by Jason Brant
Raucous laughter pulled Lance out of the fog.
His head pounded as he struggled to open heavy eyelids.
More chuckling.
Bright overhead lights hurt his eyes as they adjusted, shapes taking form around him. White paint covered everything except the television in the corner of the room and the pants and shoes elevated on his bed.
Friends played on the TV, the audience roaring every few seconds.
Lance followed the legs and groaned when he saw Don sitting beside him. He slouched in a seat beside the bed, his legs propped on Lance’s sheets, a small bag of Cheetos resting in his lap. He laughed almost as much as the audience did.
One at a time, Lance wriggled his fingers and toes, making sure he felt every sensation.
“Thank God,” he whispered.
“You’re awake!” Don retracted his legs so quickly that the half-empty bag of Cheetos spilled on his fancy suit. “Damn it.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“You’ve been in and out for a while. We spoke a couple of times too, but I’m guessing you don’t remember that,” Don said, brushing cheese powder from his chest. “Christ, what a mess.”
Lance pushed himself to a seated position with a herculean effort. “I feel like I was run over by a car.”
Don gaped at him. “You were run over, buddy.”
“I was being ironical.”
“Oh. Funny guy.”
“You’ve been here with me the entire time?”
“Yup. I was starting to get seriously bored too.”
Lance thought that his first impression of Don truly had been wrong. He definitely wasn’t the giant ass that he originally thought. The guy didn’t need to wait bedside for someone he hadn’t seen in over a decade.
“Thanks, Don. Really. I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I could do. Honestly, I feel pretty guilty because I was just about to leave you there to deal with that woman alone.” The tie around Don’s neck was loosened, hanging a few inches below his collar, the top button of his shirt undone.
“What happened to the sick woman?”
“No idea.”
“Did she get hit by a car too?”
“Nope—you pushed her clear. Crazy ass kept on walking as if nothing happened.”
Lance moved to throw the sheet covering his torso off, but stopped when he felt the ache in his side. “Damn, my ribs are sore. Did they pick up the woman? Is she in the hospital?”
“I think so. I’ve been sitting here the whole time though, not checking on her.”
Lance wondered if he could find out what was wrong with her later. Doctors weren’t allowed to discuss patient’s information with other people, but he hoped he could do some sneaky eavesdropping. Even now, as pain reverberated up and down his body, he couldn’t help but speculate about her condition.
She looked like death walking around Pittsburgh.
Don glanced at his watch. Looked like a Rolex. “Well, buddy, I better be going.”
Fighting through the stiffness in his side, Lance swung his legs over the side of the bed so he could face Don. He stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Don. Keep in touch, will ya?”
Don hesitated a moment before finishing the handshake. “You’re welcome. Sorry again.”
“It’s no big deal. Stop apologizing for something that didn’t even happen.” Lance didn’t understand why he felt so sorry over something of such low consequence.
“Well, I—”
“Hi, Lance.”
Liz stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the bright lights of the hall. She stepped inside, her gait tense and stilted.
“What are you doing here?” Lance asked. “That came out harsh. I’m just surprised to see you.”
“I’m still listed as your emergency contact.”
“Oh.” It had never occurred to Lance to change that. Going through a divorce was hard enough without dealing with little details like that. He raged at himself for not making the adjustment. Now he’d have to argue with her while saddled in bed with an achy body.
Don’s head swiveled back and forth between the splitting couple. “Guess I should skedaddle. See ya, buddy.” He walked past Liz and they shared a glance. “Nice seeing you, Liz.”
“You too, Don.” She stepped further into the room after Don cleared the doorway, dropping her purse into the chair. She wore jeans and a tank top that showed off her well-maintained body. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, rather than laying against her shoulders as usual. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a car.”
Liz stared at him. “That’s not funny.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting to cut through the tension with a little joke.”
“There’s nothing to joke about.”
Lance sighed. He could vaguely remember a time when she found him funny. It was one of the few personality traits he had that people found endearing. He’d given up on humor somewhere between being lonely and depressed. Why it decided to make a comeback lately, he didn’t know.
Just to piss her off probably.
This conversation felt like so many others they had over the past few years. Round and round they went. After a bout of condescension, Liz would move to anger and then shaming. Lance would then crack wise and blow her off, all while feeling terrible about himself.
“OK, fine. I hurt too much to argue right now.”
“Care to tell me how you were hit by a car?” Liz crossed her arms over her chest. Lance knew right away that she’d already shut herself off to him. Crossed arms were her tell, always had been.
“Someone told me to play in traffic. People have been telling me that my whole life, so I figured why not try it just this once. Turns out it isn’t so much fun.”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”
“Why do you have to interrogate me after I just saved a woman’s life? Or I at least saved her from the pain I’m in right now.” Lance really didn’t want to argue with her, but she had an uncanny ability to get his dander up. If she were a member of the X-Men, her power would be chapping his ass.
Liz glowered at him, not speaking for a while. A staring match commenced, like two children trying to see who would blink first. Lance always lost these and this time would be no exception.
“Are you finished?” Liz asked finally.
Lance stayed silent, his anger building. If something didn’t change in the next few seconds, an all-out screaming match would commence.
“Good,” she said. “Now, what do you mean you saved a woman’s life?”
“A sick woman almost got ran over, so I jumped into the street and pushed her out of the way.”
Her face softened as she took in what he said, frown easing, eyes rounding. “A sick woman?”
“Yeah. Delusional or drugged out—something like that. Doesn’t matter anyway.”
“If you say so.”
“Look, I can handle it from here on out. There’s no reason for you to hang around. Thanks for coming though. I really do appreciate it.”
Liz moved her purse from the chair to the floor and sat down, ignoring Lance’s invitation to leave. “How did the interview go?”
“Christ, Liz.” Lance eased back into the bed. “Why do you do this to me?”
“It went that well, huh?”
Lance’s mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to decide the best way to respond. His inability to hold a job over the past few years was a huge point of contention between them. The more he tried to find employment, the worse it seemed to go for him. And that only pissed off Liz even more.
She’d grown up much wealthier than Lance. Her father owned a construction company out of Philadelphia and her mother held a corporate job with the Eagles. Neither of her parents were enthusiastic about Lance seeing their daughter, and they almost went nuclear when he announced his intentions to propose.
They knew, even then, that Lance would never acquire the kind of lif
estyle that Liz and her parents were accustomed to. The fight between the three of them the day of the wedding was brutal and the fallout remained. They saw her parents on the holidays and talked on the phone every once in a while, but an enormous emotional chasm lay between them.
When Lance lost his first job due to corporate downsizing, it planted the seeds of their marital downfall. He’d promised to take care of Liz financially and emotionally and he failed at both. Losing most of his confidence after a second layoff blunted their relationship, to say the least.
Though she’d remained patient with him through the turmoil of his career, Liz struggled with the new shape of their marriage. As much as Lance doubted himself nowadays, he knew that she had lost even more faith in him.
The shame that accompanied that feeling only worsened the downward spiral. She once saw him as an achiever and a hero for having paid his way through college, but now she looked at him like an anchor hanging around her neck. In all honesty, he couldn’t blame her for seeing things that way.
The never-ending cycle of joblessness and the accompanying emasculation put Lance in a funk that he forever struggled to climb out of.
Divorce proceedings started almost a year ago.
Lance couldn’t prove it, but he was almost convinced that she’d been seeing someone else on the side for the better part of six months. Maybe longer. He just had that feeling sometimes when the phone rang, or if she stayed out late with friends.
“They’re looking for programmers, not old hats like me. Same as everyone else.” Lance ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the lump he found on the crown of his head.
“I told you to go back to school or get a certification or something, but you never did listen to anything I said.”
“Go back to school with what fucking money? We’re broke, remember?”
A doctor jogged past the open door, a stethoscope bouncing against his chest.
“You’re broke. I’m doing just fine.” Liz’s tone grew angrier by the second. Lance knew they’d be at DEFCON 1 within a minute or two.
“Using your father’s money to buy food doesn’t constitute doing just fine. Listen, I have a helluva headache right now. Can we save this for later?”
“Everything is always later with you.”
He grunted. “Did the doctor’s tell you about what happened to me? Is anything broke or punctured?”
She lifted her purse from the floor and stood up, putting the strap over her shoulder. “Just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing major considering what happened.”
“Good. The last thing I need is a large medical bill.” Lance’s insurance lapsed several months ago and he wasn’t sure how he would pay for the minor hospital stay he’d already had.
She turned to the door before stopping and looking back at him. “Please take me off any other lists that I might be on. Insurance, loans, whatever.”
“I will.”
“Bye, Lance.”
“Hey, Liz? Thanks for coming. Really. I know you didn’t have to.”
She stood at the doorway, watching him for a moment, her eyes unforgiving. “You’re welcome.”
Two more doctors ran by the door.
Shouts came from down the hall.
Lance sat up again, trying to see around Liz. “What’s going on out there?”
She stuck her head through the open doorway, peering to the left. “I’m not sure. Looks like there’s some kind of fight going on down there.”
Lance eased off the bed, feeling the cool floor on his bare feet. A shiver ran up his body, sending a wave of pain through his sore left side. He gritted his teeth and shuffled across the room, dragging an I.V. stand behind, careful not to touch Liz as he peeked over her shoulder.
A large group of people encircled an area by the nurse’s station, watching as several doctors struggled to get two screaming patients to calm down. Lance recognized one of the patients immediately—the sick woman from the street. Even as he stood more than fifty feet away, he could see that her situation had deteriorated even further.
“Jesus,” Lance said. “That’s the woman I pushed out of the street.”
“The blonde?”
“Yeah. She was more comatose then though. I couldn’t even get her to acknowledge me, let alone struggle like that.”
Three security guards ran past them, shouting for everyone to stay in their rooms. Lance watched as they pushed through the spectators and grabbed hold of the woman, finally pulling her to the ground. Another man, his appearance shockingly similar to the ill woman, also fought against the doctors and guards.
“I don’t like the look of this.” Lance grabbed the I.V. and tore it out of his arm, tossing it back into the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the hell out of here,” Lance said as he searched around the bed for his clothing, not finding them.
“You aren’t making any sense. Maybe you should lie back down.” Liz stood in the doorway, feet spread, blocking the way out. “Some sleep might clear your head.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be trying to leave the hospital in your condition.”
“Listen to me, there is something really wrong with that woman. You should see her close up. Veins are visible all over her face and her hair and skin are… thin.”
“She’s obviously a drug addict—they all look like shit.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I think she has some kind of disease or flu or something. I mean, look at the other guy down there. He has it too. If this is infectious, then I sure as hell don’t want to be around here any more than I have to.”
Liz leaned back and looked down the hallway again. “Infectious?”
Lance knew he had her full attention then. Liz was one of those people who hated being sick so much that she would pretend to be fine, even when she had food poisoning. She refused to go anywhere near someone she thought might have a cold. It was one of those personality quirks that Lance found endearing during the early stages of their relationship and annoying later on.
“Well, if two of them have it, then yeah, I’d say it’s contagious.” Lance didn’t know if anything he said was true or not, but he didn’t want to risk it. If there was even the remotest chance he could catch what that woman had, he needed to get the hell out of Dodge. Sadly, it wasn’t just the thought of looking like her that worried him—he knew he couldn’t handle the medical costs that would come with it.
Liz stood at the door, frowning. “I don’t know. I still think you should probably stay here until your doctor clears you.”
Shrieks flooded the hallway.
“Screw that,” Lance said, still looking around the room. “Damn it! Where are my clothes?”
“Oh, I forgot. The nurse said they had to throw them away because they were torn and bloody.”
“Shit.” Lance didn’t want to leave the hospital with his ass hanging out of his gown, but he didn’t see much of a choice. “Where are you parked?”
“Two blocks down. The garage was full.”
Lance grimaced. Not only did he have to walk through the hospital with his backside exposed, he’d have to navigate down two blocks. “The entire parking garage is full? That doesn’t sound good.”
“I didn’t really think about it at the time,” Liz said. “You’re right though—that sounds like there are a whole lot of people in here.”
More security guards rushed by the open door, huffing as they hustled their out-of-shape bodies as fast as they could. The ruckus from down the hall grew louder. The guards shouted for everyone to get away—that everything was under control.
“We need to leave. Now.” Lance moved to the door.
“You’re going to walk around in that?” Liz gestured to his gown. “Don’t you at least want your wallet first?”
“They can mail it to me. Look, I hate to ask you to do me any more favors, but I could really use a ride home. I promise not to argue with you at all.”
> “Well, I’m supposed to meet Erin at the gym in about thirty—”
“That’s fine. I can walk home from there.” Lance stepped into the hallway before she could make a counter offer. He turned right, heading in the opposite direction of the crowd, glancing over his shoulder.
The two sickly people were gone, along with most of the doctors. A half dozen guards remained, trying to herd people back to their rooms. A janitor worked his way through the group, pushing a bucket and mop toward a red puddle in the floor.
Reaching the end of the hall, Lance and Liz turned right. Two more guards argued with a man at the opposite end of the corridor, their angry words incomprehensible from so far away. They stood in front of the elevators, hands on hips, blocking the way out. Out of order signs leaned against the reflective doors.
“Damn,” Lance said. “Do you know where the stairs are?”
Liz stopped and nodded her head in the other direction. “That way. It’s kind of weird that all the elevators are out of order, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
A glowing exit sign protruded above the door at the other end of the hall. Lance picked up his pace, feeling as if he needed to get out of there as fast as he could.
Something was going on and he didn’t want to wait around to find out what.
They made it down two flights of stairs when they ran into Don, his perfectly tailored suit disheveled and dirty.
“Don? Thought you were leaving?” Lance noticed that Don’s face had flushed.
“I’ve been trying, but they have the place on lockdown. Every exit is blocked off.” He gave Liz an uneasy look before turning his attention to Lance. “I’ve been running around, trying to sneak out, but they’ve got all of their bases covered.”
“Who has the place locked down?” Liz asked. “Why?”
“The police are all over the place out there. Dozens of ‘em. And no one will tell me why—they just keep saying that I need to stay inside for my own safety. I got pissed off and tried to push my way through but they swarmed on me and threw me into the lobby.”
Lance swallowed a swell of panic forming in his throat. “They aren’t letting anyone leave at all?”
“No. They aren’t even letting anyone else come in unless they’re seriously injured.”
Liz shared a brief look with Lance.
“What?” Don asked.
“Remember how the woman in the street looked? The sick one that I pushed out of the way?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s not the only one in here that looks like that. We just saw another guy that has the same thing.”
Chapter 3