Wirt couldn't feel anything when he emerged from the lake. He clutched Greg tighter to his chest, but it felt no different. Wirt just stood there out in the open, shivering. I-It's so c-c-cold, he thought. Even his mind-voice was shaking.
"Wirt?!" a voice yelled. "Someone call an ambulance!" He saw flashlights pointed towards him as well as some silhouetted figures attached to them. He opened his mouth to say something, but only fell to the ground and continued to shiver. Someone took Greg off of him to get the small boy dried as others tended to the teenager, but Wirt protested.
"N-no," he muttered, his voice getting steadily softer and softer like decrescendo in music. "Give h-him b-b-back. I ca-I can't lose h-him aga- I can't lose him agai-n. Not again." His last sentence was a barely audible whisper, and a freezing cold tear rolled down Wirt's cheek as the world faded to darkness.
Greg blinked. For a few moments his vision was hazy, but then clarified to a greyish white sort of ceiling. It almost seemed ... sanitary.
"Oh, Greg, thank goodness!" his father sighed, wrapping her arms around his youngest son. His mother was no where to be seen.
"Where am I?" Greg asked. "Where's Mom? Where's ... Wirt?" His father straightened upwards and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"You're in the hospital Greg," he told the small boy softly. "Your mother is with Wirt in the next room. He ... hasn't woken up yet." Greg didn't process this as being a bad thing, but slowly stood up and went out into the hallway. His dad led him to the room directly to the left. Many people about Wirt's age stood outside, and one of them approached.
"Sara!" Greg exclaimed happily. Sara gave Greg a quick hug, then stood up and whispered something to Greg's dad. He nodded grimly, then led Greg through the door.
"Why is everyone standing outside?" Greg questioned innocently. "Why don't they come in here to see Wirt." His dad sighed.
"They aren't allowed," he replied as he led Greg to the side of the only bed in the room. "They only want family to be in here at the moment." Greg nodded, then directed whatever attention he possessed towards his half-brother. What he saw confused him. Wirt's eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling only very slightly. Some tubey-things were attached to his arm leading into a beeping machine.
"Greg!" his mom said with relief, walking over to her younger son to pick him up and give him a bear hug. She then propped him up with his arm and turned him to look at his brother.
"What's wrong with Wirt?" Greg asked. His mother sighed and placed Greg at the foot of Wirt's bed. He had plenty of space since Wirt was quite short.
"He's in a coma, sweetie," she responded with. When Greg tilted his head in confusion, she sighed again and explained. "It means that he can't wake up. It's like he's stuck dreaming."
"Oh," Greg mumbled. "When will he wake up? I need to talk to him." His mom pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.
"We, uh, we don't know," she whispered. "He might not wake up." Greg pulled a frowney face, then fished a certain smiling rock from his pocket.
"He's going to wake up, Mom," Greg stated, holding out the rock. "And that's a rock fact!"