Page 85 of Stalked By Shadows
It took a bit of effort to get myself to the edge of the bed, and ready to get vertical. My legs and arms felt weak, like they had been overused and abused. A male nurse appeared in the doorway with a clipboard. He did a tiny lurch at seeing me up and set the clipboard on the rolling table before he was by my side, steadying me.
“Need to pee,” I told him.
“Okay,” he agreed and helped me up, moving the IV stand to roll with me. We waddled to the bathroom. He helped me to the giant area beside the toilet and pointed to the bar beside it. “Hold on to that so you don’t fall over.”
“Planning on it,” I promised, reaching for the handle. Thankfully he let me pee in peace. I was able to wash my hands and open the door before he was back to help me into the bed. How had I gotten to the hospital? Had the fall given me a concussion I hadn’t noticed? “Can you tell me why I’m here?” I asked the nurse.
“I think we all have a lot of questions about that,” the nurse said. “But your brother is on his way. So hopefully we’ll have some answers soon.”
I frowned. “But I don’t remember coming to the hospital at all.” Why would Lukas be on the way? Wouldn’t he have been notified the second I’d been admitted? I knew from the vague memory of waking up the first time that I’d obviously been in the hospital at least a day, since there had been so much in and out of consciousness. “Did I have a concussion?”
“You’re severely dehydrated and malnourished, but no concussion,” the nurse said. “Do you remember hitting your head?”
I thought about when I’d passed out and smashed my face on the sidewalk after Micah disappeared—Micah, was he still missing?—, though my face didn’t hurt anymore. “I fell, but I don’t think I fell hard enough to break anything.”
“That’s good. If you’re feeling okay, I can get some food ordered for you.”
“Food would be good,” I said, suddenly feeling like I hadn’t eaten in forever. I’d even eat those stupid sugar pillows people called beignets if I had to.
“Let me get some food for you then.” Once he’d helped me back into the bed, he grabbed up his clipboard and left.
I frowned at the room, not recognizing it from the hospital I’d been at in New Orleans. But there were multiple hospitals in New Orleans. Perhaps I hadn’t been to this one before? At least it didn’t look like a psych ward. I’d seen enough of those in my life to recognize just about any of them. And since they weren’t limiting my access to the bathroom or facial tissues, I didn’t think I was on any sort of suicide watch.
Dehydrated and malnourished? How did that happen? I’d been eating fine, at least two meals a day plus snacks. Maybe I’d been out a few days? That could explain the dehydration but not being malnourished, that took longer than a few days to develop. I frowned at the questions popping up in my head. Overthinking was a skill I had on a good day, today it was out of control.
Had it all been a dream? The cemetery, seeing Micah and Sarah? The excruciating pain of being eaten by the shadows and then rescued by fire. Too many questions. I prayed it was all an elaborate dream. Anything else was terrifying.
I laid back and dozed a bit more, jolting awake every few minutes when I felt some sort of electricity run through my limbs. I imagined the feeling equated a bit to being hit by lightning. Little shocks of muscle spasms would make a body part tremble for a minute or two before passing on to another part of me. It was a bit unnerving, but didn’t hurt as much as it was uncomfortable.
The food came, and while it was a bland plate of chicken breast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a white roll, it tasted divine. I ate every bite, and wondered if I could request more. Why was I so damn hungry? Why did I want bananas? It was an almost visceral need as my gut twisted with desire. Like instead of water I needed a fucking banana. Maybe I really was going nuts.
“Mr. Caine?” The nurse was back, popping his head around the open doorframe.
“Yes?” I asked, pushing away the finished tray.
“Your brother is here. Along with a Micah Richards, are you okay with seeing them?”
Micah was here? Micah was found? Holy fuck! I nearly leapt out of bed, but a muscle spasm heaved through my left calf, in a horrible charley horse, making me curl up over it until it passed.
“Just a second,” I groaned, rubbing at the pain, and trying to breathe through it.
“You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to,” the nurse said after a minute.
“No, please. I do want to see them. Sorry my muscles are acting odd,” I replied when the pain finally passed.
“It’s part of the malnutrition. That’s why we still have the bag on you. You’ll probably need a potassium drip soon too. I’ve already got a note in to the doctor about it. We’re waiting on some of your blood tests and when we pulled your records you have a long list of allergies. So we kept your care basic.”
“Appreciate it,” I said. “Drugs and me don’t mix well. Can I see them now? Lukas and Micah? Please?” Was this real? Were they here? I had so many questions.
“Sure. Give me a moment to bring them down.” He vanished and I tried to keep myself calm waiting by singing to myself, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.”
I feared falling asleep again and awakening to find they weren’t here, wherever here was, or that Micah was still missing, or that I was still lost in some sort of unknown grave being eaten alive by evil shadow maggots. I could have used a craft in that moment, sort of like Micah did when he needed to clear his head, crochet or even coloring, like was big when I’d been in the psych ward. It would have been something to focus on as it felt like forever before footsteps and voices approached the door. I was in the fifties of remaining bottles when they finally arrived.
Lukas was the first through. He flew at me, wrapping his arms around me and holding tight enough to hurt. I blinked at him, and then Micah who reached for me as well. I held out an arm so I could wrap them both in a hug.
It was Micah. He felt real, solid, and whole in my arms. Lukas was a bit more confusing as he looked more like me than I’d ever recalled him looking. His face was covered in scruff and hair a mess like he’d missed a trim or two, and that made no sense.
“I’m so happy to see you guys,” I told them.