You have done well, way-walker. Stay or move on, the choice is in your hands now.
Christian stared up at the wounded sky, the preternaturally tall woman (for despite the black veil that completely obscured her form, her demeanor and tone were so classically female that there could be no doubt in his mind) just at the edge of his vision. He wanted to turn his head and look at her, but he had nothing left in him to give impetus. So instead he stared at the sky, watching the red deepen to browns and slowly to black.
It's getting dark, he said, or thought he said. The dimming figure in black shook her head so slowly and almost imperceptibly that one might have mistaken it for a shiver or a trick of the wind.
No, way-walker. It is you who is fading, not the light. Travel well, and mayhap we will meet again on some other plane. She sounded so sad. As if sensing his thoughts, she responded. It does grieve me. You have come further than any other creature from your world of light and water has in a very long time, even by the measure of those who live outside time. But you have made your choice to move on, and I cannot keep you here.
Dying. That was what she meant. Ah, he understood that now. He thought he might feel more sorrow over it, but he couldn't honestly muster the strength. He'd miss June and Oliver, and Rei, and Sebastian of course, but that wasn't enough to make him keep fighting to pull air into his lungs or to watch the spinning sky darken into blackness. He let his eyes slip closed at last. As she had said, he had come far and done well. He had earned a rest.
Except now something raw and burning filled his chest painfully, threatening to choke him. He couldn't decipher it, make it behave like it ought, even as it filled his lungs afresh. I'm drowning, he thought, baffled. Again, his lungs filled with that raw burn, and he was beginning to be aware of chaos around him.
"Goddamn you, breathe!" a familiar voice grated by his ear, terror and grief making it harsh. Again, that horrible pain, and this time Christian choked on it. He coughed violently, gagging, drowning on air before his autonomic systems kicked back into full function, and he took a gulp of air. He was becoming more aware of the chaos of sounds around him, sobbing, panicked voices, the hurry of running steps. He took another breath, the freezing air burning in his nose and lungs but no longer drowning him. As awareness continued to grow, he felt a hand resting lightly on his chest, and someone holding his hand. Reluctantly, Christian opened his eyes.
The sky was no longer bloodied and bruised, but the cold flat white of winter. Crouched beside him, soft grey eyes bright with tears, was Rei. Lovely, impossible, infuriating, loyal Rei, silky black hair framing his pale face. He smacked his hand gently against Christian’s chest, volumes of concern and affection expressed in that simple gesture. Christian mustered as much strength as he could and squeezed Rei's gloved hand. Someone else moved into his peripheral vision, and crouched beside him. Struggling still, Christian turned his head to stare up at Lazzaro.
"You idiot," Lazzaro mumbled, caught between anger and relief. "You dumb little bastard." He grasped Christian's shoulder and tightened his fingers. "The ambulance is coming, hang tight. What on earth have you been doing; do you have any idea how scared we've been?"
"Back off," Rei muttered. "He has been through a dark place, he does not need you lecture him." Christian smiled at Rei's sloppy English. Why did he think he could have willing left that behind? How could he have tried leaving the perfect little corkscrew curl of hair that refused to obey Lazzaro's liberal application of styling products? Each flake of snow that stood out against their dark hair and coats like a tiny perfect star broke his heart. So much beauty, and he had been willing to turn away from it all.
"I'm sorry," he croaked, his throat still aching miserably. "My God, I am so sorry." Lazzaro and Rei both looked taken aback, Lazzaro reddening slightly. "I am so sorry."
"Don't...." Lazzaro began, trailing off as his voice shook. Christian didn't hear the rest of it as paramedics finally arrived, shooing people back to give them room to work. Exhausted, Christian let himself drift back down into semi-consciousness, letting the sounds and sensations wash over him in waves. He was vaguely aware of his responses to the paramedics, vaguely aware of being moved, vaguely aware of it all. As he was rolled away to the waiting ambulance, he turned his head to look back at his friends. Lazzaro leaned against Rei, overcome with emotion. Behind them, like a rip in the shining white world, was a tall veiled figure of black.
When next Christian was fully aware of his surroundings, he had a hard time determining exactly what time it was. The cold, trembling fluorescent lights gave no sense of time of day, and his hospital bed had no clear view of the window. His arm was itching quite a bit, and further investigation revealed it to be a slight irritation around the adhesive holding his IV line in place. He wondered briefly where his glasses were before realizing that he wasn't even sure if he had been wearing them when Rei had found him. He laid back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He felt weak, certainly, and hungry, which was an improvement, but aside from some aches and pains and that itch on his arm, he didn't feel terrible. Hunger, in fact, seemed to be the most pressing concern. He wondered if the nurse on call would be offended if he buzzed for her. He wondered if that was how it actually worked. He'd never been in the hospital before.
The entire matter was solved by the door opening. Christian opened his eyes and saw a rather anxious-looking young man in scrubs coming into the room, clipboard in hand. The young man looked genuinely surprised to see Christian awake and watching him.
"I'm Jeff, and I'm just going to be checking your vital signs," the nurse said, smiling tentatively. "How are you feeling?"
"Hungry," Christian replied. "Sore? What time is it?"
"It's about 6:30 in the morning. Oh, and it's been two days since you were admitted. You've been in and out of it, but mostly out." Jeff gave another nervous smile. "Breakfast will be by in about fifteen minutes." He scribbled on his clipboard, then encouraged Christian to sit upright so that he could better listen to his chest and back. "We may be able to take that IV and the catheter out today too. That's going to be up to the doctor, and he won't be around for another hour. " He gave Christian a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Just take it easy, boss. You're in good hands here."
Throughout the course of the morning it became increasingly apparent to Christian that he must have said or done something during his two lost days that had rattled the nursing staff and doctors. Everyone was extremely polite, and very kindly, but they all had the same anxious, wary demeanor that Jeff had exhibited. It did not ease Christian's discontentment, but there was very little that could be done for that.
He had begun to realize that he had been very close to death, and he honestly could not fathom how he had gotten to that brink in the first place or how he had managed to not go over the edge. As he sat in his bed and stared at the beach painting across the room, he tried ticking off the sequence of events in his mind. It kept getting hazy at about his fourth day without sleep, but he was pretty certain, even as reality had become steadily more unraveled and tangled, that he had gone for a week without sleep, and several days without food. It seemed highly improbable, especially given how quickly he seemed to be snapping back from it. Even the doctor that morning had made an off-hand comment about the speed of his recovery. What had happened to him?
More worrisome, he had called his parents that morning, since he would have thought they would have put aside their disappointment in him to be by his side. Apparently June and Oliver had also been struck down with what they presumed to be a particularly virulent flu strain. Oliver was too ill to travel, and June was secure in her dormitory and being cared for by Jessica and Student Health. Mom had assured Christian that as soon as she was confident in Oliver's health, she would be flying to Cleveland to check on both her older children. Christian had made a half-hearted attempt to sound comforted by that news, and expressed his concern for his younger siblings, then excused himself from further conversation by claiming fatigue. It had not been a stretch of the truth either. The news about June and Oliver had drained his spirits badly. What the hell was happening?
No comments:
Post a Comment