Choke

by Obert Skye

  I think it’s kind of weird to hear old people swear.

  I lifted my head up more and tried to smile as she ran up to me. I thought she was going to fuss and worry and attempt to help me. Instead she pulled my right arm up and yanked me into sitting position. She then stood up and pushed the call button four times.

  Grown-ups are always contradicting themselves.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  “Bleeding,” I answered honestly.

  Two big male nurses burst through the door. They picked me up and carried me back over to my bed. As they were setting me down, Nurse Agatha was still carrying on.

  “He’s done it for attention,” she ranted. “He’s more trouble than a bus full of apes.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said as one of the nurses began to wipe off my wounds and look me over. “It was the plant.”

  All three of them looked at each other.

  “What plant?” Nurse Agatha asked.

  “The one I thought you stole.”

  Now she really went off. I just closed my eyes and lay there in pain as they cleaned me up. It took almost two hours to get me bandaged and into clean clothes and sheets. In the end I had lost a couple of chunks of hair, had a nice-sized gash on my right leg, and hundreds of scratches varying in depth and length. According to Nurse Agatha I was “probably going to live.”

  They hooked my IV back up and gave me more medicine. The next couple of days were nothing but a blur.

  Illustration from page 3 of The Grim Knot

  CHAPTER 3

  Really White Man

  I can’t understand why people don’t believe me, but for some reason nobody did. I tried to point out how stupid it would be for me to scrape myself up. But, as usual, not a single grown-up took the time to try and understand that. To make matters worse, I now had to stay an extra few days for observation. Of course, “observation” meant leaving me all alone in the large hospital hall. Someone brought me food three times a day and someone picked up my tray when I was finished, but that was about it.

  There was one day when they brought a young kid in and put him in a bed three beds down from me. But the kid only stayed a few hours and he coughed the whole time so we never really had a meaningful conversation.

  According to Nurse Agatha, Thomas had come by to visit me, but I was sleeping and they had decided not to wake me up. I was pretty mad about that, seeing how I could have really used the company.

  By my eleventh day in the hospital, I was so stir crazy I began having conversations with the squirrels that occasionally ran across the glass roof and played in the large pine trees that were surrounding the hospital.

  I was way too bored.

  I read one of the magazines Nurse Agatha had given me for the third time and tossed it down. The hospital didn’t have any good magazines. I mean, me reading Woman’s World once was embarrassing enough, reading it three times was just plain sad. Besides the lighting in the hospital wing was so bad it was hard to read. The glass ceiling let in almost no light, thanks to the thick gray clouds resting on it. I lay back in bed, sighed, and closed my eyes. When I opened them next, a man was sitting next to me on my right side. I screamed in a way that was unbecoming of any boy no matter how old he was.

  The man put his right hand over my mouth as he held his left pointer finger up to his lips and shushed me.

  “Quiet,” he insisted. “They’ll hear you.”

  That was the point. I thought I’d be happy to see anyone, but this man made me uneasy. The lack of light in the room made him look like a shadow. He removed his hand slowly and tried to smile. His smile reminded me of a cracker. As he turned up the sides of his mouth, dry bits of white, dry skin drifted off his old lips. He had on a brown robe with the hood hanging low over his head, covering the top of his eyes. I could only see the bottom of his green wire glasses. Despite the odd robe, the most obvious thing about this man was that he was white, and I mean really, really white. There was no mistaking him for anything but. His hands and chin were so pale they practically glowed in the low light.

  “Who . . . ?”

  He shushed me again.

  “What’s that smell?” I wasn’t very obedient. I had been shushed, but I was still talking. I couldn’t help it; the hall was suddenly filled with a bad odor. “Is that you?”

  “That’s not important,” he insisted.

  “I think it is,” I said waving my hand in front of my nose.

  “What happened to your face and arms?” he asked as if confused. “I checked in on you a few days ago and you weren’t all cut up.”

  “I cut myself shaving.”

  Apparently, he believed that because he didn’t question me further. He did talk, however. “Listen, I need your help,” he said quietly, his pale cracker-looking lips crumbling even more.

  “I don’t . . .”

  “Quiet,” he snapped. “The stone—where is it?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked honestly.

  The old man glanced around nervously. He looked up at the glass ceiling and then tilted his head as if listening to the soft rain that was falling. I wanted him to move so I could see him better, but he sat still. “You were there,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “You were there,” he whispered. “When the last dragon vanished.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Where’s the stone?”

  “What?”

  “Where’s the stone?” he snapped while grabbing me by my hospital gown. “I need the stone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted.

  “There had to be a stone,” he rasped. “From the last dragon. Who’s tending it?”

  “It’s gone,” I said strongly.

  “Gone?”

  “I destroyed it.”

  His cracker mouth crumbled as he ground his teeth. “Don’t lie to me. I must have that stone.”

  “I have no idea who you are,” I said sitting up. “Nurse!”

  My voice echoed down the long hall and was then drowned out by the gentle rain.

  “Quiet,” he growled. “Where’s the stone?”

  “I told you. I destroyed it. Who are you anyway?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “Nurse!”

  “Quiet,” he said, putting his hand back over my mouth and trying to sound a little more friendly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  I bit his hand letting him know that I was there to hurt him.

  “Ooow,” he cried, his hand snapping back. He jumped up and pulled a long sword from his side. “Do you think this is a joke? The soil will turn on you.”

  With the sword and the cape he looked a lot like a pale extra in a poorly funded fantasy film.

  “What about the soil?” I asked, thinking back to the crazy plant and some of the things trees had been doing to me.

  “It will . . .” he started to say.

  I was kind of interested in what he was going to say next, but I didn’t get a chance to find out because at that moment Thomas came through the doors at the end of the hall. He was holding a large brown paper bag and frowning. I looked back at the man with the sword and he was gone, but his smell was still there.

  Thomas stepped down the hall and up to my bed. He set the paper bag on the end of my bed and smiled weakly.

  “How’s our little delinquent?”

  I liked Thomas. He was stuffy and lovable. He always reminded me of someone who had traveled from the past and was now stuck here trying to fit in. He had thin shoulders and walked with a crooked gait. His nose was bulbous and jiggled like a water drop whenever he shook his head. He was usually wearing a felt cap and vest and sometimes had a cane that he didn’t need, but which made him feel dignified. He currently had the cap and vest with him, but no cane.

  “Did you see him?” I asked.

  “See who?” Thomas questioned, looking around as if it were an assignment.

/>   “There was a guy in a cloak—really white. Can’t you smell him?”

  Thomas sniffed the air in the most respectable manner and shrugged. He began to pull things out of the paper bag, not paying much attention to me. “It’s hard to see anything too clearly here in this hall. I’m sure it was just one of the nurses. Now, I’ve brought you a few things to keep you entertained.”

  “Finally,” I said with excitement.

  He handed me a little tiny book that when you flipped the pages showed a stick figure wearing a top hat and jumping over a short fence. He had also brought a small chalkboard with a single white piece of chalk.

  “Where do you shop?” I asked in disbelief.

  Thomas just stared at me.

  “Thanks,” I smiled.

  “Oh yes,” Thomas added. “Wane thought you might want your dictionary.” Thomas handed me my small yellow dictionary. I had gotten it shortly after I had arrived in Kingsplot. I had wanted to look up the meaning of Wane’s name. Since then I had been trying to slip cooler words into my vocabulary.

  “I’m beholden to you,” I said, using a word that actually wasn’t that cool. “Do you have any idea when I can get out of here?”

  “They want to keep you a few more days.”

  “I feel fine,” I complained. “I need to get out.”

  “I think you’d better stay put,” Thomas said. “There are many who think you should be locked up, seeing how you continue to tear apart Kingsplot.”

  “It was an accident,” I insisted. “I thought it was just a big ball.”

  “A ball? It was one of the old weather balloons,” Thomas said. “In the olden days they used to float them up to experiment with the weather. I thought they were all gone. You should have just left it alone.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re a magnet for mischief.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I apologized.

  “I’m certain you are,” Thomas halfway smiled.

  “So, aren’t you going to ask me about all my scratches?”

  “The hospital informed us about the details of your stunt.”

  “Stunt?”

  “Although in all honesty,” Thomas went on, “I’d say you were the last person who needed more attention.”

  “I didn’t do anything for attention,” I complained. “I was attacked by a plant.”

  “Yes, yes, the nurse told me,” he said kindly. “Attacked by a plant, picked on by a shed.”

  “I never said the shed at Callowbrow was picking on me,” I pointed out. “I just thought it was a big ball that we would be able to play with. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

  “That’s enough,” Thomas insisted. “Millie and Wane miss you.”

  “Yeah, I can tell by their constant visits.”

  “The manor keeps them busy.”

  “Of course. What about my dad?”

  “He hasn’t been down from the dome in quite a while,” Thomas said sadly. “He was happy to hear you were okay.”

  “And Kate?”

  “I don’t know much about her business,” Thomas said. “Millie did say she was hospitalized and released after a couple of days.”

  “And she hasn’t come to visit me?”

  Thomas patted me on the head, “The weather has been considerably wet.”

  “It’s always wet,” I complained.

  “True enough,” he said, trying to smile. “Wane will pick you up as soon as you’re free to come home.”

  “Have you heard anything from Wyatt?” I asked.

  “He’s called a few times asking when you’ll be home.”

  “When will I be home?”

  “Hard to say.”

  Thomas patted me on the head again and left. I spent the rest of the afternoon with my flip book watching a little stick figure jump over a fence and worrying about Mr. Dry Mouth while wondering about the last stone. I wasn’t completely sure that I hadn’t just imagined the whole thing.

  I was about to try to fall asleep when I got my third visitor of the day. The double doors swung open and a tall guy with a dark goatee and blue hoodie stepped into the hospital hall. He was thin, and his jeans were cuffed. He was displaying the type of smile you might see in a used-car salesmen’s museum, and he was carrying a small stuffed animal.

  I recognized him instantly and groaned.

  His name was Van and he was a reporter for some newspaper far away. Ever since the pillage, he had been popping up in my life trying to get me to tell him more. He treated me like a little kid and spoke to me as if him saying the right thing might open me up and make me spill the beans. I hadn’t seen him for some while.

  “Beck,” he said cheerfully. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I answered, bothered.

  “The correct answer is you’re doing great,” he said, grinning.

  I hate it when people tell me how I am doing. “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “Nice to see you too,” he smiled. “I brought you something.” He handed me the small stuffed koala. “I thought it might keep you company.”

  “Thanks,” I said, embarrassed. “I can’t wait to introduce him to all my other stuffed animals at home.”

  “His name is Binkers,” Van informed me.

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Binkers,” he added.

  “I thought you had left Kingsplot,” I said.

  “I had, but then a friend of mine told me you had been causing more trouble, and I thought I’d come check it out.”

  “You came all the way back just for that?”

  “Well, I had to see how my little buddy was doing.”

  I looked around wondering whom he was talking about. The last thing I was was Van’s little buddy. He had written an article on my family that was far from flattering, and he was constantly trying to trick me into giving him more damaging information.

  “Tell me, champ,” he continued. “What happened?”

  “I’m sure you’ve read the papers.”

  “I have, but there always seems to be more to you than the papers print,” Van said.

  “Well, if you think it had anything to do with dragons you’re way off,” I told him. “It was just me being careless.”

  “Dragons?” Van said in mock surprise. “I never said a thing about dragons, but now that you mention it . . .”

  “That’s so yesterday,” I waved. “I’m sure most people have forgotten by now.”

  “Funny,” Van said. “I still remember.”

  “Maybe you’re special.”

  Van smiled. “The nurse said you cut yourself up.”

  I looked at the scratches on my arms. “Yeah, I fell.”

  “She said you told her a plant attacked you.”

  “Didn’t she sign some sort of confidentiality thing to become a nurse? Why is she telling you anything about me?”

  Van ignored my comment. “If my memory is correct, I think there were plants involved with the dragons.”

  “I can’t remember,” I said, not wanting to tell him a thing about the plant. “My memories are not as correct as yours.”

  “Oh, I think they are,” he said slickly.

  His face looked so dumb when he was trying to be smooth. He would sort of purse his lips together, making his chin look pointier and his goatee longer. His cheeks would push up toward his eyes, which rolled to the left just enough to make him look crazy.

  “Listen, buddy,” he whispered. “I’m not your enemy. I’m your friend. I just want to do your family justice. If we work together, we can make something positive out of this. Where’d you get the scratches?”

  “I fell.”

  Van closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. His eyelids sprang open and he stared directly at me. “You get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

  “I’d rather not,” I said nicely.

  “Rest is important,” he insisted.

  I was going to tell him I had nothing against rest and that what I meant was that I wasn�
�t going to talk to him later, but I didn’t want him hanging around any longer. He stood up and patted me on the head.

  “I’m here for you,” he said.

  “I don’t want you to be,” I told him.

  “You’ll feel better with some rest,” he said smiling.

  He was telling me how I felt again.

  “Enjoy Mr. Binkers,” he added.

  “As soon as you leave I’m going to hug him,” I said.

  Van turned, oblivious to the sarcasm. He walked down the hospital hall and out the double doors. I looked at the koala and wondered why Van couldn’t have brought me a PSP or a laptop instead. I also wondered why most of my visitors were older people.

  I fell asleep thinking about dragons, eucalyptus trees, and Kate.

  Illustration from page 6 of The Grim Knot

  CHAPTER 4

  I’m Going Slightly Mad

  The next day came and went with no sign of anyone I really cared about. Nurse Agatha came in a couple of times, but she was little comfort seeing how all she did was berate me. She called me a ruffian the first time and a ne’er-do-well the second time. I kind of liked the odd words she used. I told her I liked her hat. She told me to hold my tongue. When I literally did as she asked, she pinched my cheek and called me a twit.

  She looked at me until I was self-conscious and then sniffed, “Once a Pillage, always a Pillage.”

  “If you and I ever get married, I’ll go by Agatha,” I suggested.

  “Disrespect,” she snipped. “Your wit will burn you someday.”

  I wanted to tell her about all the times my wit had already burned me or caused me problems, but she walked off and left me alone again.

  It had been almost six days since the plant had jumped me. A number of my scratches had healed leaving only the deeper ones visible. They too were beginning to fade. My brain was going numb from being kept locked up in the stupid hospital. Wyatt had called me once and we had talked on the phone for about an hour. I thought back to our first bad encounter and how he had turned into a great friend. He claimed he wanted to come visit me but that his parents would never bring him. When I reminded him that he had a driver’s license and his own car, he confessed to being scared to death of hospitals and since I was going to live, he would just wait to visit me when I wasn’t in one. I couldn’t totally blame him. I wasn’t that fond of hospitals either.