Nothing Special (Nothing Special 1)

“Fuck!” Day yelled. He eventually stopped straining and slowly lowered God’s upper body back to the cold bathroom floor.

Day stood and stepped into the narrow hallway, wincing at the pull in his back. Day watched God’s eyes narrow before fully closing. God’s chest rose and fell and to Day's relief his partner was breathing evenly.

What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t move him by myself. Day’s eyes widened. Oh. His neighbors. Those were some big motherfuckers.

Day made determined strides through the hallway but jerked to a stop when he got to the front door. He thought about what the pot-smoking thug had said to him before he came in. “No one’s going to go in there… because he’s God.”

“But if God is weak and unable to protect himself they won’t be afraid anymore,” Day whispered to himself.

Fuck. I can’t show those punks how weak God is right now.

Day repeatedly ran his hands through his hair. What now, what now. He looked at his cell phone again and was thinking about trying to put some of God’s symptoms into the Google search engine to see what it said when he got an even better idea. Yes, why the hell didn’t I think of that before?

Day punched in the numbers he knew by heart, all while keeping an eye on God.

“Good afternoon, Waldon, Schmidt, and Day, how may I help you?” the bubbly receptionist said in greeting.

“Yes, I need to speak with Dr. Day immediately please, this is a life or death emergency,” Day said back to her.

“Sir, you need to hang up and call 911,” she said back quickly.

“No I don’t. Please go get Dr. Day right now. He’ll take the call trust me. Tell him his brother is on the phone.”

“Hold one moment.”

Day waited impatiently while an annoying woman crooned in his ear about rolling in the deep. After almost an entire damn song, the line was connected.

“Leonidis, what’s going on, have you been hurt?” His brother’s easy voice soaked into his soul and he felt better already.

“No, Jax, I’m fine… but my partner isn’t.” Day took a deep breath and told his brother everything that God had told him about the insurance, the lack of a medical response team in this neighborhood, and all of God’s outward symptoms.

“It sounds like pneumonia, Leo. Try to keep him cool. If he’s as hot as you say, you need to try to get that temperature down. Get some ice trays and dump them into a towel and rub him down with it, mainly his chest and neck. Are you sure you can’t get him into the tub, because an ice bath would be more effective.”

“Fuck no. He’s almost three hundred pounds, man. I’m quick, not strong.” Day huffed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in a half hour. I’ll bring my two assistants, they’re pretty big guys. We should be able to move him,” Jax assured him and Day finally was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Leo. I’m concerned about his temperature. Are you sure you can’t get an ambulance out there?” Jax asked again.

“No. I already said that.” Day huffed. “Besides, he said he’d refuse it anyway and I told you why, so just make sure you don’t mention that. I'll chew his ass out about the insurance when I’m sure he’s not fucking dying.”

“All right, be there soon, bro.”

“Oh, shit. Hold on. Are y’all going to come with doctor’s coats and bags of medical supplies?” Day stopped pacing.

“A white coat is not necessary, but I will have to bring supplies, Leo. Why?”

“No, you can’t. If these hooligans out here see three doctors coming into God’s apartment with medical supplies they’ll know he’s sick,” Day said.

“I can’t very well treat him without supplies, Leonidis. You’re being unreasonable,” his brother said, exasperated. “His neighbors should just mind their own business… or better yet ask how they can help.”

Day barked a humorless laugh at his brother’s ignorance. “This isn’t fuckin’ Mayberry, Jax. It’s the jungle. Look, just tell your assistant to grab a few suitcases from over at the consignment shop next door to your office and then pack all your supplies in there. I’ll take care of the rest.” Day hung up.

Day swiped an empty coffee mug out of the kitchen cabinet, and hurried toward the front door. He took a calming breath before opening it. He strolled easily over to his bike and began digging through the side bags. He pulled out a Guns & Ammo magazine and stepped back up on God’s porch when he heard the lead thug ask, “What’s up with God? Playing hooky from the streets today?”

Day turned toward them as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But his heart was racing a mile a minute, knowing that God was in there on the floor burning up brain cells, and he should be in there trying to cool him off. Day had to handle this first. He took a fake sip of his nonexistent coffee before answering with a shrug.