[Wealth of Time 01.0] Wealth of Time

by Andre Gonzalez

  “Yes, I am. Is everything okay?”

  No, Sonya, everything is not okay. Martin is over 90 minutes late and there’s a state trooper standing at your front door.

  “I understand Martin Briar lives here with you, is that correct?”

  Hearing the officer speak Martin’s name sent an instant rush of blood into her belly. Oh, no, this is bad.

  “Well, ma’am, I have some unfortunate news. Mr. Briar is currently in a coma in Littleton Adventist Hospital. He was in a nasty car accident involving a semi truck.”

  Her hands shot to her mouth as relief and panic both settled. Relief from knowing he wasn’t dead, panic about the coma. Her hands started to tremble, and the officer noticed.

  “From what we’ve been told, he’ll make it out. The doctors aren’t considering the coma to be life-threatening. There’s also no timetable for when they expect him to come to, so it might be best for you to go to the hospital and speak with them yourself.”

  “You said he’s in Littleton? What was he doing all the way out there?” she asked, running through any possibilities in her mind, but coming up with nothing.

  “We were hoping you might know. We recovered his MapQuest directions in the car and found his starting point as his old apartment. We went there and spoke with the landlord who informed us that Martin had moved in with you not too long ago. Does the last name Klebold mean anything to you?”

  “Klebold?” She paused and rummaged through her mind’s filing cabinets of random knowledge. “It’s not ringing a bell for me, sorry.”

  “That’s strange, we reached out to their family and they don’t know who he is, either. Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us more when he wakes up. Do you know your way to the hospital in Littleton?”

  “Yes, I should be able to find it. Will they let me visit him now, or do I have to wait until the morning?”

  “You’re good to go there now. Here’s my card, let me know if you think of anything later on that might help.”

  Sonya took the card and forced a fake smile to the officer who tipped his hat, wished her a good evening, and left. She closed the door and thought deeply of any connection Martin might have had in Littleton, still unable to come up with anything. She’d have to go there first to speak with the doctors, make sure he was okay, and then try to get to the bottom of what he was doing in Littleton after work.

  She rushed back to the kitchen, threw the pasta in a container before grabbing her keys and purse, and headed out.

  It was now 7:15, the sun descending behind the mountains as Sonya drove, wondering what Martin was hiding from her.

  31

  Chapter 31

  Sonya had never been to Littleton. The drive felt like an eternity, the thought of Martin lying comatose weighing down on her. After forty minutes on the road, she finally pulled up to Littleton Adventist Hospital.

  The hospital stood four stories tall, its fluorescent lights glowing in the night sky. Within those walls was a man she loved. Anxiety had gnawed at her during the drive; she wanted to make sure he was okay, but at the same time wanted to shake him awake and demand answers.

  Just go in there and make sure he’s okay, because that’s all that matters right now.

  With her courage finally built up, she stepped out of the car and walked toward the main entrance on a mission.

  “Good evening,” Sonya said, approaching a young nurse at the front desk. “I’m looking for Martin Briar. I believe he was admitted here today.“

  The nurse’s eyebrows perched up. “Yes, Mrs. Briar, he’s in our care. If you can have a seat for a moment, I’ll have another nurse take you to his room.”

  Mrs. Briar, Sonya thought, not wanting to correct the nurse. It does have a nice ring.

  The hospital was rather quiet, one family gathered in the main lobby where two kids ran circles around their seated mother and father. Sonya strode toward a seat and plopped herself down. A couple of vending machines hummed, and somewhere in the distance a radio talk show chattered softly.

  Mrs. Briar, she thought again. She had ruled out marriage after she turned 45, believing at that point it was well too late to begin a family, so why bother with the formalities of signing a government document to seal a romantic relationship?

  The mere thought of a wedding still sent a flutter to her chest, just as it had when she was 23 and madly in love with her college sweetheart. She had the dress, wedding colors, and songs all picked out in her head and knew exactly how her big day would play out to the finest details. That was until a year later when she walked in to her boyfriend’s apartment to find him in the shower with another man. The shock had never really left, and she wasn’t sure if she was more surprised that he was gay, or that he had cheated on her.

  This incident had sparked a chain of trust issues that would haunt her in every following relationship. She could never fully submit her soul to another man, the sounds of her ex-soulmate moaning in the shower as the other man groped his crotch forever ringing in her head.

  “At least this happened now instead of after you two got married.” That’s what all the women in her life, from her friends to her grandmother, told her following the tragedy, as if they could relate.

  Being cheated on was one thing. Living a lie was a whole new ballgame, and reality sunk in that five years of her life were wasted, a feeling that ate her alive from the inside. There was no lesson to be learned from the relationship; everything had become moot the second she learned her fiancé was living a double life.

  Now she sat in the hospital, almost twice her age since that tragedy, wondering if this was the same thing playing out before her eyes. Surely Martin would have a reason to be in Littleton; he didn’t exactly take random cruises around the state. But could she believe his reason if it didn’t sound truthful?

  They had mentioned the Klebold family, but she had never heard of them. Did he meet a rich housewife at the post office who took a liking to him?

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a nurse shouted from the door next to the reception desk. She was an older black woman, staring at Sonya with bulging brown eyes. “Follow me, ma’am.”

  The nurse pushed the door open as Sonya approached, allowing her to pass through to the main hallway that stretched to dozens of patient rooms.

  “We’re gonna take the elevator to the third floor. We have Mr. Briar stabilized, but the doctor will want a word with you.”

  “Is he still. . .”

  “Yes, he’s still comatose. The doctor will give you all of the details on his condition. Just to clarify, you’re his only living relative, correct?”

  There had clearly been some miscommunication between the Littleton police and the hospital as they all tried to piece together who exactly was Martin Briar.

  “He has no living relatives that I know of. I’m his girlfriend; we live together in Larkwood.”

  Sonya thought she heard the nurse snicker at the mention of Larkwood, but brushed it off as the elevator doors spread apart in front of them. She followed and watched as she pushed the button for the third floor.

  “No family at all?” the nurse asked. “That poor man. At least he has you to look out for him.”

  The nurse had to say no more to kick Sonya’s mind back into panic mode. What kind of person had zero family? Martin had to be hiding something. Things weren’t adding up, and every revealed detail led to more questions that she’d have to wait to ask until he woke up.

  “He’s right this way, ma’am,” the nurse said as she led them out of the elevator and down another hallway. The third floor was even more deserted than the first, many of the lights dimmed and providing an eerie glow over the Intensive Care Unit.

  The nurse stopped in front of door 317, poked her head in, and held out an open arm to guide Sonya into the room.

  “Have a seat and the doctor will be with you in just a minute. You can even talk to Mr. Briar if you wish. They say people in comas will sometimes respond to a familiar voice. I’ll leave you to
it.”

  The nurse vanished as Sonya entered the room, lit by a lone lamp standing on the table next to Martin’s bed. She hardly recognized him with the tubes running in and out of his body. A clear oxygen mask covered his face while other wires ran from his forehead to a nearby machine charting what she assumed was his brain activity; it was practically a flat line. An IV ran into his arm for hydration, and more wires appeared from his chest area to a heart monitor machine, beeping softly with each pulse.

  Sonya remained frozen in the doorway and could tell, from a distance, that Martin’s skin had turned a tint of yellow, making him appear as if he had aged another decade overnight.

  When she mustered the courage to get closer, she approached her lover with trembling hands over her mouth, standing directly over him and looking into his closed eyes, wondering what he was doing lost in his own mind. His hair splayed out wildly beneath his head and she noticed more gray and white hairs than before.

  “Oh, Martin,” she whispered, running a hand along his arm. His index finger twitched when she touched him, causing her to recoil.

  “That’s perfectly normal,” a squeaky voice said from behind. She turned to see an older man in a white lab coat. “Good evening, I’m Dr. Benjamin Lincoln.”

  The doctor stood short with a slight hunch in his back. He smiled warmly at Sonya as he stuck a hand out, short white hairs on his fingers that matched the curls on his head.

  “Hello, Dr. Lincoln. My name is Sonya; I’m Martin’s girlfriend.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Dr. Lincoln pulled out a pair of glasses from his coat pocket and slid them over his crooked nose. He turned in a swift motion to grab a file on the table next to the heart rate monitor. “Now, would you like to speak in here or in my office?”

  Sonya turned back to Martin, seemingly gasping for every puff of air. “I’d like to stay in here if that’s okay.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s have a seat on the other side of Mr. Briar.” Dr. Lincoln shuffled across the foot of the bed to the two chairs tucked in the corner beside the window overlooking the hospital’s parking lot. Sonya followed and took her seat next to the doctor, who had already flipped open his folder and rummaged through a stack of papers. The anticipation had reached its peak and she couldn’t stand to wait.

  “Just tell me the news, doctor. I’ve been losing my mind the whole way over here.”

  He looked at Sonya with heavy blue eyes, but that smile never left his face. “Let me start by saying you’re boyfriend here is very lucky. Did the police give you any details of what happened?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Mr. Briar was in his car, in the middle of the road, I believe making a U-turn, when a diesel truck came flying around the corner and collided with him. The truck struck his car along the passenger side, which is good, and sent his car rolling three times over itself.”

  Dr. Lincoln paused and grabbed a tissue box for Sonya when he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “How exactly is this lucky?” she asked through her sobs.

  “Well, if his car had been turned the other way, the impact would have hit him directly, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. It appears his head came into contact with the driver’s side window as we found shards of glass in his skull and hair. If it had been anything else, say the steering wheel or the actual door, again, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. His head broke the window and the impact was enough to put him into a coma.”

  “How serious is the coma?”

  “Comas are always serious, but it appears this one is not fatal. I’d guess a week maximum until Mr. Briar wakes up. We’ve tried different therapies to get a response from his brain, with some success. I’d say Mr. Briar is very much alert within his coma, whatever that might mean, we’re not exactly sure.”

  “How can you know when he’ll wake up?”

  “It’s not an exact science, nor is the technology to say for certain. All we can do is make an educated guess by comparing his brain’s responsiveness to cases in the past. The way his mind is trending makes me think this is very much a short term coma.”

  “How will he be when he wakes up? Will he remember anything?”

  “That we don’t know. A majority of comatose patients will have struggles with short-term memory, often forgetting the event that may have put them in to the coma in the first place. But, every case is different, so it’s a matter of waiting and seeing when the time comes.”

  Sonya shook her head, trying to absorb the information along with the intensity of the situation.

  “Are there any other questions you might have?” Dr. Lincoln asked.

  “What am I supposed to do while he’s in the coma? Can I stay here with him?”

  “There’s honestly no need for that. I can say confidently that he will be fine. He suffered no damage to other organs, and it’s just a matter of waiting. There’s no chance for him to have any sort of relapse into a dangerous zone. He’s stable and functioning as best as we could hope for. You can come visit whenever you wish, but know that we will call you as soon as he wakes up.”

  “Please do. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “If you have nothing else for me, I’ll leave you alone with Mr. Briar. Talk to him. Touch him. It sparks responsiveness in the mind, and that’s all we’re looking for.”

  Dr. Lincoln patted Sonya on the shoulder before leaving her alone with Martin.

  She turned back to him, a lifeless collection of tubing and wires, and could no longer hold back the floodgates swelling behind her eyes.

  “Oh, Martin, please don’t forget who I am,” she cried, tears dripping onto his limp arm. “I love you and can’t lose you. I can’t do this again.”

  She would stay beside him for another thirty minutes before the tears cleared up and she was able to drive home.

  32

  Chapter 32

  Martin knew he was in a dream, but could sense it wasn’t an ordinary one. He felt awake within himself, like wandering through an endless fog of emptiness.

  The scenery in this dream constantly changed. One moment he was walking through an empty town with cobblestone roads and ancient buildings lining the sidewalks. Then he’d free fall and land in a new place. Sometimes it was another deserted city, other times an empty room. This cycle continued for what felt an eternity, changing locations every few hours.

  He currently stood in a dark, empty room, where a long bulb flickered on the ceiling, providing light no brighter than a single candle. Silence filled his head, piercing his mind as he could only hear the sound of his breathing.

  “Hello?” he asked the room, his voice echoing into unknown depths. He couldn’t make out any nearby walls as he paced around, his hands splayed in front of him in search of anything to make contact with.

  He held his breath to better hear what he thought were voices whispering in the distance, but found it to be his voice still echoing faintly, as if traveling down a tunnel.

  Martin had wandered at least thirty steps away from the flickering light, but the room felt no less dark than where he had stood previously.

  The ground rumbled and he immediately knew a change of scenery was underway. He sat on the ground, having learned his lessons from the first two instances when he collapsed, out of balance and flailing. Since then, he sat every time the ground rumbled and waited for his arrival at the next unknown destination.

  The ground became light, a floating sensation as he pictured himself flying on a magic carpet like Aladdin. If he could see the walls around him, he’d see them passing by in a blur, like riding a train and staring out the window. He wasn’t sure if he was teleporting, falling, or flying, and he didn’t care to find out.

  Just sit down and enjoy the ride.

  The rumbling of the ground beneath his ass settled into a soft vibration before halting completely upon his arrival.

  The darkness of the prior room gave
way to bright lights. When the gravity returned to normal, Martin stood on weary legs to explore his newest location: an empty library.

  Shelves of books stretched as far as he could see. The librarian’s desk stood thirty feet to his left, abandoned, a lone computer monitor turned on to a black screen with a digital clock bouncing around as a screensaver.

  The silence didn’t feel as thick in the library, not ringing in Martin’s head. He looked up to see a second floor with more bookshelves and tables overlooking the first floor. The library felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite piece it together.

  He’d had that problem when he first arrived in this dream, struggling to remember the most basic things. A voice within told him he wasn’t in a dream, that maybe he had died. And while he knew he wasn’t in a regular dream, he couldn’t muster the mind power to piece together what had actually happened. All he could do was explore the ever changing places around him.

  Martin moved his legs that felt like bricks, dragging them closer toward the computer, the sensation like walking through two feet of mud as he forced his legs to move every inch forward.

  “Psssst!” a voice whispered from behind, sending an instant chill down Martin’s spine. “Hey, mister.”

  The voice sounded adolescent, and Martin pivoted around to face it.

  Two pale boys stood ten feet away. How did they get there? The library had rows of books in every direction, no exit in sight. The boys stood side-by-side, each holding a gun in hand.

  The boy on the left had a long face, pointy noise, and short, spiked brown hair. A smirk revealed a charming countenance to go along with his light green eyes. The boy on the right was taller by at least six inches and had his flowing, sandy hair brushed back to reveal his green eyes. Both wore matching black trench coats that covered them from neck to ankle.

  Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. This is all a dream. They’re not really standing in front of you.