The air couldn't have been more oppressive. The flickering clinical lights of the hospital room matched the particular click-clacking of Casey's heels. She paced the tile floor, scolding me for my recklessness. She was pissed. And I was a little embarrassed.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Almost like the buzz of a pager. Well, not quite. More like a doctor writing notes on a clipboard.
David and a couple of nurses sat across from me on stools. They gave me this gentle look--a certain kind of sympathy. I was grateful they were here. I wouldn't have wanted to face her alone. David shared a quiet smile with me.
"We couldn't find you in your room, in the lobby, or the bathroom! Where the hell--sorry--heck were you? We were worried sick. Hey, are you even paying attention?"
I bolted upright. My back straightened, as if my teacher was reprimanding me. I've never been to detention, but this is what I imagined it was like.
"S--sorry! It won't ever happen again. I promise!"
She sighed, closed her eyes, and began to massage the bridge of her nose. She looked like she was going to get a migraine…again.
"That's not the point, Monty."
One of the nurses piped up. "I'm sure Mr. Court is quite tired. Maybe we can recuperate at a later point to discuss his behavior?"
Casey, swiveling on her heels, swung around to face her. Poor nurse.
"You're lucky I don't go directly to your supervisor. You are as much to blame for enabling him to ignore his recovery. It was barely a week ago that he was hospitalized. And he only just woke up from a coma this morning! Talk about reckless abandon. My word~"
She turned to me.
"Monty…there could be issues we still aren't sure about. You need to give yourself time to rest."
"But, I already spoke with Dr. Crowe. He said I was fine…for the most part."
She furrowed her brow.
"Well, I don't know this Dr. Crowe, but that doesn't sound like any sane advice from a doctor that I've ever heard."
Casey placed her fists on her hips and faced me head-on.
"Monty, promise me you'll rest up. No escapades, off-sight rendezvous, or mysterious disappearances until I think you're ready."
I looked down at my fists, balled up on my lap. That would put a damper on my plans. It meant I couldn't get in touch with Cindi. We couldn't compare notes on the incident or strategize about how it could've happened--how things led to what they did. But, maybe it wasn't the end of the world.
I must have really worried her. Casey wouldn't do all this if she didn't think it was necessary. Maybe I should listen to her.
"Okay," I said.
She raised her eyebrow at me.
Reluctantly, I continued. "I promise I won't leave."
She relaxed her arms, and her shoulders sagged. She felt a lot older than she was. Her sigh reminded me of Mr. Chelsea's, and it made me a little sad for a moment. Like a deflated balloon. Her eyes darted across the room towards David. He gave her a dry smile before she whisked him out into the hall. No one stopped her. I could only afford a quick acknowledgement, a slight nod of my head to David to let him know I empathized with his approaching doom. He smiled back at me, fully realizing what he's gotten himself into.
I glanced through the hospital door at the two of them. She was talking his ear off. Like a furious manager exploding at their employee. David's smile retreated into himself like a turtle as she berated him. She called out his obliviousness, his laissez-faire attitude. I felt pretty bad for the guy. She gave him the exact same treatment she gave me, or maybe even worse. They returned shortly after with David still shaken from the ordeal.
"Jeez, both of you are definitely blood related. That's for sure," Casey said, brushing her blazer.
"Us Websters are like that," David joked. "Your mom was reckless, too."
"Really?"
"Oooh yeah. Even worse than me."
I laughed. Hearty and genuine. It was nice to hear stories about her from David. It's been so long since we've spoken about her. He didn't talk about her much, but when he did his eyes would light up and he'd go on for hours talking about the littlest of things they did together as a kid. How he'd bicker and fight with his own parents all the time. How they bonded over comic books and movies and pillow forts in the living room. Whenever he spoke about her like that, I'd get gut punched, reminded of the things we used to do as a family, of the life I could've had.
I may have lost a mom, but sometimes I forgot he lost an aunt too.
David checked his watch.
"Sorry buddy. I'm gonna have to head back home and finish up some work."
I nodded. He could tell I was disappointed.
"You know how it can be. I just have to finish up some research--for the museum."
"Can you text me when you get home?" I asked.
"Sure buddy. Of course I can. But before I leave, I wanted to tell you that Cindi stopped by while you were under. She wanted to talk to you about something important, she said."
I perked up. I was suddenly very conscious about my posture and the people around me. I almost blushed.
"She … she did?"
He nodded. A big smile crossed his cheeks.
"Like I said, a little beauty sleep and…well."
"Please … don't," I said, shaking my head. He laughed to himself like a loony. And in the corner, Casey was a little lost.
"You're not allowed to leave the hospital, you hear me?" She said, reiterating her point from earlier.
"I heard you."
"Good," she said. She moved towards the exit, along with David. "And Monty…" she started to say.
I looked up at her. She looked back at David before continuing. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Thanks," I said. The two of them left smiling. The warmth left with them.
When David told me Cindi had visited, I wasn't exactly certain how I felt. Yes, I was excited to hear that she was concerned for me, and even more excited to hear that she wanted to tell me something, but something else underpinned my excitement. A part of me felt like I failed her back there on the beach.
Did she forgive me? Could she? While I thought of that night, a part of me wished things had gone differently. The memory of that feeling rolled around in my head, taking up space and displaced other ideas of mine I tried to develop. I couldn't think straight as it ate away at me, and it only grew the more I thought about it.
I was disappointed in myself. I clutched my fists until they were white. I wasn't just disappointed, I was frustrated. I couldn't do anything right, just like back then. I was powerless.
Yet again, someone else had to save me. When would it be my turn to save someone? When will I be the hero? And, the worst thought of all that I had, why was I worth saving now? Were my parents not worthy of being saved back then?
"Wow, I'm pathetic," I whispered to myself. "Cindi, I couldn't be as brave as you were. But I promise you, I'll be braver from now on."
I looked back outside into the cool dark city with its lights like fireflies in the distance. The inner city was just as pretty as the Southshore, but it was harder to see the bay. A different kind of pretty. I remembered that night when we went to the wharf that the water sparkled like gems. It was pretty in a way I rarely thought about anymore. Maybe I didn't want to think anymore.
The lights of machines flickered. The room buzzed from pointless medical equipment. I didn't need a heart rate monitor no matter what Dr. Crowe said. I never needed one before today. I was fine, but I was also alone and the only one in that room, so it wasn't like I could just explain that to someone. Now that I had the chance to look around, It was nothing like my bedroom back at David's apartment. No one was around for me to talk to; there were no nurses or other patients to keep me company. I didn't even have my books or comics to pass the time. It was like a holding cell.
My hands fidgeted idly. They needed something to do. I just couldn't sleep. I glanced down at my backpack as it sat loosely on the floor, leaning up against the foot of my cot. I pulled it onto the bed and began to rifle through its contents. And by 'contents' I meant whatever I could fit into it earlier. Anything to get my mind off of things. I needed to be constructive; not wallow in my depression. Nothing would come out of that except for more wallowing.
Inside my backpack were a few binders of notes, newspaper clippings, and printed off articles. I took them out to spread on my bed. After flipping through the binders, I began to get a sense for things.
Mysterious disappearances were a dime-a-dozen in Agartha City; more so than others. It was like hundreds of people a year just vanished into thin air. For a city as big as mine, that wasn't entirely new knowledge. I've heard a number of stories about people one day vanishing from work or school. Missing people's cases have sprung up particularly on the Island--A.k.a the City Central.
An island off the bay, connected to Easton by the Easton Bridge, was known to be the capital of most missing cases in the entirety of the Agartha City Metropolitan area. A hotspot of those sorts of stories. And where I used to live before the incident. The island technically consisted of three boroughs or Wards. Wards 01, 02, and 03. I forgot how many Wards the city had in general, but these were three of the most populated and most dense.
Since David worked at the museum as a curator and research analyst, he had the resources at his disposal to help me better research stuff like municipal population data and reported incidents from a decade ago. The archives at the Museum of Agartha in Easton were as esoteric as they sound, a complete enigma to a layman like me. So David's been a huge help in guiding me along with my research.
I remembered when I first asked him. It was about a year and a half later. I asked him if he could bring home some books on missing people in Agartha. He was first against it. I think particularly back then, he didn't know how to best help me recover. I think it killed him a little to see me struggling to make sense of what happened. He's been more willing to help out recently, especially since I'm in high school. Maybe he was just happy that I was finally trying to move beyond my weakness.
Regardless, I appreciated him. I didn't know if I could have gotten this far without him. I'll have to make it up to David, one of these days. For now, I focused on the task at hand.
I scanned my notes, going over them again like I'm David searching old census records for the mention of a single name or meeting minutes for a specific date. Speaking of the devil.
A notification flashed across my screen. It was David. He texted me: Home!, accompanied by too many emojis. I sent him a thumbs up to let him know I got it. Thanks David.
Another text popped up. David sent me, "I'm hitting the hay soon. Hope you can do the same. GN!"
He was probably right, I should get some sleep. Today's been a long day. I sent him a GN text and slipped out of bed. I thought about picking up another drink from the vending machine across the hall before finishing up. Just water. I was thirsty.
This hospital wasn't like the one they brought me all those years ago. It was far larger, more labyrinthine. It wouldn't be so hard to navigate if every hallway didn't look the same. But it took me a few minutes to find the bathroom, where I finished my nighttime essentials, and returned to my room with a small water bottle and toothbrush in my hands.
Inside my room, a girl stood staring out the window.
She wore a long hospital gown with tubes sticking out her arms. She stared off into the distance like she was transfixed on the city lights. She had long straight hair, scraggly, but well kept.
I stood in the doorway shocked. It didn't even register for me that she was there until I was fully inside the dark room. I dropped my water bottle and toothbrush, startling the girl.
She jumped back. She swiveled on her heels to face me. A dark look was in her eye. I realized she was waiting for me to say something.
"H--Hi. What are you doing in my room?" I asked simply.
"Are you Monty Court?" Her voice was soft, quiet. Like she only just started speaking again after going mute for a while. I saw some burnt marks on her bare feet. Maybe she was a victim of one of those AADs?
I nodded and took a step back.
She stepped forward.
"He--he told me you'd be here."
"Who did?" Okay. I was starting to get a little scared. She looked up at me. Strings of hair hid her face. I couldn't completely see what she looked like. It made her look like a ghost.
Something within me knew she was bad news.
"He told me--" She looked down then up at me. She was getting ready to sprint.
"He told me I have to kill you."