Will. Time. Fate.

by Andrew Yake

  “Well, she was right about his diagnosis. Did she say anything to indicate that she was not well?”

  “No.” Ron lowered his head.

  Dr. Andrews turned to the rest of the class. “Did anyone see or hear anything that would explain this?” Everyone just shook their heads and looked confused by the whole situation. Alan never even looked up to meet the doctor’s eyes. His gaze was still fixed on Allison being wheeled out of the room. “Fine, class dismissed. Get someone down here to clean this mess up. I have to go call her father.”

  ******

  I open my eyes and the first moments of consciousness are bracing. I feel the pain in my arm throbbing. There are nurses all around me and the building is moving at a fast pace. I know that I am on a gurney. I am being carted down the hall. I wonder what they are serving for lunch today? I am even surprised at my thought process, but I also realize that I am hungry. My arm feels as if it is on fire. I look over to one of the nurses walking alongside me at a brisk pace. He is cute and has a very serious look about him. I attempt to speak. “What happened?”

  The nurse locks eyes with me. “Hello Allison. My name is Sam. Do you know where you are right now?” Sam starts to shine a light into my eyes as we continue down the hall.

  “Mount Sinai. I was in class. Then I was attacked.” I try to shift so that I can reach for my other arm, but Sam stops me from moving. I strain to see the damage that I have taken, but again Sam gently stops me from moving.

  “You need to stay still. You have a very bad cut on your arm. If the Doc hadn’t been there and acted so quickly, you and I would not be having this conversation.” Sam offers me a soft smile.

  “What are you talking about? Isn’t my arm broken? It was a compound fracture. My bones were being crushed.” I again attempt to see the damage on my arm and I am just as quickly stopped from moving. “There was a man who was pretending to be dead. We were about to cut him open when he attacked me.” My voice sounds high pitched and annoying even to me.

  Sam cocks an eyebrow at me. “I see. Do you remember anything else?” We enter an operating room.

  “No. There was a man. His eyes were milky like a corpse. He was real.” I find that I am annoyed. I realize that they do not believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me either if I were in their place. Someone was setting me up or I was going crazy. Either way I do not like my options. I start to struggle again out of frustration. Again, Sam stops me. I look at him and say with all of the forcefulness that I can muster, “Ask the others. They had to have seen it!”

  We have stopped moving now that we are in the operating room. Sam and others grab hold of the sheet that I am on and hoist me up and onto another table. A nurse with a mask walks over with a breathing mask that has tubes connecting it to gas tanks and places it over my nose and mouth. “I need you to breathe deep and count backwards from 10.” I see several doctors in full operating gowns start to gather in my periphery.

  “You don…” I immediately start feeling the effects of the anesthesia, “under… stand. He wants to ki…” I cannot help it. I start to drift off at this point. My eyes close. My mind is hazy. I hear the doctors talking, but I am unable to respond. My body is a trap that I am unable to escape. I have no control over my muscles, but I can feel them working on me. I feel the pain from them manipulating the insides of my arm. I try to will myself to speak so that they know I am not under. It is of no use. The pain increases. I attempt to will myself to an altered state of consciousness so that I cannot feel them, hear them, hear the suction from the vacuum that is there to clear away the excess blood.

  I am now staring at my own body. I look at the monitors. My heart is still beating and the doctors are being diligent in the efforts to save my life. Interesting. I think this as I continue to look around. I walk to the door and see my father rushing into the room. Concern written all over his face. I want to tell him that it will be alright, but I know he will not hear me. I decide to leave the room. I hear people talking and going about hospital business. I continue walking and decide to go toward the emergency room. The world seems slightly tinged to an odd color. I am totally invisible to the world. It crosses my mind to walk into the doctor’s changing room to see if I can catch Alan changing. This makes me momentarily happy.

  I see another person. A young man walking into the ER holding a provocatively dressed woman. Must be a prostitute. I guess her Jon got a bit rough with her. I look the young man over more closely, at first because I guessed that he is the attacker and that he has had remorse over his actions. Then I realize that he is… shiny? His outline is brighter than the others around him. He is immediately met by the ER staff with a gurney and he starts to give them information. This guy is strong, but stronger than he looks. It is almost as if I can see his muscles through his clothing, like they are hidden somehow from everyone else except for me. As I move closer and attempt to view him and study him with more scrutiny, I see him shift his gaze to me. He tilts his head slightly and seems to be able to see me.

  I hear one of the ER staff ask the young man, “What is her name?”

  He turns his attention back to the people trying to help him. “Hailey. Her name is Hailey.”

  6

  Hospitals smell funny

  The cab ride is relatively quiet, at least inside the cab. There is, of course, the normal hustle and bustle of the streets. My attention is on Hailey. Her breathing is still shallow and rapid. She is not in good shape. I almost wish that I could get out and run faster than the traffic that surrounds us. I just feel like I need to do something. My worlds always seem out of my control and right now I just need something to be in my control.

  I can tell that the cabbie wants to make a call and I am surprised that he has not done so yet. “Hey,” I address the cabbie, “would you call ahead to the hospital to let them know that we are coming. Hell, call the cops if you think it will get us there any faster.”

  The cabbie looks back at me in the rearview mirror and picks up the radio and starts speaking into it. I am not paying attention to him any longer. I know that he will feel absolved of his responsibility now and the pressure that he was probably feeling about being in the car with a lunatic has probably subsided, some. “Hailey,” I say softly as I brush a blood-soaked strand of hair out of her face gently, “you need to stay with me. You still owe me a coffee and have to teach me all about what love is really like.” I tease her because I am nervous for her. Hailey is my friend. I have shared with her things that I have never shared with anyone else. I like her and I don’t want to lose one of the few people that I call friend. My memories of the times we have talked flood back.

  “Hey kid, this ain’t a good place to be. You know that right.” Hailey speaks with the voice of genuine concern, just as most women might do if they were seeing a child where he or she might get hurt.

  “Sorry. I just needed to get out of the house for a bit.” I say in the now foreign innocence of a young teen. My voice starts to crack the way that only puberty can produce. “What’s your name?” I am nervous. This woman is beautiful and the way the street lamps shine off her hair make her seem other worldly.

  “Nice try, but I don’t turn tricks with kids.”

  I am embarrassed and my face becomes flush involuntarily. I want to turn around and run, but decide against it. “I… I…” I stammer. “I didn’t mean it that way.” I try to recover myself. She steps closer to me. Her high-heel patent leather boots glisten in the light. I start to turn my head away unsure of myself, in part due to my age. What can I say. I am your average awkward teenage boy.

  Her hand reaches out and I am suddenly aware that she has noticed the welt on the side of my face. My mother and I had just had a disagreement of sorts about the proper way to do dishes. I believed that they should be done and she disagreed. I start to flinch as the beautiful woman touches my face.

  “Hey kid. I am not going to hurt you. You okay?”

  Her question is plight and genuine. I look up at her. �
��I will be fine. I just don’t want to go home right now.” My eyes plead for her to give me some kind human contact.

  “I bet that shit-head of a father you have will get what he deserves soon enough.” She smiles at me and motions to a stoop and we sit under the glow of the city lights.

  “My father…” it takes me only a moment to realize that she believes that I have an abusive father. “Actually, he isn’t in the picture, but I am sure you are right.” She looks at me as if trying to figure out a puzzle. It makes me uncomfortable to have said even that much to anyone. I am usually better about keeping these things to myself. I quickly study her features and reply, “I guess that your father got what he deserved eh?”

  She smiled at me sweetly. “You’re quick kid.”

  “I’m not a kid. I’m almost 15.” I look down at my shoes.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” She places a hand on my shoulder and I feel the warmth of her hand radiate through my body. I smell her perfume and it reminds me of summers walking through meadows of flowers. “I just…I don’t know… I’ve been there. It won’t always be like this.” I look up at her.

  “My name is Zachariah, but my friends call me Zack.” My eyes lock with hers. I realize that she must be about 18, which is not much older than me. She is beautiful and her face lacks any lines of age.

  She smiles and my world brightens. “My friends call me Cookie. Can you keep a secret Zack?” I nod and she speaks softly so that only I can hear her. “My name is Hailey. Just don’t call me that out here alright.”

  I smile back at her. A car pulls up and she stands and starts to talk with the older man in the car. Then she gets into his car. She looks back for only a moment and her eyes say that we will speak again.

  We did. We had many conversations over the following two years. We started our friendship that night, but it grew so much more over this past year. Now, yes, now I am in love with my best friend the prostitute. I continue to look her over. She continues to bleed from her eye socket. I am willing to bet that she is also bleeding internally. “Hailey, you can get through this. You are strong.” I stroke her face.

  During my reverie, I must have lost track of time. We arrive at the hospital and I open the door. The cabbie gets out and runs around the car to help me out. I appreciate his kindness or possibly his desire to have me vacate his cab as quickly as possible, but I have already exited the cab cradling my friend. I do my best not jostle her head as I walk with purpose toward the hospital entrance. I can feel my arms starting to cramp and burn as I continue to hold her and move in a way that does not unnecessarily cause more harm.

  I enter the hospital. “Excuse me. I need some help over here.” I call out to whomever is listening. My appearance must have been somewhat disturbing, because I see several of the nursing staff jump to attention and grab different things. Out of the corner of my eye I see a young girl, no more than 15 staring at me. I suppose it is because I have a provocatively dressed person bleeding on me at the moment and pay her no attention at first.

  “What happened.” One of the nurses has addressed me.

  “I found her like this behind a trashcan.” I reply. The less medically irrelevant information I give the better for all those involved. “I think someone was beating her up and left her there when I arrived.” I lied. Not a big lie, but one that will cause fewer questions, especially if the police find a person dead or half-alive in that alley where I picked up my friend.

  “Do you know her?” One of the nurses ask me as I place her on the now present gurney.

  “Yes.” I watch as they start to measure Hailey’s vitals. I am momentarily transfixed with the scene before me. I thought about becoming a doctor once and even went to the library and studied as many textbooks on medical science as I could find. I know that I could not afford medical school so I decided to focus on something I have the most access to, computers.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the young girl again. She is stepping closer to me and seems to be studying me more closely. I was wrong. She is not interested in Hailey or judging me for bringing a prostitute into the hospital. She is not judging at all. She is studying me. I start to return the favor and study her. I am struck by the lack of smell. I know it is strange, but I can usually smell people and read a lot into who they are and where they have been. She has no smell. She is simply there. She and I make eye contact for a moment. I can hear that questions are being asked by someone, but it takes me a moment to realize that I am the one being addressed.

  “Sir, do you know her name?” The nurse now flustered with my lack of response has come over to face me squarely and ask her question.

  “Hailey, her name is Hailey.” My eyes scan for the girl that had been there moments before, but she is gone. I return my attention to the woman before me. “She is a friend of mine. I have known her for a few years.” I shift my stance slightly. “Is she going to be alright?” The nurse now looks me up and down suspiciously and motions to a seat near us. I sit. She sits next to me.

  “Are you lying to me about anything?” She looks me in the eye searching for any reaction. I give her none.

  “Hailey is my friend. I care about her. When I saw her on the ground I brought her here.”

  “Why didn’t you call 911?”

  “I don’t have a phone and I wasn’t going to waste time trying to find one. Besides, EMTs don’t seem to be known for helping prostitutes.” I am becoming snarky and defensive now. I know that it is not helpful, but my feelings are starting to get the better of me and I am angry. “The ones that I have met seem to think that ‘hookers’ bring this sort of thing on themselves.” I can feel my face getting flush as I speak now. I work to control my anger. It only takes one look at my friend being wheeled away down the hall to calm myself. I don’t need them being distracted by a raging teenager when they are working to save my friend’s life.

  “Calm down sir. I am just trying to get all of the information that I can to help your friend.” The nurse puts her hands up as if to signify peace and then she stands up. “I am going to need you to stay put for right now. There are going to be a few officers by in a little while and they will want to ask you some questions.” I nod try to sit back and not think of how badly Hailey’s injuries are.

  7

  Jane’s affliction

  Moments of consciousness flash around me. I see lights move past me at an accelerated rate in the moments that I recognize that there is movement. Alive, I am alive. I feel the world spinning and moving. I am weak. I close my eyes again and I feel movement under and around me. I smell the smoke of a cigar. I hear the panting of a dog. I guess that it is Orion and desire to touch his fur, but I am unable to make my body move. This continues for a time. I move from awake to asleep and somewhere in between. I try to grasp at the memories I have forgotten, try to remember what I was just seeing. Aiyanna. Yes, that was it. Who is she to me? Is she real or simply a fever dream?

  I feel the world stop moving and hear a car door. Car, I must be in a car. I know that there is another person there as the door near to my head opens. I try to open my eyes again. We are under ground. I can smell the dank wet air. My best guess is that we are underground. I feel strong hands grab hold of my shoulders and pull me from the back seat of a vehicle. I hear the voice of a man gruff and husky and smell the cigar smoke more potently now as I am hoisted up. “Good boy Orion. Stay here.” The man knows my dog. He must know me. I try to look up at the face of my rescuer. I feel him cradle my broken body with his other arm. The sudden shift in my body placement as he shuts the vehicle door nearly makes me pass out again. Pain floods my senses. I start to cry out, but a hand that had been under my head and shoulders now reaches up and covers my mouth with speed and force. “Shhh. Now is not the time to be all sensitive JJ.” He moves quickly. He does not seem to care if I feel every step. I think about correcting him because of my memory I believe my name is Jane, but I decide against it. My vision blurs due to the pain. “Gonna get you f
ixed up.” The man speaks around the cigar that he still has in his mouth. I bite my lip in hopes that it will keep me from screaming and also to distract myself from the pain that I am in with every move. I feel the dizziness start to overtake me again. I black out.

  I hear doors open and close. The first is a heavy sounding metal doorway. The air is starting to smell cleaner. I am unable to open my eyes, but I know that this man is carrying me with some speed. I feel it as he bounds up the steps while holding me. I smell the smoke coming out of his mouth. In my mind’s eye, it almost seems like he is a freight-train as he moves with tireless energy and billows out smoke all the while. I feel him stop momentarily and spit out the remainder of the cigar. I feel him shift his stance and hear the crunching of a boot over what I imagine is the cigar. I feel him shift his hold again. Pain shoots through me. I wrap my arms around the man’s neck and bite down on my lip harder to keep from screaming. Only a whimper comes out.

  He seems to either not notice or not care. I glance up at his face. He has a darker complexion with stubble over his scarred face. His hair is salt and pepper gray and from what I can tell it is short like a military style haircut and his eyes… his eyes are intense and almost an ice blue. His muscles are tight and I can feel his perspiration under my hands. The exertion of carrying me all this way has actually made him perspire. He may be tired, but he shows no sign of slowing down. I consider asking if he knows me, but decide against it. If he didn’t know me then I am rather sure that Orion would have killed him or died trying. If he did know me and realized I had no memory he may not help me or finish the work of whomever tried to kill me.

  We stopped again at another door. This time he shifts his weight enough for his hand to reach a number pad. I hear the clicking of several buttons and then there is a sound of a lock disengaging. The door opens and we go through into a dimly lit hallway. This is inside of some building. The smell of bleach and disinfectant is in the air. Hospital? It was my best guess and if this man was trying to help me then it would make sense that he would bring me to a medical facility. He slows his pace only slightly as we move down the hall. He takes an abrupt left and then a right and comes to a large room with stairs and lots of seats. A classroom. He wants to what… study me? I shift my gaze around the room and can see that it is not just any classroom. There are medical tools and a table at the front of the classroom. That seems to be where he is taking me. He plops me onto the table with the kindness of bat hitting a baseball. The pain is so much that the air is taken from my lungs. I feel myself starting to vomit.