The Capitol Guard

She laid in her bed. The beeping of an EKG machine accelerated as she twitched her arms slightly. She first noticed the heart rate monitor clipped onto her left index finger and a needle installed in the crook of her right arm. She tried to rotate her neck but as she turned her head past forty-five degrees, felt a knot obstruct her movement. A neck brace kept her angled towards her body. Her arms and her torso were unbandaged and covered in a thin hospital gown. She breathed in and out, relieved at being able to accomplish the simple task without any external technology or additional pains. As she looked down at her body, she continued to breathe normally but hyperventilated when she caught the sight of her own legs. External braces and metal halos surrounded both of them. There were eight metallic rings around each of her legs; four around her shins and four more around each of her calves. They were held together with metal rods protruding through her skin and into her bones. Underneath her legs were some spots of dry blood and other fluids that had previously leaked out. The pain in her neck and her legs worsened as she regained consciousness, she tried to lift herself but heard the awful creaking sound of her external brace and screws rubbing against each other stopped her.

She felt calm and tried to fall back asleep, however, when she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of her last waking moments. She pictured herself with a small plastic shield and baton in her hands, carrying around fifty pounds of protective police gear she held her ground against the militia approaching the capitol building. It should have just been another day; she wasn’t ready to face the onslaught and protestors coming her way. She wasn’t ready to die.

The large crowd of people quickly approached her, she barricaded the doors and held her shield and baton up in case they breached the entrance. She held her ground, stabilized herself into a fighting stance, and extended her baton but she was outnumbered.

“Come to the south entrance,” one of the rioters screamed. “I found the weakest link.” It wasn’t long until she found herself on the ground. Dozens of rioters and rebels started carving their way through the hallways. The pepper spray was the first to make its way through her mask, she had sprayed it into the crowd, but the people running past her carried a heavy draft in her direction. She didn’t let the burning sensation deter her, but unfortunately, she couldn’t shake the tens of rebels pushing her to the ground. She tried her hardest to get back up again, but the rebels walked over her. Their heavy footsteps pinned her to the ground and crushed the bones in her legs. Luckily the shield was strong enough to protect her upper body and arms. The onslaught wouldn’t let up, they stole her gear and left her on the ground. While wriggling on the floor, she thought about how she would never be able to experience many joys in life: rising in the ranks, marriage, motherhood, old age, etc. And while she had small regrets about her past her biggest one was letting her country down.

It wasn't until many hours later when an armed militia of police came to the rescue of the capitol guards. The militia released a thick cloud of tear gas to clear the building, however, as the gas sunk down to the ground, she ended up soaking in the fog. A couple of armed guards found her on the ground as she wailed around in pain, crying and wheezing. They tried everything they could to help lessen her pain, however, were also afraid to touch her mangled body. The paramedics only then retrieved her a few hours after the rebels cleared the capitol grounds. As she was brought into the ambulance, the only thing she thought about was her loss of independence. Her face was scared, her legs were broken in multiple places, and she couldn’t see anything except for blurry shifts in light and colour. She could no longer serve her country in a way she deemed meaningful and would need to be fully reliant on her boyfriend, assuming they were still together.

She called out for her boyfriend but could only make grunting sounds. However, he heard them and rushed to her side. “How are you?” He touched her unbandaged face while avoiding any of her delicate facial features and her neck brace.

“I’m awake, I’m fine,” she inaudibly whispers, trying to get off the bed.

“You’re my little national hero, but don’t move, not even a little bit.” He put his arm over her chest.

Her left leg jolting away from him caused a nervous tick to shoot down her spine and to her thigh. She involuntarily screamed and immediately stopped moving, centred her head and lay motionless. Once she found a comfortable position, she looked at her boyfriend and took in a lungful of recirculated air. “How long have you been here?”

The dark circles and visible bags underneath his eyes, the uneven stubble around his jaw and the odour were the biggest giveaways to indicate he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a long time. Yet he smiled, “Every second you were asleep.”

“You look terrible.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t have traded this time for anything else.”

She saw the loving way he held her gaze. He held her hands and stood above her so she wouldn’t strain her neck. She knew he loved her above all else, which only made her feel worse about the last moment between the two of them the morning before the riot.

The two of them prepared to get ready for their respective jobs in their shared apartment. She happened to come across her boyfriend’s computer. It was left open, and she managed to read some messages in group chats from his video game sessions. Some of the people exhibited similar views to the rebels. In particular, one message read: ‘The way we seized this base is how we should break into the capitol’. So she confronted him. While he was initially dismissive of her accusations, she knew how to get him to talk. She took his laptop and held it above her head. He confessed immediately. He entertained some of the people he met about a possible uprising against their country, and their video game sessions workshopped the perfect simulations for a potential coup. She scalded him and even threatened to arrest him for these messages, however, she couldn’t bring herself to follow through with the threat as she loved him too much. So she decided to give him an ultimatum: her or the video games. He was initially reluctant as it was his private property and felt he shouldn’t give up a hobby for his significant other. Furious, she smashed his PC and stormed out of their apartment. He collected the pieces and took them to a computer repair shop, only to be told the computer wouldn’t run anymore.

“About what happened before I left,” she teared up. “I’m so sorry for destroying your PC. It wasn’t any of my business.”

“I can’t believe that’s what you are thinking of right now.” Her boyfriend traced his hand up her arm. “You were right. I shouldn’t have been involved with those people. I should have suspected some of them were rebels, and I'm ashamed for calling them friends and for as long as I did. But I strongly voiced my opposition to storming the capitol and I should have been there with you. I would have taken them down one by one.”

She looked at her boyfriend through narrow slits, tried to shake her head in disagreement but winged in pain before turning her head once. “I don’t think your video game knowledge would have helped. You aren’t killing zombies. These are real people who engaged in a terrorist attack. We can’t just mow them down and reload with a seemingly infinite amount of ammunition.”

“I know, but I wish I could have done more.”

“You did plenty," she reassured him. "It’s because of you we were prepared for the attack today.” Some of her colleagues had noticed she was in a bad mood in the locker room. So they comforted her, and she opened up about her fight to everyone in proximity. Some of them requested to see the chat logs, so she shared them. With all the information she could pull from her boyfriend’s video game profiles, everyone managed to do some more research through online chat forums and saw not only the rebel’s plan but their leader’s speeches explaining how he would usurp the presidency after the capitol had been weakened. While the squad only had a few hours to prepare for such an invasion, they defended themselves for as long as they could. And with the help of extra reinforcements, they had successfully warded off the attack. In the end, she was grateful for her boyfriend’s lies.

She wanted to lift her arm and hold her boyfriend’s hand, but all she could do was fold her arm and collapse on her shoulder. Her boyfriend saw this and moved his hand upwards and interlaced their fingers.

“You called me a national hero,” she teared up again.

“Not just me,” he smirked. “Look,” he brought some items around her bed so she could look at them. Large bouquets, get-well cards and stuffed animals lined her tables and floor, and while some were from members of her squad, most were from people she had only heard of, whom she had never met. “I recognize some names: senators, members of parliament, one is from the president. They’re comparing you to the cops that defended the USA from their failed coup attempts. You’re immortal.” He looked at his girlfriend’s frowning face. She hadn't looked as sad as she did when he cleaned her face of pepper spray, boot marks and dried blood. She didn’t like empty gestures and gifts because they wouldn’t have fixed her condition. The rebels wouldn't stop after one failed coup attempt, and she knew she couldn’t return back to her job in her condition now or ever and it upset her greatly. “But that doesn’t matter. I know you still want to serve your country and someday you will. I will be here every day for your recovery.”

“You don’t have to do that; we have doctors and health insurance. I need to learn how to heal on my own.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You are already one of the toughest people I know and are certainly the stronger one in this relationship. But you take it too far sometimes. Did you even call for backup?” He waited for a response, and when none came, he knew the answer. “Sometimes it’s okay to take smaller steps, there’s nothing wrong with getting a little help, or in your case a lot.

“When you were asleep, I stayed by your side every day when you were hooked up to the ventilator. I’ve changed your bedsheets, given you a sponge bath and cleaned all the scars on your body including neutralizing the tears on your face. Your squad wouldn’t have stopped the coup, but they got help and as a result, we won. I have helped you for weeks now and I will continue to guide you when you get those wire cages off your legs and when you take your first step as a new woman.”

The realization dawned on her; there was a possibility she’d never walk again. She wanted to prove him wrong so badly, but couldn’t find a way to do so, especially since a simple leg movement caused her to scream. Hearing the genuine concern from her boyfriend snapped her back to reality. Any misstep in her recovery could lead to greater damage down the line. However, she focused on one line in his speech: “You really think I will be able to get back up again?” She raised her voice slightly. A small gleam of optimism invigorated her.

“Yes,” he backed up to the hospital door out of frame from her vision, but towards the window of her hospital room. He opened the curtains and let the sunlight in, warming her bare legs. The metal halos on her legs scattered the beams around the room, bouncing off nearby walls, flowers and other presents. He then turned to the hallway corridor and noticed a couple of people peeking out from the doorway, walked up to them and gently shut the door. “The doctors briefed me on your condition, it will take months of physical therapy, but they have seen people in similar condition recover from their injuries. With help, I know you will heal.”

“Why did you close the door?” she asked.

“A couple of nosy reporters want to interview you,” he answered. “You are kind of a big deal now. The leader of the rebels is being extradited, and some think he can be brought up on charges related to his failed coup attempt as long as he’s brought in front of an international panel of judges.”

“That’s incredible but I guess I’m in no condition to interview anyone.” She hung her head and whispered. “You know, you should answer them,” she brought her head back up and slightly raised her voice. “We wouldn’t have stood a fighting chance if it weren’t you.”

He chuckled. “All I did was associate myself with a bad crowd while simultaneously dating the right person, you were the one that acted.” An idea popped into his head, and he decided to do something a little rash. “You do seem to be in a much better mood, you’re no longer whispering or shivering. How would you like to serve your country from the comfort of your own bed?”

She nodded her head.

He took a tea towel and cleaned the tears around her face, then took a comb and straightened out her hair. “Are you ready to take another stand, national hero?”

“Let them in,” she directed her boyfriend. “And stay by my side. I need you.”

Her boyfriend kissed her on the cheek and allowed one reporter into the room.

“Would you like to release a statement?” asked the reporter.

She pushed herself up using her unbandaged hands and held her boyfriend’s hand. “I may have been trampled, incapacitated, beaten to a bloody pulp and scavenged, but none of that will quash my love for this country or my ability to fight. We will still fight for our values, and I may not be able to join the front lines, but I will get better.” She looked at her bare feet and wiggled one of her big toes; she let out a small, but painless smile. “This is not the end of my story and if anyone’s worried about me not being able to run anymore, don’t be. We should instead be more worried about the rebels. Hopefully, by the end of the trial, their seditious leader will lose his ability to run.”