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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 specialised 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 severely burnt, her outlook to 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 thigh 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 would check out of hospital soon,’ 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’d 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 closefitting 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 the 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. Apparently, 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's 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 meek 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 in 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
‘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 specialised 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 severely burnt, her outlook to 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 thigh 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 would check out of hospital soon,’ 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’d 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 closefitting 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 the 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. Apparently, 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's 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 meek 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 in 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
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.
Stats: length: 1875 words, estimated reading time: 7 min 29 sec.
Last modified: 12 May, 2018
Comments13
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It is unrealistic that a military complex has no backdoor camara plus there would still be patrols so there will be no much time. Mia just has to make noise despite what they do (really these four Joanna's were not gone thru a psychotherapy to overcome everything and forgive Mia over this?). Even the Military had not make a background check, here we have a major plot hole.