by C. S. Won
“So if not a coma, then what?”
The doctor shrugged. “Hibernation, perhaps? I’m not sure. Hopefully, the tests we conduct will reveal the answer.” He folded his arms. “I wonder—could the others be waking up too?”
“Others?”
The doctor gave him a look, as if he couldn’t believe something so ignorant. “Did Ms. Ewing not tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Jae looked up at Madeline. “Honey?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I should have told you, but I was too caught up in the moment to think about anything else.” She smiled at him and cleared her throat. “It’s like the doctor said: there were several others who were also struck by lightning, and they all fell into comas like you did.”
“Here in Georgia?”
“The entire world,” the doctor said.
“I’m not following.”
The doctor off took his glasses and scrubbed the lenses with the bottom of his tie. “The lightning storm that passed through was not a local one—it was global. For a good ten or fifteen minutes, there was not a single patch of dry earth to stand on, no matter which region of the world you resided in. A person standing in China experienced the same thing as a person standing in the United States: heavy rain and lightning. Satellite imagery showed our planet being shrouded in a thick grey muck, without a single speck of blue or green peeking through.”
Jae gave him a funny look. “That’s impossible. A storm that large can’t exist.”
“I didn’t believe it either, but the reports are consistent, and there are pictures and footage available. It’s quite a sight to behold, really.”
“This is a joke, right?” Jae looked up at Madeline. “Right?”
She shook her head. “It’s all true.”
What the hell was he waking up to? A global thunderstorm? “What was the explanation for the storm, then? Where did it come from?” Jae asked.
“Experts believe it originated somewhere over Arizona, but that’s all they really know, even six months later. They haven’t been able to figure out how or why it was able to spread so quickly and consume the planet. It’s all a great mystery.”
“When you say ‘others,’ just how many are we talking about here?”
“Nobody knows the exact number. It changes almost every day. I’ve heard anywhere from a few hundred thousand to a million, and that’s not accounting for the ones not in hospitals. There could be several more we don’t know about lying comatose in some isolated hovel or remote island somewhere.”
That many? Jae tried to imagine the panic such a large-scale event could cause. “What about fatalities?”
“None that I know of. Every documented case I’ve read about shared the same exact diagnosis: comatose with no sign of injury. Under normal circumstances, we’d have at least one death because the odds demand it, but apparently, these aren’t normal circumstances. Everyone survived, it appears.”
Jae rubbed a hand over his brow. “I don’t know what to make of any of this. It’s . . . overwhelming.”
“A lot of people feel the same way, and because answers aren’t so readily available, there’s been a flood of theories. The most popular ones tend to be religious in nature, characterizing the storm as a precursor to some major event, like the apocalypse.” He chuckled. “And you know what? For a while I believed them. I still do, somewhat, because how else can you describe something so . . . unnatural? We’ve never witnessed anything like this before. I certainly haven’t. Even the storm itself had an almost primordial element to it—chaos in its purest form.” The doctor stood up, folding his papers. “I have to go, as should you, Ms. Ewing. We need to give Mr. Yeon some time alone.” Madeline nodded and moved to the other end of the room to gather up her things. “As I’ve mentioned before, I’d like you to stay for a couple of weeks, just as a precaution. I know you say you feel fine, and for all intents and purposes you appear to be, but we need to make sure you really are.”
Jae nodded. “Reasonable enough.”
The doctor left the room, shutting the door behind him. Madeline came back to his bedside. “I’ll come and visit often.”
Jae took her hand. “Why the rush? Let’s finish what we started.”
She smiled. “Later. Right now, I need to get home and tell everyone the good news.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Once they discharge you, we’ll finish up our business.”
“I’ll be counting down the days.”
Madeline lingered for a few moments more before finally slipping her hand from his grip and moving toward the door, exiting quietly. Jae rested his head back onto his pillow, discomfort plaguing his thoughts. Six months of his life was suddenly gone, snatched away from him by a thief disguised as a lightning bolt, and now it left a gaping void in his existence. Much had happened since then—abrupt changes that made his head spin. He looked out the window, staring at the cold chill crystallizing on the glass. It was summer yesterday, and now it’s winter. It hurt his head thinking about it.
He had so many questions, but no answers presented themselves. He looked to his right and saw a TV remote sitting on a stand next to him. He reached over and picked it up. Maybe the news can tell me something. He pushed the power button and a loud snap resonated, startling him. The remote fell onto his bed in two pieces, the guts exposed in an arrangement of coiled wiring and circuitry. He picked up the shattered pieces off his bed and brought it closer for examination; a clean break at the exact spot where his thumb had applied pressure.
What the hell?
Chapter 2
“Walk toward me in a lunging motion please, right along this straight line.”
The physical therapist stood at the opposite end of the wall, pen and clipboard in hand, long blonde hair pinned in a ponytail over her shoulder. She beckoned Jae forward with a curl of her finger, and observed the task she had assigned. Jae nodded and bent his right knee forward, beginning the task.
“Adam is really here, at this hospital?” Jae asked, looking over his shoulder.
Gabe stood leaning against a counter near the door, arms folded. “Nobody told you?”
“Not a word.”
“Not even Madeline? Or the doctors?”
“I just woke up yesterday. It probably just slipped their minds.”
“Huh, figured they would have said something by now.”
Jae made quick work of the assignment, reaching the end of the painted line with no issues. He stood waiting for further instruction. The therapist took his arms and placed his palms against the wall.
“Let’s try some wall push-ups, nice and steady for about ten reps,” the therapist said. “You may begin once you’re ready.”
He breathed in and pushed himself away from the wall, nice and steady just as the therapist commanded. “I have to keep reminding myself that six months have passed. Feels like yesterday when I pulled him out of that fire,” Jae said, looking at Gabe. “I’m assuming he’s past the worst?” Gabe nodded at the accuracy of his assumption. “How is he doing?”
Gabe breathed out, scratching at his chin. “It’s complicated.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Is it bad?”
Gabe shrugged, and then gave a long sigh. “I don’t know how else to say it, so I’ll just come right out and say it. He was struck by lightning just like you were.”
Jae feigned mock laughter. “Good one, Gabe. You almost got me. Seriously though, how is he?”
“No joke, I’m being serious.”
Jae looked at him and saw no hint of joviality in his face. Gabe’s mouth was set at a slight frown, his brow furrowed in earnestness. “You’re really not joking.”
“Ask the therapist, she’ll tell you.”
Jae peeled away from the wall and turned to look at the therapist. She looked up at him and nodded.
“It was all over the news,” she said. “The burned man who survived a lightning str
ike. I don’t remember his name, but I’m guessing that’s who you’re talking about.”
Jae scrunched his face in confusion. “He was struck while inside the hospital?”
Gabe nodded.
“That’s impossible. This place should be protected against lightning strikes. There’s no way it could have hit him.”
“I was in the room when it happened, so I know what I saw. It came in through the window and struck him, as easy as that.” Gabe picked up a pen, toying with it. “Didn’t come anywhere near me though, strangely enough.”
“When was this?”
“Six months ago, roughly the same time you were zapped.”
Six months ago? Does that mean he was part of the thousands who were hit? A small, dull pain began to form somewhere in the back of Jae’s head, eliciting a groan from his lips. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s fine, and awake,” Gabe said.
“He’s awake?”
“A few days before you, actually, and he’s grumpy as usual. Imagine his surprise when he saw how he looked.”
So, it finally happened. Jae had wanted nothing more than to see Adam draw breath with his own power, and to watch the glimmer of recognition seep into his eyes as he gazed upon the waking world. Jae wanted it more than anything, but now that the moment was reality he was left feeling unsure. In his wish to see Adam awaken, he’d failed to take into account how Adam would actually feel once he saw his missing right arm or the zig-zag of bloodied bandages that covered his blackened skin. Did his body scream at him the moment he gained consciousness? Did the singe of torment stab him from head to toe when he drew his first breath?
The therapist moved away from Jae and went over to a counter on the other end of the room, scribbling on some papers. “I think we can wrap up our session, Mr. Yeon. I don’t think we’ll need to continue any further.”
“Great,” Jae said.
“I have to ask though: are you here for free room and board?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re as normal and healthy as anyone I’ve ever seen. More so, even. You move well, you’re responsive, and you’re flexible. I don’t even know why you’re here. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with you, so I can only surmise that you’re here for free room and board.” She folded up her papers and inserted them into a brief and then made her way to the door. “I’ll recommend that they release you as soon as they can, Mr. Yeon. There’s no point in you being here as far as I’m concerned.”
“I appreciate that,” Jae said.at
The therapist glanced at Gabe and then left. He eyed every second of her exodus.
“Damn, what a nice ass.” Gabe made his way toward the door and opened it to get a peek of her departing derriere. “So impeccable. Is there anything better in this world than the backside of a fine woman?”
“I can’t really think of anything, no,” Jae said.
“So fine,” Gabe said with added relish.
“Listen, I need to ask you something about Adam—did he fall into a coma after he was struck by lightning?”
“You mean he wasn’t in one already?” Gabe closed the door and made his way back to his spot on the counter. “If he wasn’t, then he definitely was after that.”
“So just like me.”
“Just like you and everyone else who was hit. You want to know what’s really weird, though? On the outside, he looks the same—skin all burned up and shit, arm still missing—but his insides tell a different story. Internally, everything has been healed—his organs, his broken bones, even his spine. Everything was put back together just as the way it was before. Doctors are confident he’ll walk again.”
“What’s so strange about that? That’s great news.”
“It’s strange because all his internal healing occurred without intervention. Aside from skin grafts, no other surgery was performed. There’s no way his spine could have healed without assistance. Spines don’t just fix themselves on a whim.”
“Well, if not surgery, then what?”
Gabe pulled up a chair next to Jae and sat in it. “Let’s narrow down the possibilities. If he hasn’t gone under the knife yet, then what could have happened that gave him this miraculous turnaround?”
It didn’t take Jae long to come to a conclusion, as there was only one other thing that could have happened. He almost didn’t want to say it. It seemed too farfetched. “The lightning strike.”
“Bingo.”
“That makes zero sense.”
“It does if you think about. Here, consider the facts: you have a storm large enough to cover the entire world, and you have thousands, if not millions, of people who get struck by lightning, and yet somehow during this whole ordeal, there’s not one single fatality. When you take that all that into consideration, does it really sound all that implausible to think that the lightning strike may have healed Adam?”
“But how is the question. Last I checked, lightning doesn’t fix bones.”
“It’s why I’m starting to think these crazies have the right idea when they attribute the storm to an act of God. How else can you explain any of this shit? There’s definitely something supernatural about all of this.”
“But the strike didn’t heal Adam all the way. You said only his insides were healed, not his flesh or his missing arm. Why would God stop midway? Why not completely heal him?”
Gabe contemplated the remark. “God’s not perfect? Or maybe it’s some kind of test? I don’t know.”
“There has to be a logical explanation for all of this.” Or was there? Perhaps Gabe was right, maybe this was something beyond mere human understanding. Maybe there really was something larger at play here, something they had no hope of comprehending.
“I want to speak with Adam,” Jae said.
“No, forget it. He’s in no mood to see visitors. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when he saw me, so I can’t imagine what his reaction would be like if he saw you.”
“You’ve already talked with him?”
“Big mistake on my part. I wish I hadn’t.”
“What room is he in?”
“Leave it alone, Jae. Trust me when I say he won’t be happy.”
“I just want to talk. That’s all. Plus, there might be something he could tell us about the storm.”
“What would he know? He was in a coma just like you were. He’s clueless.”
“If not that, then I just want to clear the air. Let him know how remorseful I feel about how everything went down.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea. Let sleeping dogs lie. Now is not the time.”
“If I can’t speak to him now, then when? Tomorrow? Next month? Next year? You know how Adam can be. He’s the type of man to hold grudges, and the last thing I want is his anger to fester. Let me at least try and shear some of that hate away.” Jae went over to the door. “I’m not going to run from this. If you won’t take me to him, then I’ll find his room on my own.”
Gabe sighed. “Fuck, twist my arm, why don’t you? Fine, I guess it can’t be helped. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter 3
Boots and sneakers clomped on marble tile in steady unison, echoing off the walls in loud staccatos. Lights hollowed into the ceiling kissed the ground underneath their feet, showing the way down this narrow, sterile hall. Six months ago, I was in this exact same spot, making my first visit to Adam, Jae thought. But now, the circumstances are different, despite the similarities. Feels like just yesterday when I saw him.
He looked up and noticed that the burn ward seemed busier than usual. A steady stream of doctors and nurses passed by from all directions. Some of them ran past in frantic blurs, while others took their sweet time going where they needed to go. Many of the nurses had small children attached to them. Some of the children walked hand-in-hand with their caretaker, while others were bound by wheelchairs. The children, as expected, looked haggard and frail, hospital gowns hanging loosely over their bodies. Many wore fire-borne scars
on their faces. Though sickly little things, they appeared to be in high spirits despite the circumstances, with smiles on their faces and laughter in their belly.
A little girl, who couldn’t have been any older than seven or eight, approached from the other end of the hall, holding hands with a rosy-cheeked nurse with curly brown hair. She moved slowly and with obvious pain, lips twitching into a slight grimace as she shuffled forward. She looked more corpse than human, with significant amounts of her body covered in bandages and burn scars. But as they crossed paths with Jae, the girl looked up with eyes big and curious, studying his stature. After a moment, she waved at him and grinned, showing off her gap-toothed smile. The greeting took him by surprise. She had every reason to curse his good fortune while lamenting the lack of her own; instead, she greeted him like he was a friend, her positivity in stark contrast to the wounds she bore. What an amazing kid. He reciprocated her greeting with a hearty wave of his own, smiling the widest smile he could muster.
When the girl vanished at the turn of a corner, whatever good feelings he felt went with her. Melancholy rushed in to fill the void. The girl, while looking happy as could be, was a frightful reminder of the reality he was up against. Adam was a grown man in pain, debilitated by injuries that were no fault of his own, possessing a far more cynical outlook than the girl. He would greet Jae not with a smile but most likely with a furious tongue lashing. It was a punishment—deserved or not—that Jae had no choice but to endure.
“Thanks for letting us see him,” he said to the nurse leading their group.
“Anything for our boys in red,” she said.
“Is he still acting like a sour puss?” Gabe asked.
The nurse frowned. “I’m afraid so. For a man who’s been through so much, he sure does have a lot of energy.”
“Nothing too dramatic, I hope?” Jae asked.
“Well, he did throw a vase at one of our assistants when she tried to change his sheets—luckily, it hit the wall behind her and not her head—and he demeaned one of our residents to the point of tears during a routine checkup,” the nurse said. “But other than that, not really, aside from his usual griping and complaining.”