Monday.
Mouse's
parents called.
Tuesday.
From the
Transcript of
The State of
Prosecutor: Are
you aware that your
husband kept a journal?
Mrs. Oliver: My
attorney
has mentioned that.
P: Did you have
any knowledge of this
journal when he was alive?
O: We weren't
close.
P: Please answer
the question.
O: No, I didn't.
P: Can you tell me
the date of the last
journal entry?
O: I just said I
wasn't
aware of it.
P: If it pleases
the court, this is the
journal in question. State's exhibit L. Mrs. Oliver, please read the
final
date.
O:
P: Just thirteen
days before you
murdered him.
O: Before he died,
yes.
Walter's thoughts drifted in a warm
void. They were diffused, unfocused, fuzzy. Gradually he became aware
of his
awareness. Tentatively he let his thoughts flow out and inspect the
void.
Suddenly he began experiencing new sensations. He was enjoying them.
Strangely
they did not feel new to him, but rather quite natural. It was as if
the
perceptions had been there all along but he was only now becoming aware
of
them. He could sense people he knew; people also in the void. There
were six of
them. He relaxed for a moment and their name's came to him: Alex,
Meredith, Pete,
Emily, Kyle and James. He could tell their exact positions relative to
himself.
He could tell that none of them, himself included, were moving. Knowing these things was
as simple and
natural as seeing, although the sensations were nothing like sight.
Nothing
describable. Walter
relaxed again and
marveled at these feelings. With a little effort, much like - yet
totally
different from - listening closely, he found he was able to sense
things about
these six. They were all unconscious. "How odd," he thought.
Slowly, and with many false starts,
Walter's mind wandered around to a memory of the accident. For a moment
he was
lost in the remembrance of having a body. What a wonderful thing,
bodies. Then
more memories flooded him. The silent explosion. The rays of light and
darkness. The sudden pain in his chest.
"Did I die? Am I dead?"
Walter asked the void. It did not answer.
Walter thought that death might
explain his current situation.
Walter became aware of a sound in the
void. A low rustling. Had it always been there? Was it new?
Then he felt something. Pressure. Yes,
he remembered feeling that before. It seemed eons ago. What was that
feeling?
His arm! Someone was squeezing his arm!
Suddenly Walter became aware of his
whole body. He was alive! He took inventory. His chest felt a little
stiff, but
he didn't hurt. In fact he felt great. He felt better than he
remembered
feeling in a long time.
While inspecting himself, he realized
that he could still sense the others. Surely there must be still others
nearby.
He tried to strain his new abilities. Nothing. There must be Doctors or
Nurses
("or morticians," a sarcastic side of him chimed in) around. He felt
no one else.
"What about the one that touched
me?" he mused. Was touching him still he realized. With the effort of a
man
relearning a complex task he hadn't attempted in several years, Walter
slowly
opened his eyes.
He gazed down at a young nurse taking
his blood pressure. She was staring at the gauge and didn't notice him.
Walter tried to ask how long he had
been asleep and was surprised to find his jaw fastened shut. No wait,
it was
just stiff. And oh so very dry.
"Water," he eventually
crocked out.
The nurse jumped back off the bed.
Assistant nurse or candy striper, Walter thought now that he had a
better look
at her. She couldn't be more than nineteen. She turned toward the door
in jerky
notions then jerked back around.
"Oh jeez," she sputtered,
"I mean… I'm going to go get the Doctor. Just stay put. I mean I'll be
right
back. Okay? I mean right… I'll be right back."
She sprinted out the door colliding
lightly with it’s frame.
"Poor girl," he thought,
"with a stronger chin and reasonable chest, she might be rather
attractive."
He dismissed her from his thoughts.
Walter looked about the hospital room.
The room had two beds but the other was empty, barren. On the table
next to
him, beside one of two chairs, was his wife's knitting bag. Olivia
didn't
really like to knit. She used knitting to combat periods of extensive
boredom,
usually caused by waiting. In fact, usually caused by waiting when she
was too
worried to read. The knitting bag meant that she had sat in that chair
waiting
for him to regain consciousness. And she'd been too anxious to while
away her
time with a book. Maybe she still cared after all.
*
* * * *
Dr. Ben Richard entered the room
almost immediately after being told Walter was awake. As he entered the
room he
made a notation on the patient's chart. At
The young girl his awakening had so
unnerved was wavering in the doorway. Ben turned to her and said,
"Mandy,
would you call his wife please?"
Looking relieved she set about her
task.
"I know you have a lot of
questions. But don't try to talk just yet. Let's get some water into
you, while
I try to answer the obvious ones. Okay?"
Walter nodded.
An older woman stepped into view from
behind the Doctor and played with something out of sight beneath
Walter's chin.
Suddenly she thrust a thick pliable tube into his mouth. He sucked on
it and
tepid water flowed into his mouth. Nirvana.
Despite his earlier offer, the Doctor
seemed intent on watching him and made no move to supply him with
information,
obvious or not.
When he finally did speak it was a
question. "All right then," Ben said as the nurse removed the tubing.
"Can you tell me your name?" he asked while he played a small
penlight across Walter's eyes.
With far less effort than he had been
expecting Walter replied, "I am Walter Oliver. I am a mathematics
teacher
at
As if not hearing him the Doctor
continued, "Can you tell me what year it is?"
"It's 1981, the President is
Ronald Reagan. How," he asked raising his voice, "long… have… I…
been… out?"
"You were brought in on Sunday,
today is Wednesday. You've been in a coma for the last three days. What
can you
tell me about the accident?"
"Accident?" Walter repeated
playing for time. What should he tell them? He was going to get sued,
possibly
jailed. Definitely fired. He could see that now.
"We were hoping you could tell us
what chemicals were involved."
"Chemicals?" Walter replied
genuinely confused this time.
"It's a very perplexing
situation. Seven patients are brought to me. Except for you all of them
are in
perfect health. Yet all seven are in comas."
The Doctor paused and his words sunk
in.
"I'm not
healthy? I feel fine." Walter asked. He was surprised that
he
wasn't more shaken up by the Doctor's hint. Then he realized he could
tell. He
was fine. He had not doubt whatsoever.
"Sorry, I worded that badly.
Don't worry you're recovering nicely now. Amazingly well actually. But
when you
were brought in you spent your first three hours on the operating table
while I
removed this from near your heart." The Doctor held up a glass
test-tube.
In it was a small semi-circular sliver of a silvery ring.
"You're actually a very lucky
man," Ben continued, "a hair to the left it would have punctured your
heart. A little to the right it would have nicked an artery."
Walter, who had stopped listening the
moment the Doctor produced the remains of the Artifact, suddenly
shouted,
"I want that. It's mine!"
The Doctor put the vial on the night
stand next him. "I figured you might want to keep this. As a
memento."
"Now back to the accident. What
chemicals were involved? The police didn't find any out of place. Can
you tell
me what took place?"
The word Police scared, and therefore
angered, Walter. He yelled out at the Doctor, "I don't remember what
happened. I'm a math teacher, I'm sure no chemicals were involved.
Leave me
alone. The students will be fine."
"You obviously need your rest.
I'm going to let you be for a while. I'm taking your awakening as a
very good
sign. I'm sure the others are going to be coming around soon."
The Doctor's sudden change caught
Walter off guard. As Ben walked toward the door Walter mentally
replayed the
conversation. An
unlikely suspicion
crossed his mind. "Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Cluck like a chicken for
me?"
The Doctor looked at him strangely for
a moment. Then laughed. "Don't worry about it Doctor Oliver. After an
experience like yours it takes a little while for all the circuits to
straighten themselves out. I'm not sure what you were implying, but I
won't
hold it against you. The important thing," he added with emphasis,
"is that you get some rest."
He left the room.
The Dr. Oliver laughed at himself. He
felt silly. "It would have been nice," he thought wistfully.
As Walter lay still thinking out his
options he became aware that Meredith ("Mouse, she calls herself
Mouse," he realized.) was coming much closer to consciousness. Maybe
just
a few more hours away. He could almost hear her thoughts. Like a sound
in a
chaotic crowd, or an idea you could almost remember. She was three
rooms down
the hall from him, assuming the rooms in between were the same size as
his. He
contemplated going down to visit her. Best to wait and plan, he decided.
*
* * * *