Kenny rolled over and pulled the sheets over his head, closing his eyes and crushing his pillow against his ears. He didn't want to get out of bed; with all of his friends dead, he didn't see the point. He sighed, wishing he could go to sleep but no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't block out the memory of Kyle's face as he looked around desperately just before he died. He couldn't forget the sounds of Butters' screams, or the way his eyes had rolled back in his head when Cartman tightened the tourniquet around his leg.
Butters. There was a reason to get up…eventually.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there, yesterday's events playing over and over in glorious detail in his mind, but eventually there was a soft knock on his bedroom door. Kenny sighed; he'd been expecting it, not that he didn't welcome the intrusion. Only one person living in their house even bothered to knock.
"Come on in, Karen." He sat up, leaning his back against the wall and pushing the sheet down toward his lap.
The door opened and his little sister peeked in. She wasn't so little anymore, and indeed was turning into a beautiful teenager who was beginning to draw the eyes of a lot of boys in her class. Since their dad was a useless drunk, it would be up to Kenny to watch out for her in that department soon, and make sure she didn't follow in their mother's footsteps. He'd rehearsed the if you break my sister's heart I will break you speech dozens of times in his mind, even before the accident.
"Hey Kenny," she said softly, approaching the bed and adjusting one of the straps on her pink backpack around her shoulders. "I'm going to school now; I just came in to see if you were okay."
Kenny shrugged. All my friends are dead, no I'm not okay. "Yeah…I'm all right." He patted the mattress and Karen sat down. "Did you have anything to eat?"
"I had a pop tart. I saved you one." She reached into her backpack and pulled out the familiar wrapper and offered it to him. He broke off a small corner and handed the rest back. "You take it, Karebear; I'll get something when I go out later." He bit into the piece he had taken: Artificial strawberry flavor. At her frown he added, spilling a few crumbs down his chin: "I promise."
"Well, all right." She seemed about to stand, then leaned over to give him a hug. "Kenny…I'm so sorry about your friends."
He hugged her back, burying his face against the long brown hair falling past her shoulders, grateful that not everyone he cared about had been on that bus. "Thanks, Karen." It occurred to him that he would have to figure out how he supposedly 'survived' yesterday's accident; his first memory after watching all his friends and classmates disappear into the light was waking up in bed just a few minutes ago.
Once Karen had left, Kenny reluctantly forced himself to get up and turned on his ancient computer, and while it booted up he pulled on his cleanest pair of jeans and a plain white tee shirt. Then he sat down at his desk and started looking through internet news sites. Because of the enormity of the tragedy, every major news outlet had a story about it on their main page. Kenny finally clicked on the CNN article and began reading. He skipped over the details of what happened and the long list of the dead, more interested in who didn't die:
Two students of the South Park High Senior Class, Bebe Stevens and Timothy Birch, survived because they were on the prom decorating committee and had been working on decorations at the ballroom of the Airport Hilton for the upcoming senior prom.
Of the students on the bus, only two survived with injuries: Leopold Stotch, whose condition was upgraded this morning from critical to serious, had severe lower extremity injuries, while Clyde Donovan escaped with a broken arm and other minor injuries.
Kenny sighed when he came to the next paragraph.
One student, Kenneth McCormick, emerged from the wreck miraculously uninjured.
There was a slideshow of pictures of the accident. Kenny scrolled through the first three, all pictures of the wrecked bus taken from high up on the embankment. When he came to the fourth one, of a stretcher being carried out the back exit, Butters bright blond hair clearly visible alongside a paramedic's arm, Kenny stood up and quickly left his house, setting out on foot across the railroad tracks toward town.
Twenty minutes later he arrived at the main entrance to Hell's Pass Hospital and went inside. He was pleased to see Bebe and Clyde (his left arm encased from shoulder to wrist in a blue fiberglass cast) in the main lobby. Clyde's father was standing at the administration desk nearby.
"Kenny!" Bebe said, rushing from Clyde's side to give him a hug.
"Hey, Ken," Clyde said listlessly a moment later, walking over much more slowly and in obvious discomfort. Bebe grabbed onto his good arm with both hands.
"Hey, guys." Kenny looked around the lobby; Roger Donovan looked his way for a moment before turning away again. "Have you two been up to see Butters yet?"
"They won't let us because he's in intensive care," Bebe replied, and Kenny's heart fell. So much for his hopes of going up to see how he was doing, and to let him know he'd be seeing a lot more of Kenny in the coming days if he wanted. "But," Bebe added a moment later. "He's been asking to see you! His dad's up there with him, and I guess he's pretty insistent that you be allowed in. So…I guess you can go on up."
Kenny nodded, and turned to Clyde. "How are you doing man? How's your arm?"
Clyde looked down at his cast forlornly. "It's all right. It hurts a lot, but they gave me some pills…" He looked up unhappily. "Cartman said some really strange shit yesterday right before he died. It was like he thought he was talking to you. I looked around and didn't see you anywhere." He appeared like he was about to cry, and Bebe gripped his right bicep tighter. "I watched him die man, right in front of me! I was holding onto Butters' tourniquet, there was nothing I could do." He blinked, pulling his arm from Bebe to swipe at tears. "He seemed to think you were there or something."
"I'm sorry, dude." Kenny looked down toward Bebe's shoes to give Clyde a moment of privacy while he wiped his eyes. They'd never been particularly good friends, but he had a feeling he would be spending a lot of time in the coming days and months with these two. And (he hoped) Butters; a random memory of their strange trip to Hawaii together (almost ten years ago…Jesus) came to him, the two of them walking along the shore while warm waves lapped at their ankles, Butters prattling on about the movie Argo.
Kenny realized he might even learn how to have a conversation with Timmy; somehow others managed to. Survivors have to stick together, right?
"He's in room 314," Bebe said. Clyde's father was walking toward them, a 'we're all finished here' look in his eye. Kenny nodded.
"We're ready to go, son," Roger Donovan said, turning his gaze to include Kenny. "Hello, Ken. I'm so sorry about what happened."
Kenny nodded. "Thank you, sir." He looked back at Clyde and Bebe; she was still clinging to his arm. "I'll talk to you guys soon."
"Okay, Kenny," Clyde answered, seeming reluctant to end their conversation.
"Do you want to get some breakfast before we go home?" Roger asked his son as they started toward the exit.
"Only if Bebe can come," Clyde replied. Kenny turned toward the bank of elevators.
"Of course she can." Their conversations faded behind him. Kenny rode the elevator alone to the third floor, stepping out onto green carpet when the door trundled open. He looked over the signs on the wall, turning to his right and walking toward room 314, entering an area that was clearly the Intensive Care wing.
Stephen Stotch was sitting in a chair outside the door of room 314. At Kenny's approach, he stood up. He appeared to have aged twenty years since the last time Kenny had seen him.
"Hello, Kenneth." He smiled sadly, offering Kenny his hand and they shook.
"Kenny." He let go of Butters' father's hand. "Hi, Mr. Stotch."
There was a long awkward silence while Kenny waited for the older man to say something. "You might as well call me Stephen. Kenny…Butters has been asking to see you. You're one of his best friends, aren't you?"
Kenny nodded, even while he was considering his answer. Was he? They had been when they went to Hawaii together almost a decade ago, but since then Butters' and his lives had seemed to go off in two different trajectories. Butters was college bound while Kenny expected to spend the rest of his life here in South Park working at a dead end job. They still talked, and they would hang out together with Stan, Cartman and Kyle (not anymore). He wouldn't say he was particularly close to Butters anymore, but Kenny sensed that would be changing soon, just like his friendships with Clyde and Bebe (and Timmy).
"Yes sir, I am." Kenny was pleased with how honest the half lie sounded.
"I'm glad to hear that." Butters' father was looking at his shoes. "He's going to need a lot of help in the coming months, to get over this. I hope you can be there for him."
"Of course I will." There was something odd about this conversation, but Kenny couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Of course he meant for Kenny to be there as well as them…right? He wished he could talk to Stan and Kyle about this.
"I'm glad to hear that, Kenny. I…I want to get your cell phone number so we can stay in touch, and give you mine…"
Kenny nodded, slightly relieved, but something about this still seemed off. "Good idea." He pulled his cheap TracFone from his pocket and entered the phone number Stephen gave him into its memory and recited his own number while Butters' dad entered it into his $300 Smartphone.
"Why don't you go in and see him?" Stephen said once they had put their phones away. "I'm going to go downstairs to the cafeteria for a bite to eat. I'll be back in twenty minutes. Do you want anything?"
"Maybe a cup of coffee?" Kenny asked hopefully as he offered his hand. Stephen's palm was extremely damp when they shook this time; it hadn't been just a minute ago.
"You bet! Thank you, Kenny."
It wasn't until Kenny had entered the room and looked at the single bed in the middle, IV lines and wires going into Butters' arms and the entire lower half of his body encased in a plaster cast and his right leg elevated in a complex system of pulleys that Kenny thought to wonder about three things: Why was he even allowed in here, and why hadn't Stephen asked him how he wanted his coffee?
And where the hell is his mother?