Page 11 of Tye
A gurney appeared, and I was lifted onto it, and the camera followed me out.
“Shit, that was brutal,” I muttered, holding the mask.
A prickle of fear ran down my spine. I never wanted to experience that again. Not that feeling of helplessness or the lack of control over my breathing. I sucked down lungfuls of oxygen, trying not to panic as my brain kicked into overtime.
Mom got to her feet and rubbed my chest to soothe me.
“It was a fuckin’ shitstorm. The cameras also caught the insults that West had been spewing all night. Right now, West’s in a jail cell, and Mum is throwing lawyers at the police. She wants West charged with everything they can book him with. The Armourers haven’t released a statement yet, so we don’t know if they’re going to defend him or hang West out to dry,” Harley informed me.
“West was saying shit about Carmine all night. Every goal or assist I got, I yelled Carmine’s name. West thought he was riling me up, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was fuelling his team’s defeat,” I said.
“The players already voted. Show Tye the rest of it,” Mom interrupted.
Harley hit forward on the video and hit play. Both teams had returned to the ice, with ten minutes remaining. I gazed wide-eyed and stunned as the Armourers hugged the sides of the rink, making a mockery of playing but not actually playing. The goalie stood on one side of the net.
At first, I thought they were going to give the team a few goals to prove their disapproval. Instead, I watched as, for ten minutes, my team racked up goals. The crowd was silent, unsure how to respond.
Ward skated to a stop in the middle of the rink and held his arms above his head.
“Respect!” he bellowed, and his voice boomed around the stadium.
“Respect!” my teammates yelled in reply.
The crowd took the chant up as my teammates kept scoring, and finally, the ref blew the whistle.
“That score won’t stand,” I said, laughing at the figure on the scoreboard.
“It’s standing. The NHL has refused to overturn it despite some of the Armourers’ management getting on at them,” Harley replied.
“We’ll see if in a few days they change their mind,” Fanatic added.
“When can I get out of here?” I asked, not wanting to stay in a bed for weeks on end and certainly not in hospital.
“Not yet. Doc Paul needs to see you first, and you will follow his advice,” Mom stated firmly.
Jodie hustled her ass in the door and shut it. “Move Tye’s bed to the window,” she ordered.
Laughably, my brothers ignored her and hurried to look themselves.
Mom watched them and smiled. “That was obvious,” she said.
“Dude, you need to see this,” Harley stated and turned to me.
“Hospital bed,” I replied, waving my hands around.
Harley rolled his eyes with Fanatic, and they both unlocked the wheels and pushed it over. Jodie carefully pressed the button that lifted the top of the bed so I was in a sitting position, and I gazed out the window.
Outside the hospital was a huge mass of people. They wore Blackhawk hockey tops and some wore the Armourers. Media vans were scattered around as reporters filmed the peaceful crowd. They all stood together, arms linked, Blackhawk fanswith Armourer fans. And they swayed peacefully as they sang something.
“What are they singing?” I asked Jodie.
“Just different songs played at games. But look at that, Tye. They’re not beating the shit out of each other,” Jodie said, sounding amazed.
“Considering how much our fans hate each other, that’s a damn miracle in itself,” I replied.
“Means even more when you realise this is the Armourer’s home city. Despite the rivalry between your two clubs, the fans are showing that peace can be found,” Mom murmured.
“Just took my head being bashed in,” I sniped, and my family glared at me. “Too soon for jokes?”