“All right, Mrs. Taylor. Have a seat over there, and I’ll see if I can find Dr. Schoenfeld.”
“I have to see Mark now!”
“I’ll go get Dr. Schoenfeld, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Mrs. Taylor, your husband was stabbed. He came through surgery just fine, and he’s in the recovery room at the moment. We couldn’t wait for permission to operate, but there are some forms we need—”
“I don’t care about forms. I have to see Mark!”
“As I said, Mrs. Taylor, he’s in the recovery room. He should be there for a few more hours. After he wakes up, we’ll take him to a room, and you can stay with him.”
“But I have to see him!” Why couldn’t this doctor understand? Why couldn’t anyone understand? She had to see Mark now. To make sure he was OK.
He looked so weak, so fragile. Lying there with tubes stuck in his arms, and wires attached to his chest. Her cheeks felt wet, and her vision blurred. Why wouldn’t he wake up?
She was so tired, sitting here holding his hand. So tired, but so wired. She couldn’t even think about sleeping. She had to watch Mark, make sure he was going to be OK.
Why wouldn’t he wake up? The doctor said he’d be asleep for a while, but he didn’t say how long a while.
She glanced at her watch, then out the window. It was getting light. Have to call Judy soon, she thought, and have her help the kids get to school. Explain to them on the phone.
“Why me? Why him? Why us?” she sobbed softly.
His eyes were fluttering. Maybe he was waking up. “Mark? Mark? It’s me. Mark, wake up!” His eyes stayed closed.
“Mark, can you hear me?”
Finally, his eyes opened, and seemed to focus on her.
His lips moved, and he seemed to be saying “Ginny.”
The fist that had been squeezing her chest since Dr. Schoenfeld called finally released its grip.
“I’m here, honey. I’m here. I was so worried.” How dare you let yourself get hurt like that! she wanted to scream.
“Ginny, I’m very tired.” His eyes started to close again.
“Of course you are, darling. You rest. I’ll stay right here. I won’t let anybody hurt you again. I’ll be here, you rest.”
He was already asleep.
“Judy? It’s Ginny. Mark’s going to be OK. He was stabbed. I’m with him now. I’m calling from the phone in his room. He woke up a few minutes ago, and recognized me, and then went back to sleep. Look, I have to stay with him. Can you get the kids to school? Thanks. Tell them something?”
The doctor walked into the room, followed by a small man in a brown suit. The small man was holding a notebook and a pen.
“Mr. Taylor? I’m Dr. Schoenfeld. I’m the one who operated on you last night. This is Detective Morrow.”
“What am I doing here?” Mark’s voice was weak, but recognizable.
“Do you remember anything about last night?” Morrow asked.
What are you doing here asking questions? Ginny wanted to yell at him. Go find the bastard who did this!
He turned his head, and saw Ginny holding his hand.
He looked so small and weak. What happened to the big, strong man who went to work yesterday morning?
“I was working late in the office. I was walking to the subway, and glad it had stopped raining, because I’d forgotten my umb….”
“And then what?”
What were they talking about? Mark was lying here with a hole in his back, and this detective wanted to know about his walk to the subway?
“Then, then… I… felt this incredible pain in my back. It was like I was burning up, and then freezing, and I fell down.”
“Yes?”
“And a… a man… with a bandanna on his face… holding a knife, he took my wallet.”
“Do you think you’d recognize this man, Mr. Taylor?”
“I… I don’t know. It was dark, and I wasn’t thinking too clearly, and… could I have a drink of water, please?”
“Of course, Mr. Taylor. Detective, please don’t tire him out. Mr. Taylor’s going to be with us for a few days, yet.”
“Doctor, we’re holding a man right now. We think he’s the man who attacked Mr. Taylor. But if we can’t officially charge him with anything, we’ll have to release him soon. If Mr. Taylor could swear a complaint, we’d have sufficient grounds to hold him.”
“All right, Detective. What do you need me to say?”
He’d been lying there, shivering, and not getting any stronger. Maybe showing him the kids will help, she thought, and went to the waiting room.
“Come on, kids, we’re going to go see Daddy. Now, remember what I said: he’s been hurt, and he’s not feeling very good, so he looks kind of sick, and he’s very weak.” Maggie’s eyes were huge, and Mark Junior looked angry. “He’s going to be OK, but he’s going to be in the hospital for a while.”
She knew that if she said it enough, believed it enough, it would happen. It had to happen. Mark would get better!
Mark was shivering, but he smiled when they walked in. He would get better; she knew it.
“Daddy, Daddy,” Maggie cried, as she saw him lying there. “You have to get up. You have to get better. You promised!”
“Now, Maggie, remember what I told you,” Ginny admonished. “He will get better, but he has to rest for a while.”
Mark Junior was more reserved.
“Ginny,” Mark mumbled. His eyes didn’t open.
“I’m here, honey,” she replied, patting his hand. It felt cold and weak.
“I’m so tired, babe.” She struggled to hear him.
“Then sleep, Mark, sleep. It’s OK, I’ll be right here.” And I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you!
“OK,” he said, and faded into unconsciousness.
An hour later, he stopped breathing. Ginny wasn’t sure at first, but then an alarm went off, and a nurse came running.
Ginny looked at her face, and screamed in pain.
“Come on Mark, you have to wake up.”
It was dark as Mom shook his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes and looked at her.
“Why, Mom? Is it time to go to school already?”
“No. Daddy was hurt. I have to go to the hospital to be with him. You and Maggie are going to stay with Sam and Joanne. Come on, you don’t have to get dressed. Just put on your sneakers, and put your coat on over your pajamas.”
“You see, the perpetrator is going to live, through our Live-It system, the lives of each of his victims. He’ll experience all the feelings of every person who suffered for his crime.”
“And when he’s finished?”
“When he’s gone through each of them—in this case, that means Mark, the victim, his wife, his two children, both his parents and his in-laws, and his business partner—then we run him through a simulation where he is himself with the same opportunity he had when he committed the crime. If he commits it again, we run him through the whole cycle again.
“And he keeps living through all their lives until there is some change in him.”
“And if there is no change?”
“Then this will amount to a life-imprisonment. Life as a victim of a stabbing and robbery, over and over again.”
“And do you think he’ll be here for life?”
“Oh, no. Most of the young criminals that we’ve tested the system on, early in their careers, are usually turned from a life of crime after two or three repetitions.”