The Crash

By David Van Dorin

The United States economy has collapsed quickly and caused what is now being referred to as "The Crash". The main charter of this story is a former Army mechanic who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism. It is only after the alcohol runs out due to shortages that he is finally able to get sober. The years of self abuse have taken there toll and he finds himself far from his family and friends. He sets off on foot to reach them. Along his way he befriends a single mother and her daughter. A side story follows a career criminal who seeks to get his revenge on those he feels did him wrong. The criminal thrives in the new economy as he builds his own empire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Van Dorin
• Release date: May 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301019106

David Van Dorin

David Van Dorin grew up in Arizona. After high school he joined the Navy as a Hospital Corpsman. He served time in San Diego, California and Yokosuka, Japan. After the military he went on to get his degree as a registered nurse. David was drawn to the excitement of the emergency room and has been doing the night shift in the E.R. since 2001. In his off time he enjoys writing and travel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Life Sucks

Beep, Beep, Beep… What the hell is that damn beeping? Mike said, as he awoke from his sleep. His head pounded as he strained to get his eyes to focus. Slowly a room came into view and he wondered where he was at. He was glancing around his surroundings while in a somewhat dazed state. He challenged his brain to think through the pounding in his skull. The room was lime green and there was a familiar smell in the air. One of first things he saw was a pair of heavy leather wrist restraints applied to both of his wrist and a bandage on his left forearm. The bandaged area on his forearm was soaked through in dried blood and there was a dull pain coming from the area. In his right upper forearm he saw an IV protruding from the bend in his arm. Following the IV line up over his head to the right he saw a half empty bag with a clear yellow colored fluid in it. Ah, what did they call that kind of bag? he thought to himself and then it came to him a banana bag. Some nurse had once been told him that it had vitamins in it to help prevent brain damage in alcoholics. He then turned his attention to that annoying beeping sound that coming from the left side of his pounding head. Mounted over his head was a small television screen of a heart monitor and the beeps were just his own heartbeats. No doubt about it, he was in a hospital room.

As Mike became more aware of his surroundings he was now faced with a sudden urgency. He fought the leather wrist restraints to no avail and then started to call out for help. At the foot of his bed was a large wall of glass with a closed sliding door. The drapes on the windows were opened all the way. He saw hospital staff hurrying past his room while paying little attention to Mike who was slowly getting more frantic. Other people who were most likely patients or family slowed down their pace as they walked past Mike's room. They stared at him as if he was some kind of freak show exhibit. I have to piss!! Mike shouted out. A male staff member in scrubs came stomping into the room and pulled the curtain to the room closed. He pulled a plastic urinal jug out of a rolling cabinet in the corner of the room. The man pulled back Mikes blanket, lifted his gown and put his penis in the opening of the urinal. The staff member held the urinal and then stated You can go now. Mike looked at the staff member puzzled and then said Can you untie my wrist so that I can do this myself? The staff member stated that he was just an emergency room technician and needed the ok from the doctor or nurse to remove the restraints. The tech then said that they were very busy in the ER today, going on to say This is the best I can do; at least they didn’t stick a foley catheter in your penis this time. Mike thought at least that was true and started to piss into the jug. When he finished he asked the tech to send the doc or nurse in to see him.

It took about twenty minutes before a nurse and the tech stalked back into the room. The nurse asked him how he was feeling. Mike said in a sarcastic way, I feel great and then said except for my head feels like I got kicked by a mule and I had to expose myself to your tech over there. The nurse was an older woman who looked displeased to have to deal with Mike. The nurse asked if he remembered what happened. Mike shrugged his shoulders and shook his still pounding head, indicating he didn’t know. The nurse went on to tell him that someone out for a morning jog spotted him lying near the bottom of the creek bed. She went on to tell him that it looked like he stumbled off of a sidewalk, tumbled down an embankment and came to a stop after hitting some sapling trees. The nurse then said that if the trees hadn't stopped him he would have landed in the creek at the bottom of the embankment. She then stated that, at this time of year in Prescott, if he would have landed in the water he would have died from hyperthermia long before someone found him. It took a minute for that to all sink into Mike's throbbing head but as least it explained why it was hurting and why the rest of his body ached.

The nurse then said Now before I remove these wrist restraints I want you to understand a few things. I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time. Mike couldn’t remember what happened last time but nodded his head that he understood. She continued, The first thing I want you to understand is you can’t leave yet, the IV fluids have about another hour left to go into you and I need to get the doctor in to suture up the nasty gash on your arm. She went on to say You’re also still pretty intoxicated and need to stay in this bed, I can’t take the chance that you will fall and hurt yourself worse." Mike stated that he understood and the nurse motioned that it was ok for the tech to remove the wrist restraints. After removing the restraints the tech turned on a television mounted on the far wall. The tech then handed Mike a call light button that had the controls for the television on it. The television was running some story about China as he fell back asleep.

Mike was awoken some time later by the tech bringing in a suture tray followed by a young doctor wearing a dress shirt and a stethoscope around his neck. Mike glanced up and noticed that the IV bag was empty and that the line was no longer attached to him. Mike figured that he must have been asleep for an hour or two, possibly longer. The clock on the wall said three o’clock which he assumed was three in the day time but he wasn’t sure because there weren’t any windows in the room for him to see if it was light or dark out.

The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Turner and went to work numbing, cleaning and suturing the eight inch wound on his left arm. The wound was deep with jagged edges so the doctor took his time and talked as he worked. The doctor stated that judging from his tattoos he was ex-military. Mike told him he did seven years of active duty in the Army. The doctor mentioned that he was Air Force Reserve now following six years of active duty. I noticed your scars on your head, did you get those in combat? Mike replied, Not exactly, I was a mechanic stationed in Iraq during the occupation. I was stationed pretty far back from any action but they used us as drivers to convoy supplies from base to base. An IED took out the truck in front of me and the blast left me in a coma for three weeks. I guess I was lucky as we lost four good soldiers in the blast. I was left with some scars, frequent migraines and hearing loss in my right ear.

The doctor continued to work on the wound and then asked him if he started drinking after he was injured. Mike was caught a little off guard by the bluntness of the question. Mike then stated It’s a long story to which the doctor replied Aren’t they all. Mike said that after being given a medical discharge he returned home to Amarillo, Texas and his wife. He tried to do what was expected of him but things weren’t the same after almost two complete tours in Iraq. He got a job at a manufacturing plant where he put in long hours. His relationship with his wife became more stressed with each year that passed. She didn’t understand what he went through in Iraq and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her all the things he did and saw over there. He started drinking as a way to cope with his feelings. His nightly drinking eventually led him to lose his job. After that he lost his desire to even try to find a new job. His wife struggled to support the both of them while trying to get Mike help for his problems. He credited his wife for hanging in for as long as she did but one night he got arrested for public intoxication. When he was released from jail the following day, he came home to find that she was gone. He lost all hope and his drinking increased to the point that he was at now.

The doctor asked if he had ever gotten help for his problems. Mike went on to tell him about the different programs that he participated in. The military had provided him with some mental health treatment related to post traumatic stress disorder. He didn't think the treatment helped him at all. He did however participate in some group session with other combat veterans that were helpful. All the Psychologist that he saw just prescribe him medications that left him in a daze and barely able to function. He then went on to tell the doctor about how he arrived in Prescott, Arizona.

Mike’s best friend in the Army was Clay Dixon who was from Corpus Christy, Texas. They had met after boot camp while in their school for light wheel vehicle mechanics. Being both from Texas they bonding quickly. They volunteered for all the same duty stations. They had both gotten out of the Army at the same time. Clay had his own problems but did what he could to try to help Mike out. It was Clay who talked Mike into going into a 30 day inpatient treatment program at one the treatment centers in Prescott. He spent an entire day on a Greyhound bus ride from Amarillo to get to the center. When he arrived at the center they could see that he was obviously intoxicated. They explained to him that they were not an alcohol detox center and asked him to return to the facility the next day when he was sober and ready for treatment. He figured that was about two months ago and ever since then he had been homeless and living under the bridge.

The doctor finished up the suturing, asked if he needed anything else and encouraged him to see what services they had available at the local VA hospital. The nurse came back into the room, had him sign a form and told him that he had been discharged. He was told to return in a week to have his sutures removed. Mike figured he would remove the sutures himself as he had done that before. Mike’s clothing was filthy and covered in urine so the tech put them in a plastic bag, brought in some donated clothing that consisting of a pair of burgundy sweat pants and a light blue Montana tourist t-shirt. Mike got dressed and then like a flash he found himself sitting in a chair out in the emergency room waiting room. He had been to many ER’s but he had never seen a waiting area so packed as this one. All the seats were full and it was standing room only. A security guard with a long biker beard was yelling at him from behind a desk Do you have a ride coming? Do you have someone to call for a ride? Mike ignored the security guard. He dug through his bag of filthy clothing and pulled out his old pair of tan Army boots and his heavy winter coat. He put them on, stumbled to the doorway, looked to the sky to get his bearings and started walking south towards downtown.

Chapter 2

Under the Bridge

The hike to the familiar surroundings of downtown Prescott was just over a mile. It was now after 5 p.m. and Mike had to hustle to get to the dinner service at the food bank. Along the way he stopped at a convenience store to pick up a couple bottles of cheap vodka for the night. Mike preferred the cheap brands of Vodka even though his small military disability payment allowed him the funds for the better stuff. He learned that the cheap stuff got him just as intoxicated at the good stuff. Most importantly the cheap Vodka came in plastic bottles that were virtually break proof. You don’t ever want to break your only bottle of alcohol in the middle of the night without a way to get another one. Mike’s only source of income was the small disability payment, but while homeless his only major expense was the cost of liquor. At the counter the clerk rang up the liquor along with some beef jerky. The total came to almost twice as high as it should be. He told the clerk the total was wrong and the clerk just said get use to it. A quick look around the store showed similar higher prices on everything. Mike was in no mood to argue at this point and paid the total with his debit card. Mike made a note in his head to never shop at this convenience store again.

Mike got to the food bank just before they closed the doors to new people. He grabbed a food tray and sat down with a couple guys he knew at a table across the room. This dinner service was different from what he was use to. Normally a Priest would stand behind a pulpit and give a sermon the entire time about how if they gave themselves to God all their problems would be solved. Mike believed in God but didn’t believe in the almost cult like approach the different religions had changed into during the last couple decades. The food bank had pulled out an old 19 inch television on a cart and most of the people had pulled up tables closer to it and were totally memorized by what was happening on the small screen.

One of the regulars at Mike's table was a guy by the name of Slim who was about 45 years old. Slim was sitting at the table looking Mike up and down while smiling. He was taking great amusement out of what Mike was wearing. Finally Slim spoke up and said Jail or ER? to which Mike replied ER. Without beating around the bush Slim asked Mike if he was given any pills when they discharged him. Slim knew Mike didn’t use drugs and he figured it didn’t hurt to ask. Slim's addiction was to anything he could get his hands on. He had been sent to Prescott for drug rehab after one of those reality television shows had done a special on him. He had stayed clean until he completed a program but while in a local halfway house he relapsed. Mike told him that they didn’t give him anything and he wouldn’t have given them to Slim anyway.

Mike took notice to the crowd around the TV and asked the table what was going on. He got a lot of different replies from the table. One guy looked up from his dinner tray just long enough to say who cares? A couple guys replied China with a grumble. One young guy replied Fucking Assholes and then went on to mumble to himself for a while. Mike decided that these guys weren’t up for a good conversation and went about finishing his dinner.

Downtown Prescott was really jumping tonight. The downtown area was nicknamed Whiskey Row for a good reason. Mike could only think of Las Vegas as being a better place for an alcoholic to live. Before heading for his sleeping spot he decided to try to drum up some extra funds which was his nightly routine. He found a large piece of cardboard in a dumpster behind a bar. Broke out his pocket knife and cut it to shape. He then used a sharpie pen to scribe his most successful beggars sign. It read Disabled Iraq Vet, I Need a Beer. Mike thought the sign was simple and to the point. The sign wasn’t his best work and his present outfit of sweats wasn’t quite right but he decided to give it a try and the result was one of his least successful nights ever.

Mike never felt guilty about begging for money even though he was still considered a new beggar by the seasoned professionals. The way Mike figured it he was owed the money that he collected. He had spent seven years of his life making very little money in the Army while trying to make the world a better place. He held the Army largely to blame for his present life. He, like the others before him who died in service before him had paid the ultimate price for the freedom of others. At this point in his life Mike didn‘t care about himself or anyone else. All he cared about was getting enough alcohol into his system that that life was more bearable.

It was getting late and Mike staggered back home. He wasn’t joking about living under the bridge. That is where most of the homeless spent the night as the town didn't have any real homeless shelters. There were several bridges that crossed over Granite Creek that ran right through the center of the town. These bridges became the homes to dozens of people at night. Each bridge had its pluses and minuses. Some were located near public restrooms. Some provided better protection from the elements. Some were less likely to be raided by the local police. Some were just plain dangerous. Mike’s choice was the most popular location of under the big bridge located next to Granite Creek Park about three blocks north of downtown. It had easy access to several stores nearby that carried alcohol and a park bathroom that was open 24 hours a day. It wasn’t one of the safest of places but Mike stood just over 6 foot tall and although he was slightly out of shape he carried a muscular build so few people would dare to mess with him.

There were rules to being homeless that everyone had to follow or you paid the consequences. The number one rule was not to steal from another homeless person. So Mike was furious when he found his backpack missing from his secret hiding spot. Mike had thought he had found a perfect spot to hide his bag during the day when he didn’t need it. The spot was located near the bridge between a business's concrete wall and a thick spiny bush that provided a lot of cover. He didn’t think anyone knew of his secret spot and someone would have to search long to find it even if they knew the general location of it. Staring at the empty spot where his bag was kept Mike became furious. Mike was known for being level headed and in control of his emotions but right at this moment he felt like he wanted to kill everyone. He returned to the bridge for what was going to be a very long cold night without his heavy duty sleeping bag. Huddled around a small camp fire was the usual group of low lives. Sitting right next to Slim was Mike's large army surplus molle backpack. He marched over and picked it up while looking at Slim with rage in his eyes. Slim managed to spit out I was keeping it safe for you. I mean you didn’t come back last night. I forgot to tell you at dinner that I had it and then he repeated I was keeping it safe for you. After a quick search to see that everything was there Mike finished off the Vodka that he had been drinking all night and fell asleep.

When Mike came to the next morning he has on top of Slim repeatedly slamming his head