With no life threatening injuries, the hospital releases me later on that evening. The phone in my pocket's rifled with texts and missed calls from Georgia. Honestly, by the tone of them, she wouldn’t be too heartbroken if ‘Hank’ doesn’t make it back. I sure as shit won’t go back there with those creatures roaming around. No, I made my mind up to end this one way or the other.
As much as it kills me, I hadn’t gone to check on the kids. Not only would it confuse them but there's a chance they’d be in danger if the other me saw that I was there. What the hell would a scumbag like that want with children though? If anything they had to be getting in his way by now. The dangers they could be facing stab at my heart like needle-point blades. I just have to keep going. If I stop long enough to let everything sink in, it will fatally absorb me. I can’t let that happen.
Like depicted in the old television shows and Freaky Friday specials, I figure the only way to get out of this mess is the same way I’d gotten into it. I need to hunt him down, find him and hit him.
My car doesn’t take long to locate, and I feel that I'm running out of time to save myself. I sit around the corner from my own house, cringing inside that someone else was living in it. It's tortuous to picture Hank’s spirit rifling through my drawers, using my toilet and emptying my fridge. I sit in excruciating wait until he decides to leave the house without the kids. I’d gotten my first glance I’d had at them all week through the window earlier. They look slightly bored and sullen, but otherwise unharmed.
I loop my car around a side street on our block, knowing it would come back around to the stop sign the other Todd would have to stop at. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, shove my foot on the gas, and T-bone him as hard as I possibly can.
***
My mind recognizes where it is before my eyes even open. My eyelids illuminate with bright hospital room lighting, and something feels extraordinarily off. I haven’t gained back enough of my mental faculties to place exactly what it is yet. Beeps and whirs of machines drill through my subconscious, slowly forcing me awake. I think that my medical bills would be through the roof, and jokingly hoping that whatever injury that landed me in there would just kill me and get it over with. I didn’t carry that wit for long. As my mind struggles to recount the events of the past week, I dreadfully realize precisely what is wrong with me. I have absolutely no feeling from the waist down.
The interruption of the doctor into the room is a welcome relief from my spiraling thoughts. “Welcome back Mr. Barton,” he jokes. It then occurs to me that he'd referred to me by my actual name. I looked down at my hands and was beyond elated to actually recognize them. “There are a couple of men who would like to talk to you. They’re right outside, I’m going to let them in now for a bit. I’ll be back to check on you soon and we can discuss your prognosis.” He explains gently. My stomach drops to see two uniformed officers enter the room, closing the door behind them.
“Good afternoon sir. First of all we want to say that we’re sorry for all that you’ve been through. The decedent is available for questioning but the damage on the vehicles shows that this was an intentional hit.” The officer has a booming voice despite his short stature. The tag on his chest reads DEPUTY COLLINS.
I hold up a weary hand to interrupt him. “Decedent? Does that mean-?”
Without skipping a beat, the deputy continues. ‘He passed away on scene sir. Tell me, does the name Henry Richards mean anything to you? People around here called him Hank.” I shook my head confusedly. As much as I hate to lie to law enforcement, if anything came to light later on I can easily blame a head injury or confusion.
“M- maybe he had a medical event at the wheel.” I stammer weakly.
“Unfortunately for us, we’ll never know. Even with an autopsy, the damage from the wreck was severe. It’s entirely possible you were in the wrong place at the right time. Vehicular suicide isn’t all closed garages and radiator hoses anymore.” Collins responds. “Thank you for your time sir.”
They leave behind their contact cards before exiting the room. I can see the silhouette of the doctor on the other side of the door waiting to come in. He explains to me that I’ve suffered a spinal injury, and even with intense physical therapy… the chances of me walking again are slim to none. As much as I'm sure it will alter my life completely, at this moment I'm just happy to be myself again.
***
After three long weeks in the hospital, my ex-wife ended up being the one to pick me up and take me home. My insurance company thankfully had covered everything I needed for my aftercare. Brad was a thing of the past and as much as I wanted to hate her, I needed her help to raise our boys. If she was willing, so was I.
The first week home, I sat on my back patio in my new wheelchair. The urge to stretch my legs was unbearable, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. Someone could’ve hacked them off and used them for canoe oars and I wouldn’t have felt it. The dull roar of the boys playing the background soothed my weary soul. I may not have come out whole, but I won the battle for my body and soul. I closed my eyes, basking in my blessings.
From the back of my brain, just above the ears, came a chuckling voice. “You’re not alone Todd, I’m here too.” My stomach flipped, causing me to vomit down the front of my shirt helplessly. Fear hammered through my heart like a jackhammer with recognition.
It was Hank’s voice.
---
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