Razing Ryan
The smell of burning oil and the shouts of emergency workers filled the air. Mary Gagliardi stared at the gurney near the rear of the ambulance. It held a body, but the body's identity was hidden beneath a blanket. Mary ignored the flames rising from her overturned car and the firefighters struggling to rein in the blaze. She ignored the stabbing, intense pain in her abdomen. Her world shrank to nothing but herself and the body under the blanket as she approached the gurney.
The length of Mary's stride shortened with each step she took towards the ambulance, until she was walking at no more than a slow shuffle. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mary reached the gurney. She tentatively stretched out her hand, her eyes wide with fear and apprehension as she reached for the edge of the blanket with twitching fingers. She wiped away her tears with her other hand, smearing soot and blood across her face in the process. Swallowing the large, hard lump in her throat, Mary gripped the edge of the blanket and threw it back, just as a high-pitched scream woke her from her sleep.
Mary sat bolt upright in bed, her hearing heightened in the darkness. All she heard was her own ragged breath and her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't know if the scream had been real, or part of her nightmare. She turned on her bedside lamp and looked at her husband. Luca was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling gently, with no hint of night terrors on his handsome features, no sign that he’d been disturbed by a scream. Even though she admired his ability to recover and move on from the tragedy that had marred their family, she also resented it. She found herself fingering the scar that ran across her abdomen, the only injury she’d received in the car accident a year ago that had claimed the life of their oldest son - Ryan.
The familiar sounds of the house enveloped Mary, as her racing pulse eased and her breathing calmed down. The ambience of the house felt like the hug of an old friend, comforting and eternal, with all the usual night noises soothing her mind. She could hear the soft gentle snore of the baby, Danielle, coming from her cot in the corner of the room. Danielle’s snoring merged with the gentle creaking of the old house, the low hum of the central heating, and the constant buzz of traffic from the distant freeway, to create a familiar symphony that Mary found quite reassuring. She smiled a weak, wan smile at her own silliness and started to burrow back down under the covers, willing sleep to claim her again, when another blood-chilling shriek cascaded through the house. It came from Colton’s room, her youngest son. Mary threw back her covers and fled to his room.
“It’s OK Baby, I’m here,” she said softly as she rushed to his bed and wrapped her arms around him. He sobbed into her breast and whimpered slightly. The green nightlight, a habit he’d fallen into since the accident, filled Colton’s room with an alien glow. He tried to speak after his sniffles settled down, but his voice came out muffled.
“What, Baby Boy?” Mary asked him, releasing him from her grip.
“It was Ryan under that blanket, wasn’t it?” Colton spoke softly and his gaze was intense. She gasped, certain he’d experienced the same nightmare as her. She could almost smell the petrol spill in the air and hear the approaching sirens. She pulled him back into her embrace and rocked him back and forth, only laying him down once he’d drifted off to sleep.
“His dreams are becoming more frequent and intense, not less,” Luca observed. Mary stood and turned to her husband. He was leaning in the doorframe, shirtless, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Although they hadn’t made love since the accident and emergency caesarian section, the sight of his hairy chest still filled her with desire. She moved into him, craving his warmth and support, wanting to feel his arms around her.
“Do you think it’s time for him to see a professional?” Mary asked Luca, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow as he led her back to bed.
“I…” Luca started to respond, but he was interrupted by the hungry wail of baby Danielle. Danielle was technically one year old; however, she had a corrected age of nine months due to being prematurely dragged into the world, completely against her will, on the night of that fateful accident. She had been born three months premature and medical staff feared she wouldn't survive the night, but Danielle was made of tough stuff.
“Go back to sleep,” Mary told Luca, smiling at the sleepy, dopey expression on his face. “I’ll feed Danni. We can talk about Colton tomorrow.”
Luca nodded, kissed Mary briefly on the forehead, and lay down in bed. He was asleep before Mary had even settled in her chair to feed the baby. The memory of Colton’s harrowing scream disturbed her, and some panicked part of her brain opened itself to her fears and anxieties. The familiar, comforting noises of the house became vaguely threatening. The creaking of the old timbers became regular thuds, turning into footsteps. The buzz of the distant traffic grew into some unseen approaching apocalypse. Mary fought to suppress her fears, forcing herself to breathe calmly and regularly. Soon the familiarity of breastfeeding Danielle soothed her fears, almost as though the babe were sucking out Mary's disquiet along with her mother’s milk.