The Protege: Part I Read online

  *****

  Charlie was excited when Thursday finally came. For one reason, it was his day off from work and for another, he would be spending it playing pool while being personally coached by Big Milwaukee himself.

  A dream come true.

  He felt lucky. It was something like winning a lottery; being struck by lightning and surviving it without any pain; as if he'd just grown several inches higher.

  As Charlie bolted back into ‘Randys Bar’, the day was still young (1:00) and with a bit of dichotomy, he went over to the bar, sat upon a stool near the left edge and then ordered a drink (only a soda pop) from Pete.

  When the bartender soon returned with the ordered drink he stopped for conversation.

  “Whats up with you? You hardly ever look lively.”

  Charlie frowned, but then soon his face smeared again with pleasure.

  “Ahhh, I’m just excited about today. In a few minutes, I’m going to play my first match of pool; and, with Big Milwaukee coaching.”

  This time, Pete's face frowned.

  “I guess you haven’t heard then?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Big Milwaukee was in here earlier. He had a heart attack, or uh, something. He keeled over, right by the pool table. Looked bad. They took him to the hospital.”

  Charlie’s eyes gawked in response, incredulously. Big Milwaukee? Hospital? Dead or Alive? The concern was apparent on Charlie's face.

  “You want to call the hospital to see what’s happening?” asked Pete, probably more likely just so that he’d have an excuse to leave the bar and also to get on the telephone.

  “No,” said Charlie, anyways. “I’m heading over there myself.”

  Charlie eased sadly away from the stool.

  “Send my regards,” he heard the voice say behind him.

  Just like that, his dreams had been torn apart from the hem. With his head sloped down and away, Charlie walked out of the bar into the cool Wisconsin air. Even in the City, he still seemed vicariously close to the pastoral surroundings, and the smell of pine meandered around his nose. Winter, still far off, but no matter how far off, seemed to be close by-perhaps, only a day or two away.

  Within minutes, Charlie had made it over to his car and then had gotten inside. He quickly started up the engine, zigzagged from out of the curb unto the street and then made a meticulous-but yet illegal-U turn. He knew the drive well which would take him to the local hospital yet notwithstanding it seemed an arduous journey.

  Once there however, Charlie quickly parked in a rear lot, and then was out and walking toward the hospital entrance. At an information desk in the lobby, he was able to ask upon Big Milwaukee-doing so, by his real name (possibly the only reason he was forwarded) and then next was told the floor and room number to where he’d supposedly been taken to rest.

  Charlie gladly thanked the helpful person behind the desk and then gaited hurriedly down a long, sparse hallway. The ground floor was dreadfully quiet, much more quiet than a library or a school and almost as quiet as a graveyard.

  Charlie walked most of its length before veering left toward a pair of elevators. He waited a moment before the elevator doors opened and then entered. He selected a floor number, watched the doors swoosh shut and then waited as the lofted structure ascended.

  After quietly surpassing several floors, the elevator stopped to the ring of a bell and it's doors sprung open.

  Charlie ventured out unto a peach tiled floor of a pale, tranquil, illuminescent hallway. After stepping unto it, he veered right and up a narrow walkway cluttered with gurney, wheelchairs, surgical equipment, crutches and fold-up chairs. The sight resembled one of furtive calm and potential melee.

  As Charlie passed some of the side rooms, he noticed that most of them were dark and contained big beds occupied by suffering patients. Some were smiling, some grimacing and others-the truly sick-only ogled on in pain.

  A few doctors scurried back and forth, now stoic of their surroundings and especially of Charlie-only a minutia vision in their roundabout day. However, as one passed near him, he was able to ask specific directions for the room in which-apparently-Big Milwaukee rested.

  “Three more rooms down,” the doctor said while pointing, before turning away and continuing onward.

  Charlie curtailed a thank-you, recognizing that the doctor was in high gear and then ventured on down the hallway.

  Three doorways down, he ventured left into a dark room and which held one bed. On it, a large figure laid strewn under crooked bed sheets.

  As Charlie got closer, he was able to recognize-as pale as it had become; even more pale then the bed sheets-Big Milwaukee's face. The expression on it was still, almost like that of a snowman's. A cold chill reverberated up Charlie's spine. He had a bad inclination, one which he ponderously shook off.

  Why was the room so dark?

  Why were the sheets frayed and wrinkled in such disarray?

  Charlie ventured over to the right edge of the bed and opted whether to touch the lifeless head. The eyes had been closed, but still though, the face did not look as if it was sleeping. Slowly, Charlie's hand began to raise. Likewise, his fingers begin to tremble, like a snake tail, as they became ever close to the head. But then, the tip-tap sound of a brogue shoe entering the room caused Charlie to snap his hand back. He turned left to see that a tall doctor had suspiciously entered the room, considered turning on the light but then thought better not to.

  “How are you?” he then asked amicably enough.

  “My name is Charlie Grifter. I'm a friend of Big—uh, Ray Stuart. I was supposed to meet him down at the bar, is he alright?”

  Slowly, the doctor shook his head.

  “No. I'm terribly afraid that Mr. Stuart has passed away.”

  The words dropped on Charlie like steel. Passed. Dead. Gone.

  Almost incredulously, he turned to view the body below him. Its paleness had been warranted.

  Charlie turned away and then stared at the shadowy figure of the doctor.

  “Ok doc,” he then said. “Alright. I'll be on my way.” He walked over towards the doorway and passed the doctor, who had stepped further into the dark shade where it was safe. Strangely, Charlie wasn't sad or upset, but for some reason, he felt defeated.

  ###

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