He walked back out into the main lounge and noticed that Brian had returned to where he was sitting the previous day. Filled with lethargic energy, Rowan shuffled over to the man and collapsed into the seat beside him.
“Where’d you go?” asked Brian, who was holding a small, plastic cup in his hand.
“I was writing all night long.”
“You sure that was a good idea? You look kind of dead.”
“I think it was.” Rowan rubbed his eyes until Brian’s face was no longer a blurry blob. “We all have our ways of relieving our emotions, you know?”
“I totally understand. Whatever makes you feel better, Rowan. Hold on to those things.”
The boy began to doze off until he was suddenly interrupted by a deafening screech coming from the television screen. At first, he thought that one of the patients had purposefully changed the channel to something excruciatingly loud, but he noticed that some of the doctors and interns were staring at the screen as well. He and Brian walked over to the commotion, being careful to approach at least ten paces behind the other patients. The screen was completely black.
Connie leapt in front of the television with her hands wrapped around her head. “It’s happening! I told every single one of you!”
“What’s going on?” asked Rowan. And, as quickly as he had asked the question, the picture returned to the screen like a passing specter come to warn him of forthcoming danger. A newscaster sat worried and alone in the studio, awaiting something: perhaps a cue, or perhaps an image through which she was to speak over. It no longer seemed to matter to her, as she let out the breath she held and began to speak.
“For those of you who are hearing this…” She paused and glanced up at the camera, sullen, with her eyes devoid of hope. “Today is a terrible day. Call your loved ones and make sure they’re safe.”
Rowan’s heart dropped. What the hell happened? He reached his hand down to his thigh to pull out his phone before remembering that it was no longer in his possession. He panicked. Was Caitlyn safe? Were his parents okay? What was going on, and what would be bad enough to warrant an emergency broadcast?
“New York City is gone. Boston. Phoenix. They’ve been destroyed. Covered in a layer of what seems to be some sort of dark, toxic gas.” The newscaster rested her words for a moment, as their sheer gravity had completely drained the oxygen out of her lungs. “We strongly believe that both Russia and North Korea are behind this terrorist attack due to recent events—”
The screen went black again. Rowan turned to look at the small man holding the television remote, noticing the tremors in his hands.
“Everyone,” said Dr. Robinson as he placed the remote into his back pocket. “I’m going to need you all to follow Nurse Maria into the sleeping area.”
“Put that back on!” Decker rose from his seat and came inches away from the doctor’s face. “Why are you trying to keep us in the dark about what’s going on out there?”
“Decker, you must calm down and listen to instructions for the sake of your own safety.” Dr. Robinson paused and looked at the rest of the patients, who had all begun to stare at him. “That goes for the rest of you, too.”
Several doctors emerged from their cubicles. Rowan, noticing the frozen look in Brian’s eyes, nudged him slightly with his elbow.
Brian glanced at the boy with an air of frightful innocence, resembling a wandering doe being hunted in the middle of the woods. He reminded Rowan of the time when Allie had caught him sneaking out of the apartment in the dead of night when he wanted to catch a breath of fresh air—because, of course, he was losing his sanity over the assignments he needed to complete by the dawn of that upcoming morning—and, he must have had that same demeanor of fearful rigidity that Brian was now showing him. The patients, including Rowan and Brian, were now rounded up and herded into the sleeping area, although some of the patients were led into separate rooms because of their incessant barking. Rowan was surprised that Decker was not one of these patients. Instead, the giant man stood in the middle of the room with a smile drawn across his face.
“Everyone!” he yelled. “We’ve got to do something! The doctors that put us in here—does anyone actually trust them? Does anyone actually think they have our best interests in mind? They’re treating us like fucking animals. Are any of us animals? No!”
Rowan looked around to see if Dr. Robinson was ready to spring into action and stop Decker’s nonsensical speech, but no doctors were even present in the room to monitor the patients.
“We, as human beings, deserve—”
The room went dark. Screaming ensued, and Rowan immediately extended his hands forward in order to find a wall to cling on to, but shifting bodies obstructed his path. He stood still, stiff and rigid, wondering what was going on. Was Los Angeles, too, being bombed? Was it even a bomb? What the hell was the news story about?
He found the answer to his question. There was a distant siren that blared outside, and it was distinctly the same ear-piercing shriek that he had heard just two mornings ago right outside of his apartment. The war was here.
After an eternity of pushing, shoving, and frantic yelling that deafened Rowan’s ears, a dim light entered the room. Nurse Maria scurried in with several other doctors, and they began to place candles everywhere. The chaos didn’t stop, but somehow, the arrival of the nurses and doctors seemed to have controlled the chaos in a way that prevented any actual danger from happening.
“We’re very sorry everyone!” Nurse Maria lit another candle and softly placed it atop a table near the exit. Her hand lingered on the glass that encased the wax, as she doubted the safety of leaving such a hazardous object to a volatile group of mental patients. Perhaps it didn’t even matter at this point.
“There was a blackout, and the lights will be back shortly. Therapy and treatment will continue as normal, so please listen for your name if and when you are called.”
Rowan looked around and noticed Brian sitting on the floor beside him. There was a cut on his left cheek, most likely the result of a scuffle in the dark. “Hey, Brian, did you hear that?”
He looked up at the boy. “Hear what?”
“Can you believe they’re still doing therapy despite what’s happening? They’re not even telling us what the hell is going on.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s terrible.”
Rowan sat down next to Brian, whose troubled countenance betrayed his earlier, warm personality. “Something wrong?”
“Something wrong?” Brian laughed. “Of course there’s something wrong. Do you know what this means?”
Rowan sat still. “I have an idea.”
“We’re going to be stuck here. And you know it.”
“I think I was already stuck here in the first place.”
“I suppose you’re right. But I was so close to finally being free. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it in here.”
“Sorry Brian, I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s all right. These things happen. I’ll be okay. I think I’ll be okay.”
Brian buried his face in his hands. Deciding it was best not to disturb him, Rowan got up and stood by the exit to wait for his therapy session. He needed to get some answers from Dr. Robinson. Why should he have to bother going through some sort of therapy when there was something going on in the world with much bigger stakes? Dr. Robinson would likely understand his reasoning, and perhaps he would let Rowan go and allow him to return home.
Rowan sank down to the floor, his face somewhat lit up by the blueberry candle resting beside him. The scent, which calmed him by drawing him away from the sick odor of the restless bodies wandering around him, likewise tortured him by reminding him that his peace and tranquility was fraudulent. He was in a hospital hundreds of miles away from Caitlyn and his family, and he had no idea what was really going on in the world.
Nurse Maria must have recited over fifty names before she finally came to Rowan’s. She looked down at the dejected boy, who tilted
his head upwards to her in unison with her empty stare. She didn’t even bother to say anything before she led Rowan out of the room.
The boy felt constricted as he stepped out into the main living area, as the grand room was only lit up by several candles, making the place resemble the lingering hours of a fleeting funeral wake. He thought about the candlelight vigil that his high school had held nearly a year ago for a student who had committed suicide: a kid named Alex. Rowan didn’t know him very well, but as far as he and everyone else was aware, Alex seemed like a happy kid. He left no note aside from the indecipherable lines found around his neck in the morning of a late March day.
When Rowan finally made it to Dr. Robinson’s cubicle, the doctor greeted him with an icy handshake. “Take a seat.”
Rowan couldn’t even see Dr. Robinson’s face. The darkness consumed everything, and it was like he was now in a confessional booth to share his sins. “Just so you know, I’m not here for therapy. I don’t think I need that right now.”
The doctor shifted in his seat. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, it just doesn’t feel right. Why should I—or anybody here—bother going through therapy and treatment when it seems like something much more serious is going on outside of these hospital walls?”
There was a momentary silence that fused itself with the darkness. “Therapy and treatment is important, Rowan. There isn’t anything happening that should take precedence over the process of helping you get better.”
“Doctor, you’ve got to tell me what the hell is going on out there. I need to go home if it’s something serious, and I sure as hell feel like it is. The war started, hasn’t it?”
“I need you to focus on your treatment. Nothing else matters right now, okay?”
“Fine. Let’s talk about treatment, then. How can I de-stress if you don’t tell me what’s going on? This has been bothering me for hours, and it’ll continue to do so for as long as you’re willing to hide it from us.”
From the shadows, a faint outline leaned toward Rowan. “All right, I’ll tell you then, but I need you to promise me that you won’t talk to any of the other patients about this, because it’ll only make them panic, and it’ll only make their conditions worse. Think about them all. I know that not all of them are right in the head, and I know that some of them may seem rude to you, but I need you to promise me that you have their best interests in mind like I do.”
“Okay, then. I promise.”
“Good. Now, I can’t tell you everything because I don’t think it’d be a good idea, but what I will tell you is that we can’t let anyone out of this hospital under any circumstances. It’s just not safe out there right now, and that’s all you need to know.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me? You’re telling me something I already know—and I bet the rest of the patients know it, too.”
“I’ll tell you more, but not today. Certainly not today. Give me some time, and I’ll tell you, okay?”
Rowan stormed out of the cubicle and followed the trail of candles back to the sleeping area. What the hell was wrong with Dr. Robinson? Didn’t everyone have the right to know about whether or not the whole world was fucking ending? What if Caitlyn and his parents were trying to contact him? Withholding information had to be worse than telling him the truth—but perhaps the conditions outside were worse than he thought. What if Dr. Robinson really was doing the best thing for him and the other patients by not saying a damn thing?
Rowan found Brian sitting against a wall, where he was looking down at the floor, oddly still, seemingly lost in a train of dejecting thoughts. Unsure of whether or not it was a good idea to talk to him about the prospect of being stuck in this hospital for an indefinite period of time, Rowan hesitated to approach him. As much as Rowan disliked Dr. Robinson right now, he recognized that he was right. Saying anything related to the television broadcast could induce a bout of panic. He was already quite unnerved himself.
The boy slowly shuffled over to Brian and slid his back down against the wall until he peacefully landed next to him. As he turned to look at the man, he instantly backed away at the sight of blood all over Brian’s hospital gown. A nearby candle illuminated the deep red stains that covered Brian’s hands and neck, and although Rowan tried to resist his curiosity, he leaned forward to investigate what had happened.
The stitches on Brian’s neck were torn at the seams. Had he pulled them apart himself? There was no way of knowing—but it didn’t really matter, did it? He was dead. Rowan called out to the doctors in the hallway, but they were nowhere to be found.
“No breakfast, no lunch, and they expect us to sit here and be quiet.” Decker moaned. He had a gathering of patients around him, who all waited intently for him to continue speaking. “We have to do something. We’re going to die if we don’t.”
Rowan couldn’t hear any cheers over the sound of his grumbling stomach. It had been a week since he discovered Brian’s dead body, and although the corpse was no longer in the room, Rowan could still feel the man’s presence reverberating all over the room. Every patient reminded him of Brian—not because they had the same illness that Brian did, but because they were all facing something terrible with nothing hopeful to save them. There was nothing hopeful about his own circumstances either. He had no news about Caitlyn, his parents, San Jose, or about anything that had to do with what that newscaster was talking about during the emergency broadcast.
Nurse Maria called Rowan’s name from somewhere in the dark void. He needed to use this chance to finally leave the hospital, didn’t he? He could go ahead and steal Dr. Robinson’s keys, and since Dr. Robinson was now the only doctor remaining at the hospital—save for a few nurses—then he could get away without much trouble. The rest of the doctors had slowly trickled away over the last few days, probably because of what was going on outside. There wasn’t going to be anyone to stop Rowan from leaving anymore. If he needed to fight Dr. Robinson for his keys, then he would do it.
Rowan sat up and followed Nurse Maria out the door. Instead of leading Rowan to the cubicle that Dr. Robinson was usually at, however, Nurse Maria led him into a small storage room that was lit up with a single candle, which had provided Dr. Robinson with just barely enough light to finish organizing the box of rations that he was planning to hand out in the next few hours.
“Hello, Rowan. How are you doing?” Dr. Robinson strained to read the papers that were scattered across his makeshift desk made out of empty storage containers.
“Not well. You’ve got to let me out of here already. How many more times do I need to complain to you before you realize how terrible it is to keep me trapped in here?”
Dr. Robinson pushed a rolling chair over to the boy. “The food is coming soon. Don’t worry, okay? I know you’re hungry.”
“It isn’t the fucking food I’m worried about,” said Rowan as he shoved the rolling chair over to the edge of the room. “It’s the fact that you still haven’t told me a thing about what’s going on out there. I don’t know if my family is safe, and they don’t even know if I’m safe. How can you justify doing something like that?”
“Calm down, Rowan. I have your best interests in mind, even if you don’t know it.”
Rowan suddenly eyed the crowbar that was sitting on Dr. Robinson’s desk. “How exactly do you have my best interests in mind?”
“It’s just that you’re better off in here than you are out there. Trust me. Everything will be sorted out in the next few weeks—I just know it. Then, everything will be okay. But for now, being in this hospital is the best possible place you can be.”
Rowan lunged forward and grabbed the crowbar before Dr. Robinson had the chance to realize what the boy had been planning. In an effort to escape, Dr. Robinson dove toward the door and screamed out to Nurse Maria, but Rowan was able to silence him by pushing him up against the wall with his weapon.
“Convince me to stay. Convince me not to take your keys from you.”
“What the hell is so bad out there that it’s worse than being in here? Has the war really made things that bad?”
Dr. Robinson attempted to pry off Rowan’s forearm. “Let go and I’ll tell you, all right?”
Rowan hesitated for a moment, but he ultimately set the doctor free and allowed him to return to his seat. “Don’t leave out any details.”
“You might want to sit for this. It’s heavier than you think.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, then.” Dr. Robinson wiped a bead of sweat that had dripped down from his forehead to his eyelid. “I don’t even know where to start. The past few days have just been filled with awful and terrible news.”
“Start from where you turned off the TV in the lounge room.”
Dr. Robinson tensed up as he braced himself to explain. “That news broadcast didn’t even come close to depicting how bad everything went. From the details I’ve picked up over the radio in the past few days, it’s suspected that the North Koreans and the Russians bombed a whole lot of cities all over the United States with some sort of biological weapon—and we responded with nuclear missiles.”
“Nuclear?” Rowan’s hands went numb. “We nuked a country? Both of them?”
“I know it sounds hard to believe, but it’s true. And they fought back even harder. A lot of the United States is practically gone, not to mention all of the electricity going down.”
“What cities were affected?”
“I’m not sure which ones, exactly. They tried listing them on the radio, but too many were gassed to even count. I don’t know if—”
“Did they get San Jose?”
“I’m not sure, but—”
“Please tell me you know,” said Rowan. “You know, don’t you?”
“No,” said the doctor. He had a faint glint in his eyes, which held a reflection of the candle placed atop his desk. “No, I don’t. But you have to know something else.”
Seasons After Fall Page 5