It’s gonna be just fine… Right
Your gonna come back for me…
Please don’t leave me here!
I love you and I’ll try my hardest to be better!
Don’t leave!
***
“Wally! Wally! Wake up, you’re day dreaming again!” the band director yelled pouring a lot of water on the young janitor to bring him back to reality.
“Hm? Oh! I’m s-sorry Norman. Was I mind wandering again?”
“Yes, Yes you were.”
It had only been seventeen years since Wally had been abandoned by the only two people he could truly look up to and mimic, his mother and father. After 5 years of torturing and abusing their own creation, they had left him alone… helpless. He had almost caught pneumonia until a woman had picked up the cold dying five year old.
She had taken him in and next thing he knew, he was wrapped up in almost 5 blankets. The woman who had taken him in worked as a teacher and decided he can be a former student. She had trouble thinking how a kid with an undiscovered mental condition like him would fit in a normal class room since they didn’t have special education until 1975. She had managed to convince the other kids otherwise of this “special” condition and he fit in with the normal kids. Everyone liked him! Well, not everyone. Frankie Blooregard.
He was the only 9th grader in this 1st grade class room. He was “special” with down syndrome which hadn’t been discovered in their century. You wouldn’t imagine a stronger, taller fourteen year old to be picking on some weak, short 5 year old. Frankie was bipolar and would tend to mess around with the younger kids. He was so sick, he had almost killed a pre-schooler over that the small 3 year old was a ginger. Wally was scared of this young man and to make it worse. He had become Frankie’s main victim.
Wally’s life was a pain until this “new kid” came along. Like Frankie, he was a bit older and he was a former twenty-one collage student staying at the school as the teacher’s assistant. Everyday, Wally would greet this young man with a smile and to surprise, he’d be greeted back with the same. This man, Norman, was as you would call, a ray of hope… at least that’s what Wally used to call him all the time.
“Walls! G******n it Walls, stop day dreaming about your past and let’s go!” Wally looked back at Norman who had his stuff packed in a small black suitcase. Wally had forgotten that him and Norman were going on a trip to see Norm’s family.
“Oh! Yeah!” Wally said as he ran to his closet to get his bag. He was ready. A bit scared and shy, but still determined. Wally got in the very back of the red pickup truck and held on tight as they were making their way to Colombia in South America. It had almost been 19 hours including the stops at the gas stations and food market Wally was about to fall asleep as it had been all day and night during the drive.
Norman was sleepy too but he had to keep his eyes open. He then saw a black figure in the road. He couldn’t make out what it was but it seemed like a car. Norman had closed his eyes for 3 seconds then, BAM! The pickup truck had slammed into the car. Norman was crushed and sandwiched between a dented front of the car and the back of the seat.
Wally, however, didn’t suffer as much as Norman. He had fallen out the truck and only cut his arm on the edges. The cut was only a foot long reaching from his elbow to the back of his hand which ended below his middle finger. The blood went out pretty fast and too much. His ankle also got caught in the back door and became dislocated during the fall from a 5 foot distance. No one could explain which was worse. Having your ribs cut in a car, or having a foot long cut on your arm that was 2.54 centimeters (an inch) deep and a centimeter wide with a dislocated ankle.
Since Wally was able to walk a little bit, he ran up to the driver in the car ahead them. He checked his breathing. Then he checked his pulse. Nothing. It’s official. This man is dead. He than ran up to Norman who wasn’t bleeding what so ever but his ribs were crushed so you can imagine the agony he was in. Wireless phones weren’t invented during the 1920s so Wally couldn’t call 911. Wally just sat there to comfort his best friend.
Suddenly, everything went quiet. The only thing heard was the fast heartbeats of the two best friends who desperately needed help. No cars were coming. Wally couldn’t wait. Norman needed help before he would become maggot food.
“Don’t worry Norms, I’m gonna run down and get help!” Wally started to run down the street to the nearest hospital to get his friend some help. But how would he find his way back? Wally grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. He marked where the truck was and drew the pen against the paper as he weakly ran down the road.
The hospital wasn’t for the next 3 miles. Wally then fell on the floor as he couldn’t walk and his foot started to become numb. No. he couldn’t stop here, He had to go further. Wally got up, trying his best to ignore the pain and kept on running. But it didn’t help. Wally was only a mile away. He could feel it. He knew his injuries wouldn’t get him to there… and they didn’t.
Wally fell back down and the bleeding from his arm was getting worse. Everything was starting to fade. Wally was starting to black out. He tried to get back up but he couldn’t. He passed out before he got the chance. An hour later. Wally had woken back up. His foot still a bit in pain and a scab had formed over the cut. Wally knew he wouldn’t be able to make it to the hospital and back. He started to run back to his friend Norman.
Cars began appearing everywhere making it hard to run two miles back to where the whole thing happened. Wally began to weaken as he hasn’t eaten anything for the past 6 hours and he was hungry. There was nothing to eat. Only a mile and a half left to go. Wally started to run out of breath. He was willing to make this one sacrifice for his friend. He couldn’t He fell over and began to cry. He knew his body in this condition couldn’t take this much pressure. He could hear… sirens? No ambulance, fire truck, or police car was around. Wally began loosing his vision again. It is a dream. He was still bleeding and his ankle was still dislocated. He was still passed out. An ambulance came his way after a pedestrian had reported him to the hospital.
The driver saw the “map” in the young man’s hands and the paramedic picked it up. There were lines and an X. Next to the X said, “Go back to save”.
The paramedic loaded the injured 22 year old man into the back as the driver began to drive to the location. Norman’s breath was running short and so was his pulse. This is it. His 43 years of life were good. His time has come. He was about to leave everything behind. He heard the sirens and could feel the car being dented out by one of the paramedics. Another paramedic had grabbed Norman and carried him in the back with his best friend. Back in Wally’s dream, Wally had woken up and got back to his feet to save his friend. He was only half a mile there. He could see the truck. No one was inside.
“N-Norman…” Wally’s eyes began to tear up. He was gone. His best friend was gone. He began to hear… beeping noises and… someone breathing from an oxygen tank. Wally was fading away. In reality, Wally was beginning to wake up. There was a nurse sitting by the door waiting for the man to wake up. Wally looked next to him and saw his best friend… in bad condition.
His heart rate was 6 BPM and he had an oxygen mask over his face to make sure he had enough oxygen. Wally wasn’t in too bad of a condition. His heart and oxygen rate was normal. He had stitches keeping the cut closed which was wrapped with gauze to keep it secure and his foot was immovable as it was wrapped with gauze and red fiberglass.
“Oh your awake!” the nurse had looked up at Wally.
“I have some n-news…” Wally had listened in to the nurse. He was happy but sad in a kind of way. Wally could go back home and rest in his own bed, but Norman had to stay here and recover. Wally grabbed the crutches so he could walk back to his house. He looked down on the side walk the whole way.
“Poptart! I’m home!” He yelled at the orange and brown cat. He lay down on the couch. Poptart had bit on a bag of mini donuts and started dragging them to her owner.
“Oh! Thank you Poptart!” Wally said as he began to eat the mini doughnuts. 3 weeks of laying down, eating bread and doughnuts everyday.
Every morning Wally wondered, “Will he return today?”
A knock was heard on the door.
“Coming!” Wally grabbed the crutches and walked to the door. He opened up the door and no one was there. He was confused and puzzled. The suddenly, someone jumped on him. It was his best friend, Norman! Norman playfully pinned Wally on the ground as Wally was smiling in happiness. Norman was back! Wally, was happy! He thought this was a face he’d never see again.
