by May, W. J.
He took any hint of her he’d kept around as a memento and began tossing them in a box. It took all his strength to dump the box in the garbage outside and dart back in before he could change his mind. Stepping back into his apartment, he went straight into the bedroom and stopped short. Should he throw the picture of Ithaca Falls out?
Sighing, he shut the light off and closed the door. He just wouldn’t go in the room until he was ready. It wasn’t like he needed to go in there. He grabbed his cell off the coffee table and sent a text to Coty, telling him he’d meet up. The sudden urge to get out of the apartment made him willing to set foot on campus.
It was a mistake.
He ended up at the Rum Jungle with Coty, Reece, and a large group of freshmen girls. Everywhere his eyes travelled, he kept seeing reminders of Aurora; a girl with wavy blonde hair, a pitcher of margaritas in the crowd, even in a group of girls on the dance floor. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He left Coty and Reece just before last call, wandering the streets and finally ending up by Ithaca Falls. It was no longer the thinking place it had once been. He hated it. He hated the bridge he crossed to get there. Where Aurora and he shared their first kiss. A dam broke open and more memories came flooding back.
Erebus could feel dawn approaching. His skin began to crawl, and anxiety piled on top of the memories drowning him. He loved her, needed her, and missed her. He didn’t want immortality—he never had. Destiny had made a mistake in choosing him as a Shadow. He just wanted it to end, more than he wanted anything in his life.
He tried to stay at the bank of the falls and let dawn give him the closure and darkness he sought. Instinct carried him away, and he ended up walking the streets. He refused to let his legs break into a run, even as his body begged his brain to find a phone booth and stop the madness inside of him.
Dawn was seconds away. He rejected his body’s call for help. No longer able to think clearly, or see properly, he thought he saw a pay phone a few feet in front of him. Half mad, he clung to a lamppost to stop his body from pulling itself to the booth. He laughed deliriously when he saw shadows, like fingers, creep towards him on the sidewalk, ready to swallow him up.
His hands loosened their death grip on the pole, and he stumbled backwards, losing his footing. He felt the darkness that had begun to seep into the edges of his mind begin to take over everything. As his head hit the pavement, he thought he heard an explosion, like a bomb, erupt close by. Just before he passed out, he felt sunlight on his face, and he smiled. It felt like an angel caressing his cheek.
Chapter 11
Goodbye
Darkness surrounded him, but he could hear noise. Beeps, clicks, hums, and moans echoed inside his head. He tried not to move. This wasn’t some nightmare, or a dream of any kind. He knew if he twitched or even shifted slightly, his entire body would scream out in pain. He’d never known physical pain but now had a new respect for humankind. Impossible. He smirked. The smile hurt, but the realization allowed him to tolerate the soreness.
Had the Night Council done something to him? What had happened? He tried to piece his last moments of consciousness together. A small, pleading hope entered his thoughts. Could he have somehow become real? A living, breathing, possibly dying, mortal?
The dying thought made him pause. Lying on his side, he slowly cracked his eyes open. In the semi-darkness, it was impossible to tell if it was early morning or the start of nightfall. He couldn’t tell and didn’t really care. Forcing himself to sit, he sucked in a sharp breath and bit back a groan. Gingerly, he reached for the floor, grabbing a thin pole beside his bed. The pole nearly sent him flying. The darn thing had wheels. He glared at it and saw it held a drip bag which was connected to his arm. The metal felt cool in his grasp as he dragged it across the room and stumbled into the bathroom. A small, dismal light shone in the room, without touching a switch. It took two unsteady steps to reach the porcelain sink he now held onto tightly. He looked in the mirror above. If he didn’t hurt so much, he’d have laughed at the face looking back at him.
Stitches lined his right cheek. He’d cut his lip, and both eyes showed spots of black and blue. It looked like he’d gotten into a fight with the exploding telephone booth and lost miserably. However, it wasn’t that his face was comical; it was his hair. His always perfectly-styled hair had major bed-head. Clumps stuck out in every direction, flattened in places it had always been straight. What in the world was happening? Could this be some kind of dream or fantasy before waking? If felt so real. He shifted, and inhaled a long deep breath. Pain shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. The familiar feeling of slipping away in darkness scared him. He had little time to consider it, as unconsciousness erased all his thoughts.
Darkness seemed to cling to his body. He thrashed and tried to break free. Voices he felt should be familiar to him sounded foreign. Whatever was happening, he had to be losing his mind. Unless… Unless he pushed forward to the scent of sunshine he could smell. He moved towards it, exhausted and unsure but whatever or whoever he was, he understood that was the ticket to his freedom.
He woke later, not sure how much time had passed, but the room was still in semi-darkness. Refusing to move his head even a bit, he brought a shaky hand to his temple. His head felt like a jackhammer had been pounding it all day. Even breathing created sharp pain. Confused, he tried to think about who he was and what happened to put him where he now lay. Every answer came back blank. He couldn’t remember.
One of his hands had a needle connected to it, taped and padded, with a tube travelling to a bag containing clear liquid. Its quiet drip could barely be heard between another steady beeping noise. His hand dropped to his chest, where he felt more wires, and realized the other slow beep was his heart rate. Glancing towards the window, he caught a glimpse of the last dwindling rays of sunlight. It was beautiful, like he’d never seen it before. He swore his eyes were glazing so he blinked back the strange excess water inside of them.
Confused, he wondered what happened and if he might be in a hospital. It was terrifying and yet, with daylight now dwindling away, he felt oddly comforted.
“Good evening, Aaron.”
He jumped, wincing as he twisted his head towards the door. That guy’s definitely a doctor. Aaron? It seems like it should be my name, but it also feels like part of it’s missing. That doesn’t make sense…Focus, the guy’s talking.
The voice belonged to a clean-shaven, fortyish man in a lab coat, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. The man looked fit and orderly; even his dark curly hair was neatly in place. “Do you remember me?”
Aaron shook his head.
The doctor smiled. He had a confident face and looked quite pleased about something.
“Go—od even—ing.” Aaron’s voice cracked as he tried to talk.
The doctor held his hand up. “You don’t need to try and speak. The nurse just informed me some of your vitals changed, and I came to see if you were awake. I’m sure your throat feels quite dry and unused. You’ve been out for almost six days. Take your time.”
Six days?! Aaron tried to sit up. He groaned as the room swam around him. He fell back onto the pillow and shut his eyes tight, focusing on the stars dancing behind his eyelids.
“Take it easy, young man. You’ve got some bad cuts, a few broken ribs, and one nasty concussion. You’re pretty bruised up, but the good news is you’re going to be fine. I’d like to run some tests later tonight or tomorrow. We’ll see how strong you feel. You’ve been on a liquid diet since we found you.” He pointed to Aaron’s arm. “Still on IV, so if eating seems too exhausting, that’s alright.”
Aaron observed but said nothing. The doctor leaned over and checked his chest with the stethoscope. He stepped around to the foot of the bed and read over the information on a chart, adding some marks of his own.
The doctor kept up his friendly, informative banter. “It seems you’re a bit of a mystery. We know your name only because you said it before you passe
d out. We’ve been unable to get any other information from our records, and you didn’t have much on you. Think you can fill me in?”
He sat, wide-eyed and shocked. It was terrifying, but no matter how hard he tried to come up with something, his mind stayed blank. His breath shortened as he struggled not to panic. “I don’t know…anything,” he whispered.
The doctor patted his arm. “Don’t worry. You’ve just woken up. You took quite a bump to the head. Once most of the swelling subsides, your memory should come back. We know your name is Aaron Buss.” He tilted his head, waiting to see if the name rang a bell. “No? It’s alright. We’re pretty sure this is short-term memory loss. Things will come back. You’re safe here. I’ll get the nurse to bring you some soup. Get lots of rest. It’ll allow your body to heal faster.” He nodded as he turned to go.
“Doctor? What day is it today?”
“It’s Friday, March thirteenth.”
“Thank you.” Aaron didn’t think he was a superstitious guy, but he had the feeling he’d never had much luck with Friday the thirteenth. Exhausted, he closed his eyes. He felt like he had a lifetime of sleep to catch up on.
Later, when he woke in complete darkness, Aaron had the feeling he’d been having a nightmare but couldn’t remember any of it. His chest felt tight, but he used the excuse that the tightly wrapped bandages created the sensation. He dropped his head back on the pillow and let his cheek rest against its coolness. He was startled to see someone sitting in the chair beside his bed. The sudden jolt from shock made his body ache everywhere. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain.
“Do I know you?” He slowly let his lids flutter open and looked at the gentleman sitting quietly in the shadows. The man wore an expensive suit, the grey matching his eyes. His whitish hair styled to perfection.
“No, I don’t think you do any more. My name is Janus.” The older gentleman tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Erebus.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Aaron Buss. I always knew you were different, that you didn’t want to live like the rest of us. I realized this day would eventually come. A part of me is pleased, but a part of me will miss you very much.” He stood and walked towards the bed.
Aaron said nothing. He didn’t know what to say or what the old man was talking about.
“Here is your information. Your birth certificate, social security number, and bank account information. It’s all in the folder. I was more generous with you than with any of the others I’ve ever helped. You deserve that, in my opinion. I’ll put everything in the drawer of the nightstand.” He paused before reaching to pat Aaron’s hand. “Last bits of advice from your old handler: don’t go looking into the past now. Focus on what’s ahead. Have a good life, Aaron Buss. Enjoy every minute of it. Remember this as well: ‘None of us can choose our destiny and none of us can stop it.’ Say that if you ever feel confused.” He let go of his hand and walked out of the room without looking back.
Aaron lay on the bed, dumbfounded. He felt like he should be screaming at the stranger to come back. He didn’t know what to do. He had no idea who the man was, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he’d never see the guy again.
It seemed his only link to the past had just walked out the door.
A few days later, Aaron could finally pull himself into a sitting position. The sun had just risen, and he’d awoken from a pleasant dream. He couldn’t recall the dream, but he knew it must have been a good one. He’d woken up with a smile on his face and angels on his mind.
When he opened his eyes, the cream brick tiles reminded him where he lay. Frustrated he still couldn’t remember anything from before the accident, he pulled hard at the bed sheets, knocking his pillow to the floor.
He swore under his breath, glad none of the nurses had been in yet. They made him uncomfortable with the pity he read in their eyes and their constant care. He wanted out. Taking a deep breath, he pressed one hand against his broken ribs and gingerly leaned forward. After three attempts, he finally managed to get a hold of his pillow with two fingers.
He glanced up, his eyes level with the nightstand, as he jerked the pillow up to the bed. He stared at the stand, noticing a sheet of paper sticking out of the drawer. Curious, he dropped the pillow on his lap and pulled open the drawer.
Inside laid the file and information the old gentleman had dropped off. Aaron couldn’t recall his name, only that he didn’t understand what the man had wanted. He placed the folder on the pillow and opened it. Inside he found his birth certificate, social security card, a bank book, and some more papers.
He opened the bank book and almost dropped it when he saw the single entry. It was a balance inquiry that showed one dollar less than ten thousand dollars. There was also a key and number to a safe deposit box. With shaking hands, he turned to the other papers inside the folder. There was a deed to a studio flat in his name, along with an auction receipt for an old British telephone. The photo on the auction receipt showed one of those old, red enamel painted pay phones, purchased from an auction house in New York City.
What am I going to do with that?
“Good morning, Aaron. You’re up early again today.” A young blonde nurse set a vase of sunflowers on the nightstand beside him. The flowers or the nurse seemed to ring a bell somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put the connection together.
“The guy in the next room left these when he checked out. I thought you might like them. It seemed a shame to throw them out.” The nurse rambled on about the weather and how ready she was for spring to hurry into summer.
Aaron closed the folder and slipped it underneath his pillow. The nurse didn’t even notice. She walked over to the window and opened the blinds. Then she came back and checked his stats. Satisfied, she nipped out the door and brought in a meal tray. She set the tray of food on the dining cart beside Aaron’s bed.
“Enjoy your breakfast.” She left the room.
Aaron could smell the aromas from underneath the metal lids. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled the tray towards him. His mouth watered at the smell of sausage and scrambled eggs. He stabbed a sausage and stuffed it into his mouth.
“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone enjoy hospital food as much as you.” His doctor appeared in the doorway, laughing.
“The food’s great here. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.” Aaron replied between mouthfuls.
“I’m glad someone likes it! Keep eating.” The doctor held up his hand. “I’m just checking in. I’m pleased with your progress physically. I wish your memory would come back. The swelling’s gone down but for some reason, parts of your memory won’t click back. I’ve run you through every CAT scan and test we can. I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you at the moment.”
Aaron watched the doctor. Dr. Apate almost sounded like he was teasing him – like he knew something Aaron didn’t. He didn’t get it but it was probably just him being paranoid. “I’m okay right now, Doc. I’d really like to go home.”
“That’s great, but you, nor I, know where your home is.”
“I’ve got a studio pad on Lake Street.” He couldn’t remember the exact number but had no intention of pulling the folder out in front of the doctor.
“You’re joking?” The doctor’s eyes went wide with surprise. “You remembered that this morning?”
Aaron thought his doctor might start doing cartwheels.
“Yeah. Just woke up and remembered it.” He grinned. A little lying might get him out of the hospital quicker.
“You remember anything else?”
“Uh, yeah, a little bit, actually.” Aaron scratched his head trying to think of something else. “I just purchased an antique pay phone – you know, one of those old red ones from England?”
“A K-One or K-Six?” The doctor laughed when he saw Aaron’s face. “My father emigrated from Britain and owned a pub in Liverpool. He always said he was going to buy one and ship it over here. He wanted one of those old,
red post boxes as well.” He grabbed Aaron’s chart and jotted a few notes. “This is very good. I’m pleased to hear you’re remembering a few things. I’ll come by again this afternoon and run a few last tests. If things continue, you’ll be getting out of here shortly.”
He spent the day memorizing more information from the folder. When the doctor returned during his evening rounds, he questioned Aaron over dinner.
“Remember anything else?”
“A little bit. It’s like I pinned a tiny hole in a water balloon. It hasn’t popped but little bits a water keep streaming out. I know I was born October thirty-first and turned twenty-four on my last birthday. Though I must admit, after the past two weeks, I feel a lot older.” He laughed. It was strange, but he always felt more relaxed when evening rolled around. “Oh, and I wrote down my Social Security Number. I remembered it this afternoon but got paranoid I might forget it. Don’t want you to think I’ll be trying to skip out on my bill.”
The doctor laughed, absently waving a hand. “You’re bills already paid. No worries there.”
“Pardon me?”
“Some anonymous donation, shortly after your accident. You needn’t worry about that. Seems the donation will also cover a new CAT scan machine for the hospital.”
“Who paid it?”
“Don’t know. Someone called in one day, said they’d heard about your accident and wanted to help you out. Be thankful. I sure am! This hospital could use a few more men like that.”
Aaron sat bewildered. He thought about the distinguished gentleman who’d dropped his information off. What had the guy said, “Leave the past alone” or something about not choosing our destiny?
The doctor rose from the chair. “I’ve got to finish my rounds. I’ll be in again tomorrow morning to see how things are going. You’re doing well physically. I don’t see why we won’t be able to release you by Monday or Tuesday. If you’re ready to go home, that is.” He flashed Aaron a sly smile.