More Gerald

Lola Smith sat perched on the hospital bed, her feet in stirrups, her face red and drenched with sweat and tears. She let out a low moan and her husband Greg squeezed her hand, his face showing grim concern. The midwife placed a hand over Lola's belly and told her to “push!”
Later Lola slept, her baby son being rocked gently by Greg, who sat next to her in the ward. Her eyes fluttered open and she tilted her head looking up at Greg. 'What happened?'
'You passed out,' Greg said, cradling his son. 'I'll get the nurse.'
'No,' Lola said, a rush of energy filling her voice. 'Wait.'
'Honey, you've been out for two days.'
Lola took this in, thinking. Her eyes drifted to the window and she gently placed her hand on Greg's arm. 'Let me hold him.'
Greg bent down and let Lola's arms wrap around her son before saying, 'It's not safe for me here.'
Lola nodded and looked up at her young husband. He wore a grey hooded jumper from the university he had enrolled in during the summer. 'Is he like us?' Lola motioned towards the sleeping infant in her arms.
Greg nodded.
'What have you been doing? You said you wouldn't even be here for this,' Lola said, tears welling up in her eyes.
Greg pulled a folded newspaper from his backpack on the floor. He studied it and sighed. 'I did leave,' he finally said.
'What brought you back?' Lola asked, kissing her son on the head.
Greg turned the paper to Lola, she read the small headline at the bottom of the front page; “Man stops speeding train!” It looked like a tabloid article, but Lola saw that it was a decent paper.
'You?' She asked without looking up at Greg.
'No,' he said, but faltered. 'Kind of.'
Lola shook her head, her son finally waking. 'Shh,' she whispered, kissing his head again.
'There was this guy,' Greg began, 'Just a boy really.'
Lola looked up expectantly.
'I,' Greg put his hand behind his head, scratching at nothing in particular. 'I helped him.'
'What was his name?' Lola asked.
'Jerry something,' Greg scratched again. 'He said his name was Jerry Wilkins.'
'Jerry,' Lola repeated quietly, looking at her son. 'How old was he?' she asked.
'Eighteen,' Greg said with a sigh.
Tears began to form in Lola's eyes again and she pulled her son close, kissing him on the head repeatedly.
'I'm sorry,' Greg looked down at his young wife.
'No,' Lola said finally, wiping the tears away with her free hand. 'Don't be.'
'I have to go now,' Greg said and moved to leave. 'I'll get the nurse,' he said over his shoulder.
'Wait,' Lola called.
'What is it?'
'Will you help him too?' Lola looked down at her son. 'When the time comes, will you help him too?'
Greg shook his head and left.
Lola cried openly, knowing she would never see the man she loved again. A nurse stepped into the room looking slightly bewildered. 'Mrs. Smith?' She questioned.
'Ms. Smith,' Lola corrected, wiping a tear from her cheek.
'Good to see you and baby...' The nurse faltered.
'Jerry,' Lola said. 'Baby Jerry.'
The nurse stepped over to the bed, still looking slightly confused. She leant down and placed her hand on the tiny boy's head, her confused expression breaking into a smile as the infant opened his eyes. 'He looks like a Jerry to me,' she said. 'Little baby Gerald.'

The force of the train caused Gerald's arms to buckle. He saw the speeding mass of iron and death falter. His palms burning and bleeding, Gerald held on. The impact forced his spine into the steel side of the bus, compacting the bones and severing the nerves. He felt the flesh on his back tear and that was the last physical sensation Gerald felt. His body went numb, but his mind raced. His thoughts centred on one concept, one focus. This train will not touch this bus. Gerald repeated the thought in his mind, it took on a life of it's own circling around his head. A strange energy came from the thought and although his body was broken and numb, Gerald maintained his position. The thought evolved, twisting and growing, gaining mass and power with each loop of his disturbed mind. Eventually, this train will not touch this bus became, this train will not touch me.
Gerald felt a sudden release of pressure on his hands and spine. He looked forward and saw the train slide backwards on the track. The sound of the engine screaming and dying deafened Gerald. He looked down and saw specks of blood on his shirt. He watched and realised they were coming from his nose. Turning his head slightly Gerald saw more droplets of blood on his shoulders. These could be coming from his ears, but he couldn't be sure.
A booming roar and a final crash that almost knocked the rigid Gerald over sounded, and he knew the train was dead. Gerald collapsed onto the ground, unable to move or blink. He felt unable to breathe and through his ruptured eardrums he heard a faint hissing noise coming from his chest. Gerald's limp torso flopped over on the ground and the shattered mass of bones and mangled organs caved in on itself.
His eyes were drawn to the bus stop across the street and Gerald watched as the man in the grey jumper stood and walked over to him.
'How you doing kid?' The man asked, kneeling beside him. Blood oozed from Gerald's mouth, although he couldn't speak anyway.
'Don't worry, son,' the man rested a hand on Gerald's head. 'Close your eyes now.'
Gerald refused to let his eyelids drop, knowing how damaged and beaten he was.
'Close your eyes Gerald,' the man repeated. He leant in closer and whispered into Gerald's ear, barely audible through the blood, 'Close your eyes, and you'll wake up.'
Gerald's eyelids fluttered but he held on.
'Time to wake up Gerald,' the man stroked his hair, 'You did it son.' Gerald saw the man's wide smile, his eyes full of tears. 'You did it.'
Gerald closed his eyes.