Serious Consequences: What happens when you lose everything... including your identity?

By David Witherington Stewart

Aggie Upton wakes up from a coma to find her house destroyed, her husband in federal prison, all her assets frozen, and her son staying with a hostile sister-in-law. A member of the syndicate tells Aggie that Leroy Greene will kill her and her son if they talk to the police. Aggie and a friend open a secr

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Jul 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890910882

David Witherington Stewart

David Witherington Stewart is a Florida-based author. He graduated in 1959 from the University of Florida with a BS in Physics. During the period 1957-1995, he was lead engineer, supervisor, and manager for the Atlas, Titan, Apollo, and Space Shuttle. From 1995 to 2009, he owned L & D Consulting, a company that specialized in grants and proposals. He received certificates in novel writing from Humber College and the Writers' Digest School and started writing in 2006.

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Serious Consequences: What happens when you lose everything… including your identity?

Copyright © 2023 by David Witherington Stewart

Published in the United States of America

ISBN Paperback: 979-8-89091-087-5

ISBN eBook: 979-8-89091-088-2

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of ReadersMagnet, LLC.

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DEDICATION

To Annette Stewart

1926-1999

My life’s partner for thirty-seven years, whose compassion had no boundaries.

EPIGRAPH

A human being fashions his consequences as surely as he fashions his goods or his dwelling. Nothing that he says, thinks or does is without consequences.

-Norman Cousins

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Above all, I must thank my best friend Marsha Becker, who not only read every section as it came off the printer, but also put up with my moodiness and frustration during rewrite. I also have to thank my other close friend, Andrea Vest, who stimulates my brain’s right side with her creative insights.

I want to recognize the contributions of my critique group members, Margie Collins, Jeremy Frost, Holly Girard, Jerry Johnson, and Bob Wise, each of whom provided comments and corrections.

Last, but not least, thanks to my editor and friend, Lou Belcher who owns Footsteps of Palm Bay, Inc. Without her skills, I would not be able to revise my novels and prepare them for publication.

COMA

Everybody, soon or late, sits down to a banquet of consequences.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Aggie gasped. Her mouth was dry and her tongue gummed to the roof of her mouth. Her eyelids did not cooperate when she tried to open them. Finally, she made out hazy images. Light came through an aperture at the entrance to a great cave. Monsters hovered over her, grunting, and wheezing in an alien language. She tried to lift her arms to fend off one of them as it approached her, but weakness made her arms sluggish. Her awareness buzzed constantly. She turned her head and made out bars, as if she were in a cage. She saw tubing running upward toward the roof.

A bright light exploded above her. The glare blinded her, and she heard noises coming from beyond where the monsters had milled about. Something wet, perhaps a tongue, daubed her body - up her thighs and between her legs. Aggie began to recover her eyesight and she saw an ogre leaning over her face. She could vaguely make out its eyes, nose, and mouth.

Arrh. Ooh. Ake. The fiend gurgled in her ear.

Aggie turned her head and screamed - a weak shrill whine that irritated her throat.

The specter backed away and disappeared. The lights dimmed and Aggie heard voices murmuring in the distance.

Her mind was slowly clearing.

Where am I?

Something about her surroundings was familiar, but she could not come up with a name. She tried to remember her own name.

A shape came into view. It was mostly white.

I am Aggie, Aggie said slowly. I am Aggie… She hesitated. There was more but she was not sure. …Buchholtz? Aggie shook her head. That was not correct. …Upton, she said. Yes, I am Aggie Upton. I am… nothing more came to her. Aggie’s eyes focused on the black ornament around the creature’s neck. The creature was a doctor.

The doctor lowered the left sidebar on Aggie’s bed and pulled up a stool. I am Dr. Nieves, he said. You have been unconscious for six weeks. How do you feel?

Aggie did not know how to answer. In one sense, she did not feel anything at all. She tried to wiggle her toes and flex her feet. She was not sure whether they moved or not. Her nose itched a little and she wanted to scratch it. Dry, she said. Back …. scratchy.

I will have the nurse clean you up and put some lotion on your skin, said Dr. Nieves.

Scratch nose.

Dr. Nieves moved around to Aggie’s right side. He examined her nose and nasal passages. Your nose is dry from the air flow, he said. I’ll order a balm that the nurse can apply. We’ll get you started on some circulation exercises.

Aggie shuddered. Where’s my husband? she asked. What happened to my son? Why aren’t they here? Her mind jumped from self-preoccupation to panic. Are they okay? Are they alive?

The last time I saw them, said Dr. Nieves, it was right after the hurricane. They were both all right. They were going to Belle Glade to see your husband’s mother. One of our paramedics, Bonnie Parker, went with them. Perhaps she knows where they are now.

I have to talk to her. I want to see her.

"I’ll talk to her chief and have her come up and talk to you.

When? All Aggie could think about was her husband, Ladamien and her son, Simon. She wanted them there, by her side.

The nurse will let you know, said Dr. Nieves

What did you say? Aggie asked.

As soon as we hear something from emergency services, we’ll let you know when Bonnie Parker can come see you.

Oh. Aggie couldn’t concentrate any longer. She scratched her nose, then dropped her hand and closed her eyes.

Aggie awoke and lay on her back in the dark. The nasal cannula continued to supply enhanced air. A urinary catheter protruded under the bed covers. Intravenous bottles and tubes provided Aggie’s nourishment and medication. An automated blood pressure monitor came to life occasionally making a humming noise as it pressurized the cuff.

Aggie could not see all of this in the darkened room, but she knew it was there. Her mind jumped from one thought to another. After three weeks in a coma, the world she knew had scattered like dandelion seeds in a gale. She did not know where her husband and son had gone. She did not know what had happened to her, to her house, or to her life.

All Aggie could hear was the hiss of air coming through her respirator and the occasional hum of the blood pressure monitor. A brief flicker of light caught her attention and she heard a shuffling, as if someone were creeping toward her bed. After a couple of seconds, she sensed - although she could not actually see - a presence hulking over her. She started to scream but the phantom grabbed her cheeks. She felt something soft jam between her teeth and a hand held across her mouth.

Aggie bucked her body trying to get the hand to move.

Shh… The sound definitely came from a man. Aggie smelled his breath. It had heavy overtones of garlic and onion. Hi Aggie. Glad you’re awake.

Aggie didn’t recognize the voice. The gag was cutting off her oxygen and she breathed hard through her nose trying to maintain consciousness. The hand moved away from her face and she felt it press down on her abdomen. It hurt, but she couldn’t tell the man to stop. Aggie quit struggling. She was shivering with fright.

Don’ be afraid. The man’s voice was raspy and low. It had a faint Caribbean accent, perhaps Jamaican. Jes’ do what I tell you. I am a friend of your husband, a brother. He’s in prison. Turned hisself in.

Aggie felt excited that she might finally learn something about Ladamien. The shivering subsided and she listened.

Ladamien’s in the federal detention center down in Miami. He gaved hisself up to the FBI.

Aggie tried to talk through her gag. She sounded like a sick puppy.

You wanna say something? the man asked. Promise not to scream?

Uh-huh, Aggie managed through the gag.

Aggie felt the gag jerk out of her mouth. Where’s my son? Where’s Simon?

Don’ knows. He’s not with his grandmamma I know that. They’re looking for him.

Now that she had discovered that the man knew something about her husband, Aggie was eager to get more information out of him. The man withdrew his hand and Aggie breathed more easily. How did you find out that Ladamien was in jail?

Leroy told me. Leroy Greene, the boss of the Swamp Rattlers.

Aggie was familiar with Leroy. Ladamien had been a member of the Swamp Rattlers since before Aggie married him and they had visited Leroy on more than one occasion. You work for Leroy? she asked.

That don’ matter none. We have common interests.

So, you’re not a gang member?

That don’ matter none neither. What we all wants from Ladamien is silence. If he talks, they’ll kill him. Then, they’ll kill you and your son. You tell him that.

Aggie could tell from the man’s tone of voice that he wasn’t threatening her directly. Who would kill us? she asked. I’m not much of a threat. I can’t even get out of bed. Aggie was frightened at what the man said, but more than scared, she was defiant. If he were serious, she’d be dead already.

Yeah, but Ladamien loves you. You just make sure he gets the word. If he rats on the gangs, you and your son are shark bait. Mention De Satanás. He’ll know what I’m talking about.

The name De Satanás was familiar. She remembered seeing it on a sign above the path to an encampment she and Ladamien had visited. She had traveled with Ladamien on several occasions. They had been working vacations for Ladamien, but bird photography opportunities for her. On that trip, they had stayed at the Chez les Rois in Manaus, Brazil, for only two days.

After that, they had trekked through the jungle for two days until they arrived at De Satanás, where they stayed for four days. The camp, carved out of the jungle, was clean and orderly, inhabited by young men in camouflage uniforms, all carrying firearms of one sort, or another. There had been a few young women hanging out around the canteen, but no children and no apparent family structure

Ladamien had met privately with several persons while he was there and she had encountered them at a reception toward the end of the stay. She remembered seeing Leroy Green there. Knowing that Leroy was involved gave her pause. He was a big-time gangster. Murder was just business to him.

Who are you? Aggie was uneasy.

I ain’t gonna tell you that, the man said. If anyone asks, just tell them I’m Peter Pan, from Never-Never Land. The man chuckled as if he had made a joke.

More like Captain Hook, said Aggie.

Yeah, the man said. That’s good. Ceptin’ I’m a friend.

What’s Ladamien in prison for? Aggie asked.

Right now? Jes’ suspicion. We all aims to keep it that way. The feds don’t need to know what he was doing’, nor us neither.

Oh. Aggie got the idea. Leroy, and probably some others, didn’t want Ladamien talking about the human trafficking, money laundering, weapons trading, and drug activities that the Swamp Rattlers engaged in. I get the picture.

Leroy figured you would. He said you might know too much yourself.

I’ve got enough to worry about with just getting well. I don’t even understand what happened to me. About the coma, I mean. Also, I have to get my son back. Aggie thought about the things that Ladamien had confided to her. My memory is pretty foggy. Anything I could testify about is strictly hearsay. I never did or saw anything.

Keep thinking’ that way. When you talk to Ladamien, tell him a little selective memory will keep all of you alive.

I’ll tell him, Aggie said. Why don’t you leave? I’m tired of talking.

Fine, said the man.

Aggie heard the man shuffle across the room in the dark. She saw the flash of light as the door to the room opened and closed. Shortly after the man left, a nurse came into the room and turned on a dim light near the door.

Was there a man in your room just now? the nurse asked. Should I call security?

No, don’t call them, said Aggie. It was just a friend stopping by to check on me.

Well, next time tell him visiting hours are from eight to ten.

He’s from out of town. I don’t think he’ll be back. Aggie relaxed. At least she had found out where Ladamien was. If only she knew about Simon. She needed to talk to Bonnie Parker and find out about her son, her house and what had happened to them. She needed to find out more about the disease that had put her in a coma.

# # #

Aggie had no idea what time it was when Dr. Nieves came into her room with the nurse. She had slept intermittently since regaining consciousness. Each time she dozed off, the same psychedelic dreams recurred. She remembered that they moved her at least once during that period.

The nurse elevated Aggie’s bed so she sat at an forty-five-degree angle.

Dr. Nieves asked Aggie to follow his finger with her eyes. He put the stethoscope to her back and chest. At times during the examination, Aggie became lightheaded.

Do you feel well enough to talk? asked Dr. Nieves.

Aggie nodded. Finally, she mumbled, Yes.

You are recovering nicely considering the disease and the hurricane. It is fortunate that a paramedic team was able to get to you and stay with you through the storm. One of the paramedics, Bonnie Parker is coming up to see you at one o’clock. She’ll be able to answer some of your questions.

Aggie closed her eyes and shook her head. What happened to me?

You caught a Hantavirus, a life-threatening disease. We suspect you picked up the infection in Jamaica. Rat droppings spread it. Do you remember going there?

Aggie stared at the wall - at the seam where it joined the ceiling. She remembered the jungle, trekking around looking for rare birds. Yes, I photographed a Blue Mountain Vireo. I do remember. Aggie looked around the room. Where am I now?

Dr. Nieves’ voice was low and steady. You are in the hospital in Coreopsis, Florida. Do you know where that is?

Aggie looked intently at the foot of the bed. She concentrated, trying to picture where Coreopsis was in her mind. She summoned an image, a park near a lake. I’m not sure, she said. Kind of, I guess. It’s on the west side of the lagoon. Across the river from where I live.

That’s correct, said Dr. Nieves. Anyhow, before this great storm came through you lost consciousness. The doctor pointed to a sheaf of papers on his clipboard. It’s all here in the emergency medical team’s report. They found you unconscious with a high fever. They took some emergency steps to give you oxygen.

Aggie looked at the document as if it held the secret to her life. What else does it say? Through her stupor, she was beginning to understand that details from the medical team could be important.

The paramedics saved your life. They made sure that your brain survived. However, some damage had already occurred.

I have brain damage?

Some. It could have been worse. It is why you have trouble remembering and concentrating.

Is that why I’m dizzy sometimes?

Yes. It will be a while before you are fully yourself again.

Oh. Aggie could not think of any reply to this news.

She gathered that Dr. Nieves was not done. When will I be able to get out of bed? she inquired.

Maybe tomorrow, Dr. Nieves answered. I will remove the Foley catheter before I leave. You will still need assistance, but you should be able to get up and use the toilet.

Aggie smiled. She felt that this indicated true progress. When can I leave the hospital?

As soon as I am satisfied that your condition is stabilized, I will have you transferred to post-acute rehabilitation. We have an excellent unit here.

How long will you keep me there?

It is too early to tell. If everything goes well, perhaps two weeks, and then we will elevate you to independent living. I understand your parents are coming over from Bradenton. You can talk to them about it.

The mention of her parents triggered another thought for Aggie. My parents? she questioned. They’re coming? Her parents had rarely visited during the past ten years.

Dr. Nieves meshed his fingers. Yes. Don’t you want to see them?

Yes, I do. Is there anyone else?

Dr. Nieves shrugged. Your husband and son were here after the hurricane, but I don’t know where they are now. Bonnie Parker should know. Maybe your parents will know even more.

Aggie’s lip began to quiver. Her husband? Her son? She was troubled. Someone told me my husband is in prison. I need to call him and make sure he is all right. He’ll know where our son is.

Who told you that?

A friend. He was here last night. He said that Ladamien is in the Miami detention center. He didn’t know where Simon might be. I need to call Ladamien. I want to know where he left Simon. Anxiety destroyed Aggie’s ability to concentrate. She felt wobbly inside. I need to lie back.

The nurse lowered Aggie’s bed so that she lay flat. Visions of her husband and son swirled through Aggie’s thoughts. She could almost remember what her life was like. It seemed remote. She feared she was making it up. What was real and what was make-believe? Aggie was not sure. She caught a glimpse of a technician hanging another bag on her IV rack. Soon, the kaleidoscopic visions returned and Aggie’s thoughts wandered.

When Dr. Nieves mentioned Aggie’s parents, it had produced the first candid images she had of herself and her past life. How long had she been in the coma? Aggie could not place an exact date on her recollections. She knew that it had been some time ago. What came back to her were the emotional outbursts between herself and her mother.

Aggie recalled standing in the large living room of her parents’ home in Bradenton, Florida. Her mother, Cynthia, was holding on to the bannister of a spiral staircase that went upstairs to the bedrooms and her mother’s quilting room. Her father, Edward, sat stiff-backed on an opulent sofa positioned between Aggie and her mother. The expression on his face told Aggie that he did not want to get involved in the argument. Aggie noticed her suitcase sitting in the foyer. Cynthia was wagging her finger at Aggie and yelling in that wicked polite way that southern-raised women can achieve.

Look at yourself, Cynthia said. You used to be a princess. Now you are a slut. My daughter is a cheap harlot and pregnant to boot. Go ahead. Leave. See if I care.

That’s what I’m doing, Mother. I’m going to marry Ladamien and raise our baby.

Cynthia exploded from the staircase and lurched toward Aggie. A criminal. A black man. An uneducated, no-good. And he’s spoiled my grandbaby. She stopped about four feet from Aggie and swept her arms in a grand circle around her daughter. You are still beautiful. You could have a doctor, a lawyer, a college professor. They would be pleased as punch to have you.

Ladamien loves me and I love him. I don’t want to be a possession. I want to be a wife and a mother.

He will end up dead or in jail. They all do those gangsters. Cynthia moved away from Aggie and sat next to her husband. She put her face in her right hand. You will end up a widow, with a black child. What use will you be to anyone then?

Aggie remembered seeing the tears smearing her mother’s makeup. Her father had said nothing and Aggie had picked up her luggage and left.

Aggie rang for the nurse. The doctor had removed the catheter while she was unconscious and she needed help using the bedpan. While she waited, she considered her dream. Was her mother still angry with her? Probably. Still, she knew that her parents had accepted Simon, in spite of his color, and that they loved her regardless of how she lived her life. The nurse came into her room. A solidly built woman in a uniform accompanied her.

I need to pee, Aggie said.

Should I wait outside? the woman asked the nurse.

No, the nurse said to the woman. You can talk while I help Aggie.

The nurse slid through the curtain and disappeared. Up until now, Aggie had not noticed that the room had changed. The enclosed cubicle in which she had first awakened was gone. This room was larger. A television hung on an arm that swung over her bed.

Hello, Aggie, the woman said. I’m Bonnie Parker. I was with you during the hurricane, the whole time you were sick.

You’re a paramedic, a medical technician?

Yeah, said Bonnie. We had to put a tube down your windpipe so you could breath. You look much better now.

Oh, said Aggie. Did you have to cut my throat?

Yep. Right there. Bonnie pointed with her finger to the top of Aggie’s neck.

Did you talk with my husband? And my son?

Oh yeah, we talked a bunch. We had a lot to talk about. My natural father, my sire, Bonnie said this with sarcasm in her voice, was Cody Wilkins, head of the Swamp Rattlers when Ladamien joined.

Really. Aggie let that soak in while the nurse adjusted her bed. That’s an amazing coincidence.

My mother was young and foolish, like Ladamien, said Bonnie. It cost her life. Fortunately, Ladamien is getting out alive.

Did you know he’s in prison?

I was with him down in Belle Glade when he turned himself in. His mother and I convinced him to do that.

Why?

Leroy Greene was asking him to do things he didn’t want to do. His conscience was bothering him.

What about our son? Is he in Belle Glade with his grandmamma?

Last I knew, said Bonnie, he was up in South Carolina with his aunt.

Corrine. Aggie thought of Ladamien’s sister. Corrine was one of those over educated arrogant women who thought that Ladamien was black trash prime -a disgrace to her family and to his entire race. She’ll fill Simon’s head with all kinds of nonsense.

Ladamien thought Simon would be safer up there. He did say that his sister is a disciplinarian. ‘A constipated mind’, he called it. Bonnie looked puzzled. How did you find out that Ladamien’s in prison?

Aggie waited until the nurse left again and then she beckoned Bonnie to come closer. She felt that she could trust Bonnie not to overreact. Last night, it was dark and I couldn’t see, but a man came into my room and told me. He said that if Ladamien blabbed, someone from the gangs would kill him in prison, and me and Simon as well.

Who else have you told about this?

No one. I need to talk to Ladamien. I need to make sure that Simon is safe.

You can’t ignore that threat. It won’t just go away. I’m sure the man meant it.

I feel so helpless, just lying’ here in this bed. I haven’t even had a chance to walk yet.

I can help, said Bonnie. I have to tell someone about that man and the threats. You need to talk to Ladamien and Simon. I have a friend in the FBI, up in D.C. He’s an inspector now, but he used to be in Atlanta. He knows about Ladamien and Leroy Greene. I’ll tell him about the threats and I’ll talk to Dr. Nieves about allowing you to make those phone calls.

Aggie felt relieved. At last, something positive was happening. Thank you. I’ll have to talk to Ladamien first and get Corrine’s number.

Don’t worry about it, said Bonnie. You should hear something shortly.

Please turn off the light, Aggie said to Bonnie as Bonnie left the room. Aggie lowered the bed and lay quietly on her back with her eyes open. The light coming through the half-open door made shadows of strange shapes on the ceiling. She remembered as a child making images out of the clouds. Above the window was a porpoise. Near the door was a monkey in a palm tree. Aggie’s eyes closed and sleep returned.

FAMILY

I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.

Helen Keller

Aggie awoke to find her parents sitting in her room. She raised the head of the bed and rubbed her eyes. Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.

We didn’t want to disturb you, said Cynthia. You looked so peaceful.

Yeah, said Aggie. I’ve been getting a lot of practice. You should have waked me up. I wanted to see you.

We’ve come over several times, said Edward, but you’ve always been out of it. You didn’t even move.

So they tell me. Look, do you have Corrine’s number? I need to talk to Simon.

He’s fine, said Cynthia. "I’ve called Corrine every week and talked to Simon four times. He’ll be thrilled to find out you’re conscious.’

Aggie nodded. Yeah, I need to hear his voice. She watched her mother scribble some information on a piece of scrap paper.

Here, said Cynthia, coming over to Aggie’s bedstead. I’ll put this where you can find it. She opened the drawer of the side table and slipped the note inside.

Did you know that Ladamien’s in prison? Aggie asked. Have you talked to him?

Edward cleared his throat as if getting ready for a speech. "Ladamien called me, about five weeks ago, after he turned himself in. Said he needed me to get some money, send it to a lawyer down in Miami. Told me;