she would meet Mia for the next time. Surely, casts of immense dimensions would completely contain the girl. Slings would capture all the crushed arms and legs so that they could be sustained in permanent pull. Even when her jaw wouldn’t be broken, she wouldn’t tell the police what happened to her. Nobody would be stupid enough to blame the Mafia. Mia would say that she had fallen from balcony or some bullsh*t like that.

Yet, Annabelle would have to complete the paperwork, and she would open a crime case file on the investigation. On a futile investigation that would be classified as unsolved in the following month.

That is life in a town ruled by Mafia – the cop thought bitterly after the years she had spent with a hopeless fight against the organised crime.

However, Annabelle needed a victory for this day. Not an official victory over the Mob: it would be impossible. Just something personal, a small piece of triumph over herself. To reach it, Annabelle restarted to climb to get to the top of the cliff. The imaginary finish line was merely a couple of dozens of feet above her. Despite her tiredness, she was able to utilise all cracks and grasps of the rocks, not taking too many risks. At last, sweeping the surface of the stones with her free hands, luckily she found a wide crack into which even her body could fit.

Slowly ascending, Annabelle managed to reach the rim of the plateau. She was already delighted in advance, thinking of the impressive sight of the canyon that would be waiting for her. Having raised it, her right hand sank into the fine dust of the flat mountaintop. Then, finally finding hard soil, she pulled her upper body up to the ground level.

Seeing something that shouldn’t have been there, Annabelle froze in the air. The sight that disturbed her so much was a pair of black boots. Turning her head up, she could see the owner of the heavy-duty footwear, too. A bold and bearded man, holding a knife in his hand. The blade of the weapon shined in the bright sunshine flooding the plateau.

‘This is what a scriptwriter would call a perfect cliffhanger, isn’t it?’ he asked in his best manner, looking down at Annabelle, who was on the very edge of the cliff. Her hands and upper body was already ‘upstairs’, but her legs were wedged in some cracks of the rock wall.

‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked, hypnotised by the sight of the bright knife waved by the male.

‘You’re my next assignment.’

‘I’m Annabelle Fisher, organised crime unit detective,’ she said, however, while being held by one single safety rope at the rim of the cliff, and facing a knife, her tone wasn’t as confident as she wanted to be.

‘Good morning, Miss Annabelle Fisher, organised crime unit detective,’ he replied. ‘Do you mean that I should introduce myself to return your kind greeting?’

‘I mean that it’s not a clever act to kill an OCU cop,’ she answered while seeing that the man crouched down, and the knife started to approach her face.

‘Don’t worry, Miss, I won’t harm you,’ the man said casually. Then, he explained what he meant: ‘I hired the good old Newton to do so. It’s the gravity, stupid.’

Right after saying the last word, he cut the safety rope holding the female with a blazingly quick movement of his right hand.

Deprived of the safety device, Annabelle stubbornly fought hard not to fall down. The gangster cursed. To fix the mistake, his heavy boots stepped on Annabelle’s right fingers, which were ‘glued’ to the top of the rock. Pressed by the hard sole of the brogue, the female felt the torturing ache of her smashed digits, but she didn’t give up, fearing of the bigger pain made by the heavy landing. Yet, finally, yelling, she removed the right hand from the cliff, but the healthy left arm still firmly seized the edge of the rock.

‘You’re a very tough girl, Annabelle,’ he acknowledged her resistance. ‘But I bet that the soil down there will be tougher than you.’

Instead of breaking her left extremities, too, the man chose the most direct solution. He lifted his right leg and he simply kicked Annabelle’s forehead. Got dizzy, the female lost control and her left arm released the cliff. The torn rescue rope couldn’t hold her back from falling down. Annabelle began to fly down steeply, approaching fast the ground at the foot of the mountain.

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 6)     Next (Part 8)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 7
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: castPart 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 25 April, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 6

To answer the impatiently ringing doorbell, Mia propelled quickly her wheelchair, which she had to move manually, as it missed an engine. Starting from the soft carpet of the bedroom, the wheelchair rolled on the parquet floor of the living room. Exiting it, she turned around so carelessly that she almost smashed her casted legs against the wall. Just before the sturdily casted feet and the toes could kiss the wall, she stopped, and she replanned the route to spare the injured limbs, which extended forward like battering rams.

After the rush, panting, she halted the wheelchair in the antechamber.

‘Come in, please,’ Mia asked the guest to help herself.

The door opened, and Mia saw a female standing in the corridor. Unluckily, she wasn’t the one whom the host expected so terribly. Since Mia had been released from the hospital, she hadn’t met Georgia Sanders, and she hadn’t heard anything about her, either. Most likely, Carlo, the Castmaker had caught the deputy attorney to finish the job, which he had begun a week ago. Perhaps, the hapless Georgia’s cast collection must have been pieced out to complete the LATS she had worn.

Feeling that she had lost the brave deputy attorney, Mia flashed a disappointed glance at the unknown guest, who gave the impression of being a declassed salesperson, who had bought her worn and dirty raincoat in a charity shop.

‘Oh, I don’t buy anything,’ Mia said to send her away, then she added something more to take precaution. ‘And I don’t convert, either.’

‘I do not sell Bibles, Ms Marshall. I must talk to you.’

‘Do you know me?’

‘I’m Annabelle Fisher, undercover detective of the Organised Crime Unit,’ she said, pushing her badge before Mia’s face. ‘You must be Mia Marshall, right?’ she asked.

The alleged detective gazed down at the girl sitting in the wheelchair. Lying on the leg rests, Mia’s long leg casts were unmissable distinguishing marks.

‘Right,’ Mia couldn’t deny the fact that she was The Beaten Journalist with DLLC in a Wheelchair.

‘Can we talk somewhere inside?’ she inquired, still standing in the corridor.

‘Follow me.’ Mia rolled back the chair to let her in.

This time, when leaving the antechamber, Mia was more careful, and her legs escaped from being hit against the corner. She parked the wheelchair in the living room. Though the comfy couch beside her was alluring, she didn’t risk the transfer, and she remained sitting in the wheelchair.

‘This is an excellent disguise, Detective Fisher,’ Mia praised her poor clothes.

‘I like its old and worn design. But I’m here not to talk about fashion.’

Annabelle leant against the wall, and she looked at Mia’s cast-wrapped limbs. The pair of the huge white shells covering her legs from thighs to toes was undeniably noticeable. Looking like inflexed thick tubes, the dual long leg casts rested on the well-cushioned legrests. Confined to a wheelchair, the journalist was partly disabled, because she couldn’t flex any joints of the legs. The bulky casts moulded around even each and every toe, which were heavily padded in dense inner dressings, also.

‘Typical of Carlo, the Castmaker,’ Annabelle said, after studying the results of the job done by the mentioned man. ‘Breaking methodically the victim’s knees, ankles and toes is his tag.’

‘Mostly, the surgeons are the ones who are interested in my casts... but this is not what an organised crime unit detective does. At least, I suppose.’

‘The life of an undercover cop is very hard,’ Annabelle sighed. ‘Nowadays, I always meet people with casts everywhere,’ she said, then she gave a photo to Mia. ‘For example, here’s Joanna Vaughn.’

Holding the image in her hands, Mia didn’t see Joanna but a patient turned into a mummy due to the white casts all over her body parts. Except for some tiny holes, Joanna’s face was veiled by a mask-like set of dressings to make her unrecognisable. The head cast was so huge that it encased the whole head, too. Comparably to a scarf and mantle woven from fibreglass tissue, the cast enveloped the neck and captured the entire torso. The contiguous cast followed each shape and bend of the arms, from the shoulder up to the tip of fingers. The double shoulder spica casts were positioned at shoulder level, with hands frozen in the pose pointing upwards, due to the flexed elbows. Stopping the poor patient from any motion, all the fingers and thumbs were captured in casts similar to a pair of oversized kitchen gloves. The entire lower body was dressed in white, as well, since a dual hips spica with two long leg casts wrapped it. Frozen in a wide spread, and without a spread bar between the legs, it looked like a white letter V standing upside down. Somehow, Joanna’s toes remained unbroken. Now the uninjured extremities projected humbly out of the small openings framed by thick cast.

Before Mia could reply, Annabelle forwarded her the second photo, saying:
‘Please, meet Joanna Vaughn.’

Now, Joanna was in a blue full body cast. This time, the setting of the casts and the posture of the patient were basically different. Although the one-piece medical integument was full enough to cover her figure from top to down, the arms and legs weren’t rested on the top of the bed, but they were sustained in permanent pull, hinging in the air. A sophisticated structure of bars and rods, pulleys, wires and slings surrounded the bed, completed by four packages of heavy lead weights clinging at the end of the ropes in front of the bed and behind it. Seeing the photo, Mia noticed that merely short fingertips protruded out of the end openings of the huge shoulder spica casts.

Next, before she could say anything, Mia received the third image.

‘Joanna Vaughn,’ Annabelle told her to make the host more confused.

By this time, Joanna’s blue FBC had changed into a green cocoon. As usual, each part of her body was fully embedded, from the top of the head down to the tip of the toes. Now, the medical sarcophagus, which kept her crushed body together, was all-inclusive, missing any openings. There were no eye slots, and there were tubes pressed into the holes bored above the gauze-wrapped nostrils and mouth. This time, there were no slings and traction systems around the bed. It was just simply Joanna with her fibreglass ‘armour’, and hills of pillows wedged around her in the bed. Her arms weren’t flexed but stretched-out, firmly fixed in shoulder-to-fingertip casts in a pose perpendicular to the torso. Strangely, huge bars connected her casted wrists to the massive block of the torso cast. As the fists were clenched, the arm cast ended in roundish coverings like boxing gloves. The legs weren’t bent, either, as the limbs were just resting in the long leg casts finishing in boot-like feet cast.

‘I don’t really...,’ Mia attempted to say, after seeing the three different photos depicting the same patient.

‘Joanna Vaughn,’ Annabelle said, not caring about Mia’s slight protest.

The colour of the red cast wrapping Joanna’s body was somewhat frightening. Primarily, the body-hugging compact shell was so thick and streamlined that it almost took away the anthropomorphic outlines. However, there was something more scary about her: the extensive metal structure, which was constructed all over the cast surface. The metal jungle build from the external fixators included web of rods, maze of bar and mesh of wires. All this structure was made to force screws through the holes drilled in the hard and thick sarcophagus so that they could fix and stabilise Joanna’s smashed bones.

‘I don’t understand anything,’ Mia said after she saw the last photo. She didn’t find good words to express herself. Confused, she put all the images on the table between them. ‘Why did you show it to me? And why did she wear four different full body casts? Was she attacked in the hospital for so many times, again and again?’

‘You don’t really know anything,’ the detective finished Mia’s sentence. ‘Can you guess how many females called Joanna Vaughn live in this city?’

‘You mean...?’ Mia replied, stunned.

‘Yeah, absolutely. This is four different Joanna Vaughns. And all of them are in full body cast because of you. Four different surgeon teams had to work simultaneously to apply casts with different colours so that the doctors and nurses could distinguish the patients. So, now, we have got White Joanna, Blue Joanna, Green Joanna and Red Joanna.’

‘I..., I...’

‘This sh*t has happened because of you. You’ve told the damn Georgia Sanders that your mafia informer is called Joanna Vaughn,’ Annabelle reminded her.

‘Ms Sanders came to the hospital, and she told me that she would help me...’

‘Ms Marshall, you mustn’t have been so idiot. Georgia isn’t a saint but she is a messenger girl of the mob.’

‘Oh, she can’t be! Her right arm was fully casted, and she told me that Carlo broke her hand and all her fingers.’

‘No, she had a fake cast to deceive you. Both of her arms was healthy and sound when I saw her in the downtown last afternoon.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Mia said, watching the photos of the poor Joannas in their coloured full body casts.

‘Just after you told her that your informer was Joanna, there was an attack series on these females. All of them suffered serious fractures, however, some of them are in a more severe medical state than others. Look at White Joanna: this is only a simple full body cast. She will be in it for six to nine months. Not a short period, but survivable. But, there is Red Joanna. Her bones weren’t broken but smashed. She’ll need several operations, and the doctors can’t guess for how long she will be a living mummy.’

Mia got silent. Getting suspicious, the wheelchair-bound journalist raised her head up. Nowadays, everyone kept asking questions to get access to her Mafia databank. If all Joanna Vaughns was in hospital that meant that Georgia was a rat (admittedly, a gorgeous rat) working for the gangsters. Or, simply, Annabelle told her a bold lie, and Georgia was innocent, and there was an information leak in the attorney’s office. Either Georgia or Annabelle tried to mislead her. Or both of them...

‘Which one is your real informer?’ Annabelle asked.

‘None of them,’ Mia told her the truth to know what would happen.

‘So, did you simply tell her a name at random?’

‘Honestly, I didn’t trust Georgia. I couldn’t tell the real name to her.’

‘You can trust me. You can tell it to me.’

‘Holy sh*t. You must be working for the mob, like anyone else.’

‘Thanks, that’s the perfect answer,’ Annabelle nodded.

‘And is there anything more?’

‘I came here to warn you. If the Mafia realises that none of the four Joannas was the informer, then Carlo the Castmaker will come back here to ask you some more questions.’

Mia closed her eyes, and she imagined that she would be the fifth victim in the full body cast. Maybe, the integument including her would be yellow. Yellow was a cool colour – she thought.

‘Oh, great. And what can I do?’

‘Run away,’ Annabelle suggested. Then she corrected her advice, looking at Mia, who was planted in the wheelchair, heavily confined in two long leg casts. ‘Or rather, roll away. Right now!’

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 5)     Next (Part 7)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 6
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: castPart 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 21 April, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 5

Mia wiped away the tears of pain from her eyes. She remembered her talk to Jonathan, who had said that it was a dangerous business for anybody to write about the Mafia. Afterwards, she recalled her bad dream, in which she had become a freaky chimaera, born from the remembrance of the burnt amputee Cynthia and the heavily cast-confined Celia. They were the women, whom Jonathan, the Quisling had showed to Mia to deter her from investigation.

In different ways, both Cynthia and Celia had experienced the power of the gangsters. And, now, it was Mia’s turn to suffer.

Though the state of things was far less serious than in her nightmare, Mia couldn’t decide what the worst was. Could it be the dull pain of the crushed bones she felt despite the painkillers circulating in her blood? Or was it the unceasing itch, which tortured her as the soft cast padding adhered to the skin, and it kept irritating her all the time? Or was it just the feeling that she was confined to a bed, and all that she could do was to look at her broken legs?

Mia endured the throbbing soreness that flooded from the crushed limbs toward her brain. Two big things occupied a good part of the bed, as there was a pair of big casts encasing her lower limbs. Half-sitting in the hospital bed, she bent forward and tried to rub the aching legs, however, her fingers met the unyielding and rough surface of the leg casts instead of the living flesh. The thick shells were so extended that their smoothly curved upper rims rubbed the sensitive skin of the loins. From there, the hard dressing ran down to capture every bit of the injured body members. Certainly, the casts froze the tights, and they disabled the slightly-flexed knees, as well as they incapacitated the lower parts including the feet and all the toes. She couldn’t see the crushed extremities because of the uncountable layers of dressing encircling them. Each of the badly broken toes was separately enshrouded and surrounded by tight layers of protective casts. Only ten tiny pink islands surfaced the ice white ocean of casts.

Just to give Mia some inspiration, the hoping doctors added rubber walking heels on the hard soles of the bulky feet casts, however, she knew that the big, weighty and rigid medical rinds robbed away the rights to move on her own.

Both of the tube-like long leg casts were suspended in mid-height in the air, homed by well-padded slings, which motionlessly clang down from the silver-coloured aluminium rods. At the other end of the ropes in front of Mia’s bed, a pair of big lead columns was hooked to keep the well-engineered medical seesaw balanced.

Sighing, the girl gave up the fight to rub the irritated skin, which was perfectly hidden below the impenetrable cast protection. Mia fell back onto the pillows behind her back. Seeing Jonathan, she had no more impulse to blame him.

‘Why did you do that?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘I know that it was you. You were the only one, who knew that I had collected evidence against the Mafia.’

‘I terribly sorry for what happened to you,’ Jon said, kept looking at the immense casts swaddling Mia’s legs from hips to the tips of the toes. ‘But I think that two leg casts are much better than being in a full body cast or in a full body bandage.’

‘Oh, did you think that they would invite me to a tea party?’

‘Mia, I like you. But I love my family better, and I don’t want to lose them. I’ve shown you my sister and that cast-wrapped mayor candidate, too. What else do you want me to do? Please, I plead with you to be a rational girl. Please, please, do what they want, give them what they wish for, and no one will hurt you anymore.’

‘Should I be another good sheep in the flock?’

‘If you want to survive. Your casts will be removed within a couple of months, and then you can go back to live an everyday life. But no one can give back any normal life to my sister. You already know what can wait for you at the end of the wrong road.’

‘You are a coward!’ Mia shouted so loudly that the bedframe started to resonate, and its echo could move even the weighty casts, too. Then she closed her eyes not to see him, the collaborator.

‘Who is a coward?’

The voice didn’t belong to Jonathan. Mia turned left, as far as she could. Her area to move was significantly limited due to the legs, which were fettered in casts and were chained in slings. The bedridden journalist saw a young woman appearing in the hospital room.

The guest was decently dressed to demonstrate that she was in an important position. The hair worn in a bun and a pair of fashion spectacles supplemented the elegant clothes she wore. Though its dark blue colour suited the set of clothes, the neck sling in which she cradled the cast-encased right arm was the only thing that spoiled the overall picture.

Her cast had to be full, however, the long sleeves of the dress hid the upper part of the hard dressings. The visible part of the blue fibreglass shell started around the elbow, which was flexed at a right angle so that the arm could find an unparalleledly comfortable pose in the heavily padded neck sling. The medical dressings enfolded the whole forearm, and, also, it put out of action all the fingers and the toes. The wounded thumb was frozen in a tower-like cast extension, which was vertically positioned to the main mass of the arm cast. The other fingers were exaggeratedly swaddled, hence the end of the arm cast had the appearance of being a sketchy-designed kitchen glove.

Mia peered at the visitor blessed with the long arm cast, and she already forgot to answer her question.

‘Who is a coward?’ the guest inquired once again.

‘Oh, not you,’ Mia replied. ‘Have you seen a man here?’

‘Yes, he’s just rushed away.’

At the second glance, when Mia didn’t focus on her cast, she recognised the female. Being the youngest deputy of the district attorney in the state, Georgia Sanders had some kind of fame. Truly, she wasn’t only famous and clever but she was as gorgeous as an actress starring a blockbuster.

‘When I heard what happened to you, I rushed here to meet you, Ms Marshall,’ Georgia said.

‘Oh, you don’t need to be here,’ Mia said, carefully, insisting on the story she had worked out. ‘It was just a simple but stupid accident. When I got back home, and I saw that the door was open, and the flat was robbed, thus I rushed down the stairs to call for help. But the steps were wet, and...’

To highlight the result, Mia stretched out her arms to touch the inflexible coatings disabling the crushed legs.

‘Oh, really?’ Georgia asked with such an intonation that expressed her disbelief.

‘I know that it’s so hard to believe but only a wrong step is enough to break two legs, especially in a dark staircase. Although I’ve already talked about it to the caretaker to fix the lamps in the corridor,’ Mia told her created story defiantly.

‘You should stop lying to me, Ms Marshall,’ Georgia warned her. She moved her healthy arm to the cast-wrapped one resting in the neck sling. The sound fingers of the left hand started to cuddle the bulky bump-out of the arm cast, which deeply embedded all the aching digits of the injured limb. ‘We’re on the same page. I know who your violent visitor was.’

‘And now what? Will you arrest him?’ she probed her.

‘This is not so easy. My hands are mostly tied. And, especially, now, the right one is casted, too,’ she said with some sour irony. ‘You know this city, Ms Marshall, and you know very well how things work here. We don’t know in whom we can trust. Cops, judges, politicians... and journalists – all of them are on the paylist of the Mafia.’

‘And what about the deputy district attorneys?’ Mia inquired.

Before Georgia replied, she caringly moved the casted arm out of the sling to show Mia how sizeable and restrictive the shell was. From armpit to fingertips, one single contiguous dressing covered Georgia’s broken limb.

‘You’ve got good reasons to distrust me, so I’ll tell you something. Officially, I fell down the stairs yesterday. Translated: Carlo the Castmaker came to my place last evening, too.’

‘Oh, jeez,’ Mia said, sinking deep into the pillows.

‘I’m here to help you, Ms Marshall. Or, rather, we can help each other,’ she explained, while she put the big LATS back so that the sling could gently rock it.

‘How?’

‘Please, give me access to the database that you’ve collected. It would be a huge support for our case, and I swear it would mean a K.O. punch for the Mob.’

‘Don’t be crazy, Ms Sanders. Most likely, this database is my only leverage against the gangsters.’

‘This database makes you a target.’

‘So, you told me how I could help you. But how can you help me? With some magic to heal my broken legs?’ Mia asked.

She knocked the rigid top layers of the casts, which handicapped her lower limbs, and the noise she made sounded like when hitting a stone.

‘With a new residence far away from here. In a nice and quiet place,’ Georgia replied.

‘Your offer sounds good. However, I heard that even the witness protection program was hacked.’ Mia mentioned, thinking of the poor Moira Johnson, who could be detained in the infamous Section B.

‘Ms Marshall, perhaps, I’m asking too much, so I don’t want you to accept this agreement right here and right now. But there could be some way for you to indicate your positive intention for accepting our hopeful cooperation.’

‘What?’

‘Tell me the name of your informer, who helped you to build up this database.’

‘I didn’t have any informer.’

‘Without an assistance of an insider, you wouldn’t have been able to write your articles. I would like to meet her or him. Disrupting the Mafia from inside – that would be the perfect storm,’ Georgia spoke, determined. ‘I want to save this hero. I want to find him or her before Carlo the Castmaker would find this person.’

To be detached from pressure, Mia closed her eyes and got silent for a while. Unhurriedly considering what Georgia said, she replied.

‘Joanna Vaughn,’ she told the name, seemingly regretting doing it.

‘Thank you very much,’ she expressed her gratitude. ‘I swear that it will be an important day in the history of the war on organised crime. You and your informer will be watched all day and all night, Ms Marshall,’ Georgia said happily and stormed out of the room.

to be continued

cast, amputation <--Previous (Part 4)     Next (Part 6)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 5
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: castPart 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 18 April, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 4

Getting soaked in the heavy rain, Mia regretted the impulsive decision that she had got out of Jonathan’s car. Yet, having no other choice, she just looked up at the dark clouds, then she kept walking in the bad weather for hours. The dusk was falling, when she got home, being very cold. Exhausted, she had barely had the strength to take off the wet clothes, and instantly she simply fell in the bed.

Her dreams were upsetting, sprung from the things she had experienced in the sleepy St Helen’s Nursing Home. Mia imagined that she found herself in an unfamiliar place. In her dream, the bed, in which she was settling, was fully covered by a transparent plastic wrap. Maybe was it a quarantine room? – Mia wondered, smelling the strong odour of medical disinfectants. But, then, looking at her wounded body, she realised that her second guess was right: she was put in an oxygen tent.

She didn’t know what happened to her. However, the attack or the accident had to be horrible. A contiguous piece of cast cocooned her, or, to be exact, what was left of it.

She got horrified, seeing that two of the four limbs were missing. Instead of the right arm and the right leg, she could see just the empty air. Yet, the stumps weren’t free but they were densely swathed in casts, as well. The remaining left arm was captured in this kind of hard bandages, too, kept far away from the bandaged body with a long bar, which connected the arm to the trunk. The shoulder spica cast was immense, and it restricted the entirety of the arm down to the wrist. The palm and fingers were free of cast, however, these body members were so tightly gauzed that her bulkily-bound hand looked like a formless snowball.

The left leg was in a full cast, too. Elevated in the air, the limb was clinging in a cotton-padded sling, which hung down from a bar mounted to the upper structure of the bed. Mia checked her body, finding it mantled in an unyielding cast suit. Narrowly following all curves of her shape, the white protective covering was flat, but for the breasts, which was hidden below the cast forming frozen waves.

The noise of an opening door stopped Mia from studying her wrecked soul case. Blurred by the oxygen tent, at first, the visitor was hardly recognisable. However, as he approached the bed, Mia worked out that it had to be Jonathan. Her boss peered at the girl, who was lying under the medical enclosure.

‘I warned you to stop. But you were stubborn, thus you were punished,’ he said. ‘I feel sorry for you, but now I am brave enough to tell you how stomach-turning you look like.’

He unfolded the oxygen tent to give a mirror to Mia. Seeing the disgusting reflection of her face, the girl screamed out. And...

...after the feverish hours, the Mia opened her eyes. Sweating, she just gazed at the ceiling, just being glad that she had owned all the four limbs, and she wasn’t trapped in gigantic gauzes and confining casts in an intensive care unit.

Determined, she had a lot to do during the morning. After getting up, she made a copy of the background information, which she had collected for the article series she was writing about the Mafia. Then she put the files in two suitcases, which she planned to store in safe places. Hmm, what about a bank? – she asked herself. Even if her computer would be stolen or her flat would be robbed, she would have a hard copy of her work in hideaways.

The bags filled with papers were damn heavy, while she pulled them down to her car. Panting in the side of the street, she stopped to drop the heavy load to the pavement. Her car, a green Honda was near, parking by the side of the street. The key was already in her hand to open its door, and she extended her arm to... when she suddenly didn’t finish the automatic movement.

Mia recalled the story of the explosion, which had roasted Jonathan’s sister. She shivered, fearing that the Mafia started to plant bombs in the cars again.

Although Mia didn’t know too much about improvised explosive devices, she assumed that the thing she was looking for wouldn’t be a black cylinder displaying well-readable and flashing red digits. After walking around the vehicle, she boldly bent down to lie on the dusty ground. She checked the bottom of the car, but she didn’t see any suspicious thing attached to the rusty undercarriage. Then she recalled what a trained security guard would do. She opened her handbag to search for a small make-up mirror. Though this way of examination was far from professional, she was calmed down a bit when finding nothing. Finally, she got up to wipe the dust off her dress.

However, Mia knew that there was something more to see. She walked to the front of the car and lifted up the bonnet. Around the engine, everything seemed normal and unmanipulated. Slamming down the hood, she damned, thinking that searching for car bombs every day would be the new normal for the rest of her life.

Though she found nothing, her sixth instinct triggered a wailing alarm bell in her mind. Feeling watched, Mia turned around to spot a tall man in a black jacket, with a mocking smile on his face. Exchanging glances, he stepped away and disappeared from the street corner, where he had been.

Maybe, merely her imagination played with her. Urged by the time, Mia went on carrying out her plan. She put the suitcases into the car and started to drive toward a bank. She checked the rear-view mirror so often that she almost run into a lorry, which was suddenly halted by red light. In the last second, Mia braked hard to avoid the traffic accident.

Carrying one of the suitcases, she appeared in the bank, where she hired a safe deposit box. Mia gladly hid the documents in the steel container of the steel-walled vault. She supposed that she could run out of time. She moved more quickly. She managed to get rid of the first bag, but, just to play safe, she would have to place the copy of the files in another bank, as well. Walking toward the next destination, she kept turning back for so many times that her neck started to hurt, but she wanted to know whether there was somebody following her. But, unluckily, she wasn’t a trained spy, and there was a lot of people around her in the downtown.

Yet, the gut feeling said that she was shadowed. For several times, she saw the black-haired man with a dark jacket. When leaving the building, she trembled, seeing a window-shopping man, whom she had spotted slinking around her house before.

Already coming home, Mia worked out a more hopeful explanation for the intention of the man, who kept following her. What if this guy was a private detective or a bodyguard, whom Jonathan hired to secretly protect her? Or he could be a good cop, but Mia called into question if there were any good cops in the city at all.

Maybe, she would ask a question to Jonathan about this man, Mia planned, after she parked the car in front of the block of houses. She went up to her second-floor apartment. Having opened the door, she stepped in and turned on the light in the small hallway.

Frightened by the sight, she released the shopping bags she was carrying. With heavy ‘thuds’, the filled paper packets landed on the floor. Mia discovered mess everywhere in her home, which used to be a neat and tidy nest. She faced the result that somebody had systematically searched through every corner of her flat. The pieces of furniture were turned upside down. The contents of the all the drawers were dumped on the floor. The doors of the wardrobes were opened, and her clothes were lying in piles in front of them.

And, in the middle of the jumble, there was a middle-aged, black-haired man, settling in a sofa. Desecrating Mia’s favourite couch, he calmly turned the pages of an Asimov novel, which she had bought two days ago.

‘Oh, please, get in and take a seat. We must speak,’ the intruder offered her a place in her own home.

Mia, who was still standing by the entrance of her robbed home, bewitchedly followed the orders.

‘Can I spoil your fun, Miss Marshall?’ he asked and tossed away the book. The novel landed on the top of the knee-high piles, which were made of the books removed from the bookshelves. ‘Don’t waste your time with reading it. It isn’t as good as the critics say, especially the first chapter. By the way, you’re late a bit.’ He said, looking at his watch. ‘Parking problems? The neighbours occupied your parking place again?’

‘Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my home?’ Mia asked, outraged. ‘The door was shut...’

‘A closed door is not a problem for me. You’re the one, who is a problem here,’ he said and stood up from the chair.

‘Who are you?’ Mia asked again and retreated toward the door, which was left open.

‘Just wasting our time, Ms Marshall. You can’t escape.’

Not caring about the warning, Mia ran down the stairs. Unhindered, she got to the first floor, hoping that she could disappear. But she noticed two suspicious people standing by the main entrance of the house. Realising that she was trapped, she returned to her flat with a head cast down.

‘As I told you, you must stay here, Ms Marshall,’ he welcomed the returning girl. ‘I am Carlo. There’s a little problem in our nice town. You’ve made Mr Calabrese very sad. We..., I mean Mr Calabrese and everyone, who is working for him, are a big, happy family. However, we’ve found a black sheep in the flock.’

Listening to the parable, Mia was just standing there, shaking in the middle of her room.

‘What do you want to do to me?’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m just a simple repairman, and I am here to fix some wrong issues.’ Meanwhile, the criminal grabbed the receiver of her phone and called a number. ‘Ms Marshall, please tell the duty editor that you don’t want your article to be published anymore. And you’ve lost all your documents,’ he said and stretched out his arm to offer the receiver for Mia.

‘What if...?’

‘Your imagination is too poor to work out the consequences,’ Carlo told her.

Cornered, Mia gave up and took the receiver over. She never imagined that she would break so easily. However, it was already a lost battle, since Jonathan insisted on rejecting the articles. With trembling voice, she repeated the words to the secretary of the editor-in-chief.

‘Well done, good girl,’ he praised Mia after she finished the phone conversation.

Carlo just went away, passing the girl in despair. Shivering, Mia was left alone in her ruined home, not knowing what to do. Her feet rooted onto the floor. At first, she was happy for surviving this meeting, and she hated herself for obeying his orders. However, the delight was too early as she heard some noise coming from her back. The man, who called himself Carlo, returned. Obviously, he would hurt her. Very much.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I almost forget to do something important. Mr Calabrese told me that I must give you some presents that remind you for a long time that you shouldn’t have put your beautiful nose in the business of someone else.’

While listening to the quiet yet threatening words, the girl sensed a wet spot growing around the middle part of the jeans covering her loins. In unlimited fear, thinking that her nightmare about her burnt and crushed self would come true, Mia pissed herself.

to be continued

cast <--Previous (Part 3)     Next (Part 5)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 4
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputationPart 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 7 May, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 3

Feeling excluded from the nascent sisterly relation between the girls, Jonathan was already walking back to the car. Yet, he turned back to see Mia standing by Cynthia’s wheelchair, kindly chatting with the quad amputee. However, noticing her boss moving away, Mia said goodbye to her new friend. Kept gazing at them, Jon stopped to let Mia catch up.

‘You shouldn’t have talked to her in this style,’ Jonathan reproached the young journalist.

‘Your sister needs honest words and not white lies and empty sympathy. Cynthia doesn’t want you to mourn her. She's alive.’

‘You don’t know how mentally fragile she is. Her cynical style is just the tough surface she shows. Do you know why we had to remove her artificial hands? Because she tried to commit suicide on the very first day when she got them.’

‘You must trust her. She’d deserve a second chance.’

‘You can be her honorary sister, but it’s my brotherly duty to protect her. Even from herself.’

‘Jonathan, this is not brotherly love. This is obsession.’

‘You don’t understand anything. Cynthia spent one-third of her life in hospitals and nursing homes. It happened because of me,’ Jon said, recalling the horrendous scene again as his sister had left the office with the keys of the company car. ‘For ten years, I’ve done everything to correct this mistake. But all I could do was nothing. She used to be a beauty queen in the college, and now I am not brave enough to tell her how stomach-turning she looks like.’

‘You and your parents should accept that she has changed.’

‘Mia, we are not here to analyse the connection between Cynthia and me,’ Jon tried to shut down this part of the discussion as Mia touched a sore point. ‘I brought you here to show you whom you could turn into if you fight the Mob.’

‘I can take the risk.’

‘You’re crazy. You cannot imagine what my sister went through.’

‘If a car bomb...’

‘No, car bombs are old-school. Bruno The Bomb-Builder has retired. The Mafia changed the ways how it handles the black sheep. They apply such low-key retaliation, which isn’t as unmissable as vehicles exploding in open streets.’

‘Oh, and what is that?’

‘I’ll show you the results,’ Jon said, and he began to walk quickly toward the opposite corner of the big yard.

Mia followed her. The couple stopped to study two nurses, who were busy with propelling the wheelchair of a seriously disabled patient. The sitting female was incapacitated not because of paralysis or amputation but because of the tremendous amount of casts, which stopped her from moving her body members.

The vastest piece of the medical shells was a single-piece cast suit of considerable size, which tightly hugged the entire trunk. Or to be exact, this cast was more than a bulky body cast. Because of its upper extension, it was a Risser cast. Its armour-like huge and flat front parts easily blurred the shapes of her upper body. The thick upper rims of the cocoon reached up to the chin line, and its back part behind the skull was like a head restrain moulded from cast. Although it wasn’t as severely restrictive as a head-wrapping Minerva cast, it could almost perfectly capture the head, taking away the most of the possibilities from the upper body to move.

Besides of the body cast, which kept the feminine figure firmly fixed, the patient wore several more casts, too. Unluckily for her, both of the arms were locked in long arm casts. Bound in bandages from shoulders to the base of the fingers, the cast-captured arms settled on the cushiony armrests of the wheelchair. The hard bandages started just below the shoulders, and they solidly flowed down to swaddle everything before stopping at the wrists, thus the two big pieces of arm cast made her upper limbs unusable. However, the arms casts weren’t attached to the body cast, since there was a slight gap between them.

To make her completely helpless, two identical fibreglass shells fettered the entire lower limbs, except for the toes, which lied on stable cast toe plates, or small extensions to the sole of the LLC. Firmly confined in a pair of long casts, the stretched-out legs rested on plastic legrests, jutting out like white tubes.

‘Do you know her?’ Jon asked Mia.

Though the wounded female was a bit familiar, the journalist just shook her head after seeing the pale face and the short brown hair of the heavily casted patient. Considering her white complexion, Mia supposed that she had been locked in a hospital room for a long time.

‘Celia Kellers,’ he solved the riddle after Mia couldn’t answer.

‘Do you mean that she is the one, who was hit by a car just before she could announce that she would run for mayor? But it was one and half years ago! And is she still in hospital?’

‘Yes, officially, it was a simple hit-and-run accident. Now, I’m telling you what happened in real. A heavy SUV rolled back and forth over her body for six times. Compared to the supersized full body cast she had until now, this one is already a great improvement for her.’

‘Was it a Mafia job?’

‘The only sin she had that she campaigned for a Mafia-free city. And she received the fitting punishment,’ he drew the cynic conclusion. ‘Look, this is like using a gun with a silencer. Nowadays, the Mafia flies under the radar. Blowing up the cars of the ones who colour out of the line can cause unwanted collateral damage. But if you are hit by a car, and you’ll spend half of your life in big casts... well, it’s a boring story, and no one will be interested.’

‘They put the disobeying ones into big casts to remove them from public life. Great,’ Mia interpreted the sentences. ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’

Next, Mia looked at the group of nurses taking care of the cast-wrapped Celia. The wheelchair halted, and one of the nurses walked forward to grab gently the long leg casts. The nurse slowly removed the cast-wrapped limbs from the leg rests and lowered them on the pavement. When the leg casts landed on the ground, the nurses hugged Celia’s body, which was entirely moulded around with unbending casts, and helped the patient to stand up.

‘Today’s dose of movement therapy is a distance of thirty feet,’ the nurse capturing Celia’s left arm told the patient the designated target.

‘Thirty feet? It’ll last forever,’ Celia said, relatively gladly. Although the movement abilities were very restricted, she enjoyed bathing in the sunshine after seeing the artificial lights of the hospital room for months.

‘No problem, Mrs Kellers,’ the other nurse said. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

Standing on her sides, the two nurses supported Celia, preventing her from falling. Kept in balance, she started her snail-paced walk. Perhaps, she was too weak to move, or the weight of the immense casts was multiplied by gravity. Inch by inch, she struggled hard to move the legs hindered by the heavy long leg casts. She worked hard, but the bulky dressings dragged her back, and just after four steps, she stopped to gather strength.

‘If you don’t stop chasing the Mafia, you’ll be taken here,’ Jon warned Mia. ‘Maybe, you’ll end up in the Section B.’

‘What is the Section B?’

‘You didn’t know it, although you wrote articles about the Mob?’

‘I’ve just started to scratch the surface.’

‘The Section B is the darkest secret of this nursing home. Run indirectly by the Mafia, it’s like an inverse prison, in which the good ones are sentenced and captured. The persons, who are not cooperative enough, land there to be buried in casts until they die. This is a perfect solution: there aren’t any martyrs any longer.’

‘And what do you know about this place?’

‘Not too much. Just some rumours. For example, there was a female called Moira Johnson, who took part in the witness protection program. However, the Mob found her. And, allegedly, she is somewhere there...,’ he pointed at the furthest building far beyond the trees. ‘In a full body cast. For nine years.’

‘Great. So do you think that this is my future? Then I’ll have got a tremendous amount of free time.’

‘This is not funny.’

‘Yeah, this is serious... But Celia isn’t in the Section B,’ Mia said, peering at the badly broken politician, who sweat blood to relearn walking.

‘Yeah, even the exemplar of the incorruptible mayor candidates bent the knee after she was freed from a full body cast. Everybody breaks.’

Obviously, after her horrible full body cast experience, Celia had submitted to the power of the criminals, whom against she had crusaded in all her life. Well, Celia would be an excellent collaborator - Mia thought. The disappointed journalist secretly hoped that her boss would be more supportive, and he would tell her that she should continue the investigation. But Jon said anything more. They were already in the car heading back to the city when they began to talk about this topic again.

‘You told me that everybody breaks. How could they crush your resistance?’ Mia asked.

‘My boss died. My sister was almost burnt alive. Next week, the archive of the newspaper was set on fire, and all the documents were destroyed. Is this not enough?’ Jon asked, and his fingers crazily grasped the steering wheel.

‘I feel there is something more,’ Mia guessed.

‘Well, there is. Two days after Cynthia’s accident... I already knew how serious it was, and I didn’t know whether she would stay alive... I reached a compromise with Mr Calabrese.’

‘With the almighty boss of the Mafia?’ Mia asked, disbelieving as if Jon had become a member of the Mob.

‘Mr Calabrese told me that they wanted to kill me, obviously. And they were terribly sad to hear what happened to Cynthia.’

‘Terribly sad?’ Mia repeated with offended intonation. ‘And then you kissed the ring of the Godfather, didn’t you? And what is included in your unholy agreement?’

‘If I help them, they help my sister. I told you that I did anything to save her. I meant it seriously. We needed a tremendous amount of money to pay the cost of her countless operations and permanent treatment. The 24/7 nursing of a burnt, blind and quad amputee in a premium health centre is very expensive. To be honest, Mr Calabrese funds her staying in the St Helen’s, indirectly.’

‘This is getting better and better. And does she know it?’

‘Of course, not. No one knows it, except for you. Legally, I pay all her medical invoices. But my salary is well above average. I earn much more money than I deserve for this position. In return, it’s my task to stop every journalist from investigating the organised crime activities. I must control The Local Herald with strong hands.’

‘Geez, you have sold your soul to gangsters.’

‘Yes, this is what I've done, clearly. And I would do it again to keep her alive. This is the reason why I cannot publish your articles. Apart from that, I congratulate you on it. A good story exists even if there is nobody to read it.’

‘Jon, I’ve met anybody, who was brave enough to talk to me. Do you think that all I did was unnecessary? Someone must defy the Mafia... Hey, stop. I want to get out!’ she ordered, feeling sick when seeing her opportunist boss.

Jonathan halted the car. Not saying goodbye, Mia simply got out and slammed the door. The vehicle rolled away, and, left alone, she began walking along the roadside toward the town.

Seeing Mia in the rear-view mirror, Jonathan knew that he couldn’t control her any longer. Worst of all, Mia was a threat to Cynthia. He picked up the mobile phone and he dialled a known but rarely used number.

‘Hello, this is Jonathan Taylor from The Local Herald. I’d like to talk to Mr Calabrese.’

to be continued

amputation, disabilities <--Previous (Part 2)     Next (Part 4)--> cast, amputation
Mia and the Mafia, Part 3
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilities, Part 3: castPart 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 11 April, 2018
Loading...
Mia and the Mafia, Part 2

To discover the destination, Mia slowly got out of Jonathan’s car. Standing by the vehicle, she looked around, finding herself in the middle of a forest. Beside the car park, she saw the friendly scatter of the houses beyond the trees. The mind-calming peacefulness touched her heart, and she just started to the listening to the chorus of birdsong. This remote location was a perfect place for anyone to hide from the world.

‘What is this place?’ Mia asked.

‘Officially, it is tagged as a special residential district on the maps. The St. Helen Nursing Home was built for the patients who need for long-term medical care. Each of them has it her or his own apartment like this one,’ he said, pointing at a building, which was the closest to them. ‘They live here with their caregiver or assistant.’

‘And does Cynthia live here, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why doesn’t she live with you? Or with your parents?’

‘After she was released from hospital, she was with mammy and daddy for a short time. Of course, my parents treated and served her, but they didn’t stop crying, and they always blamed me for what happened to her. Cynthia was fed up with this, and she moved to our place. But, frankly..., this is very hard to tell you..., the kids were too young at that time, and they were terribly afraid of my sister. Because of the horrible burn scars, they didn’t recognise her. They called her Creepy Monster, and they didn’t believe that the Creepy Monster living in the room upstairs was their loved Aunt Cynthia. When she heard it, she didn’t want to live with us, either. And partly, she was right, but I wasn’t able to stop the kids. So, Cynthia decided to withdraw from social life. She hasn’t left this estate for eight years.’

‘Oh, this is so sad.’

‘I came here to meet her every month. But...,’ he said, just before they crossed the gate of the sanatorium. He stopped, and he grabbed Mia’s hand to halt her, too. ‘I must tell you everything about her to prepare you for the sight. I don’t want you to be shocked.’

‘I’m a tough girl.’

‘Maybe, not tough enough for this. Well, somehow, she could survive the car bomb, and she could be saved from burning alive. But the consequences of the blast and the heat were mostly incurable. She had suffered third-degree burns all over her body. The surgeons had resuscitated her for ten times in the first two weeks alone. She was in a temporary coma for one hundred days. She underwent more than fifty operations in the first year. The explosion tore both of her legs off. Although she was treated in a germ-free room of the intensive station, her wounds became septic. To save her life, the surgeons had to amputate both arms. Due to the explosion, she lost her eyesight. And the blast wave damaged the auditory system, too.

‘Do you mean that she’s got no arms and legs, and she is blind, mostly deaf, and her skin is full of severe scarring?’ Mia said, just to be sure that she comprehended Jonathan’s story.

Jonathan just nodded to confirm the horrible summary.

‘Cynthia was treated in an intensive care unit for ten months. Later, she was under the care of a sub-intensive room of a surgery department for one more year. Then she lived with us for a couple of weeks. Finally, she moved here.’

‘Oh,’ she sighed, listening to the timeline of tragedy.

‘After she was allowed to leave the isolated chamber, she was transferred to a normal hospital department. Can you imagine how heart-breaking it was for us to personally meet her for the first time when she was released from the sterile room? When I saw her, I could see nothing else but a head and torso fully swaddled in white gauzes. She wore patches over her eyes, and she could hardly speak. And when she heard mammy's voice, she started to cry terribly, soaking the bandages covering her face...’

‘Please, tell me nothing more. I feel prepared.’

Jonathan nodded. Led by her boss, Mia moved toward the grassy yard inside the facility. Just a bit later, he pointed at a place in the middle of the garden.

‘She’s there,’ he said, and changing direction, he started to walk toward a willow tree.

Mia shadowed him, and soon, she, too, could see somebody sitting in a wheelchair. When Cynthia’s assistant could see the visitors coming, he stood up and removed the earphones from Cynthia’s head. By the time Jonathan and Mia got there, the caregiver had already stepped back so that the patient and her visitors could be in private.

Approaching the shadow of the tree, Mia had some time to look closely at Jonathan’s unfortunate little sister. The girl wore a loose T-shirt and sported a pair of shorts. The pieces of clothes were big enough to hide the short stumps of the amputated arms and legs. A wide and padded seatbelt run across her body to glue the disfigured torso onto the softly padded backrest of the wheelchair.

After listening to the story, which her boss had just told her, Mia expected to see a rather scarred face. But, unexpectedly, she couldn’t see anything else but heavy bandages, which encircled the whole complexion from the forehead down to the neck. Besides, Cynthia sported a fashionable baseball cap, and she had a pair of black sunglasses to hide the blind eyes. However, its lenses were big enough to cover a good part of the bandage-bound face, too. Her blond hair was middle-length, yet it appeared to be a wig because of its perfectly cut fashion. And, behind the deformed ears, she wore a pair of big hearing aids to compensate the sensory faculty, which had been heavily demolished in the explosion.

‘Hello, Cynthia,’ Jonathan said while taking a bunch of flowers on the table between the wheelchair and the tree.

‘Hello, golden daisies,’ Cynthia replied, smelling the scent in the air through the overlappingly arranged bandages, which overlaid the nostrils.

‘You’ve got a good nose.’

‘This is the only part of my body, which still works. More or less. By the way, has your wife changed the perfume she uses?’ she turned her blind eyes toward Mia, after sensing the new fragrance.

‘No, this is not Sarah. Let me introduce the new rising star of our newspaper.’

‘I’m Mia Marshall,’ the journalist said, after stepping closer to the wheelchair-bound quad amputee.

‘I used to be Cynthia Taylor.’

Hearing the reply, Mia couldn’t decide whether it was a cynical joke or not.

‘A new operation?’ Jon asked his sister so casually as if they had been talking about the previous day’s supper.

‘Just the usual yearly renovation,’ Cynthia said through the tightly bandaged lips. ‘In total, seventy-third or seventy-ninth. I gave up counting... The doctors want to prepare me for a face transplant.’

‘That sounds good. I brought you a couple of new audiobooks,’ Jonathan said and placed some disks on the wooden table.

‘Thanks.’

‘How are you?’

‘How can I be?’ said the limbless and blind girl, who was nothing else but a gauze-wrapped head and a mutilated torso. ‘But a weird thing happened to me. Nick told me that he loves me.’

‘Nick who?’

‘My new caregiver,’ she turned her head back as if she had been able to see the man, who kept some distance from them. ‘You must meet him. Well, Miss Marshall, what do you think about this relationship?’

‘Well,’ she said, slowly. Cynthia’s open question was like a hit below the belt for Mia. ‘There must be males in the world, who prefer women like you...’

‘Please, go on.’ Cynthia tried to press the answer out of her.

‘I think what you want is more important than what I think. So do you love him, Cynthia?’

‘Nick is a gentleman, but I don’t love him. But I do want to be loved, although I became a Creepy Monster.’

‘You’re not a Creepy Monster,’ Jonathan told her.

‘I know what I know. We’ve talked about it for a thousand times, Jon!’ she cried out. Then she spoke to Mia: ‘My face scared Jonathan’s children to death. I could be a monster in a horror movie without any makeup. I look like as if I had spent a wild night with Hannibal Lecter.’ Then she suddenly hopped to another topic. ‘Why did my brother bring you here? To discourage you?’

‘Ahem...,’ Jonathan coughed.

‘Exactly, Cynthia,’ Mia told her the truth. ‘Your brother doesn’t want me to investigate the Mafia business.’

‘Hey, Mia...,’ Jonathan butted in.

‘I appreciate your openness, Mia,’ Cynthia said. ‘And now, I would like you to be honest with me. Am I a Creepy Monster?’

‘You’re an unpleasant sight, but you are not a Creepy Monster,’ she said.

‘Jonathan, this is what I could call sisterhood. No family members were so open to me. They always obligingly tried to pad my world with soft words. Mia, please be my honorary sister.’

‘With pleasure, Cynthia,’ Mia said.

‘Hey, sis, would you mind telling Jon that he should give back my artificial limbs?’

‘Oh, where are her arms?’ Turning into an interpreter between the siblings, Mia repeated Cynthia’s question.

‘Under repair. It’s too early to bring back,’ he replied in short, not feeling like talking anymore.

to be continued

story <--Previous (Part 1)     Next (Part 3)--> cast
Mia and the Mafia, Part 2
Story summary: along the way of fighting the Mafia, the talented and courageous journalist Mia loses old friends and gathers new enemies. Having unknowingly started a chain of events, years later she has to face the consequences of an old-forgotten lie, which turns up from nothing to take its reprisals just after the big things seemed settled. Gallery folder of this story

Table of content: Part 1: story, Part 2: amputation, disabilitiesPart 3: cast, Part 4: cast, amputation, Part 5: cast, Part 6: cast, Part 7: cast, Part 8: cast, Part 9: cast, Part 10: cast, Part 11: cast, amputation, blindness, Part 12: bandages, Part 13: cast, Part 14: cast

A reader's view: "I enjoyed this chapter just like all the rest, please keep up the great work." comment by llc4me

Personal note: story No. 18 with an "out of the frying pan, into the fire" situation.

Know more about all my stories
: A Guide To My Stories
P.S.1.: I'm not a native English, so if you find any mistakes in the text of the stories, please feel free to mention here or to send me a private Note. Thanks.
P.S.2.: I would be very grateful, if you would find inspirations in my stories to create a picture or to draw illustrations for me.

P.S.3.: Please let me know what you think about the story. Write a comment or leave your review here. I need your feedback. This is my fuel.

Last modified: 7 April, 2018
Loading...

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconkakusenchou:
kakuSenchou Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant
Thanks for the llama!+fav 
Reply
:iconaliencaster:
aliencaster Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! 
Reply
:iconsolidsnakefh:
SolidSnakeFH Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Thanks you for the llama!:)
Reply
:iconaliencaster:
aliencaster Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! 
Reply
:iconhendriw:
hendriw Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thank you for the llama! Have a nice day!
Reply
Add a Comment: