Pinch me
Pinch me
'Cause I'm still
Asleep
Please God
Tell me
That I'm still asleep
--from Pinch Me by the Barenaked Ladies
There was a good hour and a half of preaching before Pruitt was called to another room. She set aside the Bible and told Micah with a thin smile that she'd be back later. He sneered and said he couldn't wait. Shortly after, Gabe returned with a few Big Macs and some french fries. Micah thought he'd never be happier to see greasy fast food.
"I'm back," she said cheerfully, presenting the food with a flourish. He smiled in relief.
"Thank God," he mumbled. Gabe, already pulling up a chair, looked up questioningly.
"Hm?"
"Nothing." Micah took one of the burgers eagerly and unwrapped it. "Figured out what to do about Pruitt yet?"
"Not yet," she said through a mouthful of Big Mac. He frowned and took a bite.
"Damn. You know what Pruitt was doing when you came in?" Gabe shook her head silently. "She was making me pray. She was forcing me to pray." Her eyes widened.
"She was what?" Micah took another bite of burger, deciding he liked the taste.
"First she started preaching about the Ten Commandments, then she went on to 'Our Father'." Gabe swallowed and frowned.
"Sorry," she mumbled, looking down. He raised his eyebrows.
"For what? It's not your fau--"
"Yes it is!" The girl set aside her sandwich in disgust. Micah set his down as well, opening his mouth to say something, but Gabe went on. "It's entirely my fault. I should've never--"
"Hey," he said quietly, taking her hand. "Hey. That's not fair. It's not your fault, it's Pruitt's.
(and mine)
And I don't want you putting the blame on yourself." She nodded a little, but didn't meet his eyes.
"Right," Gabe muttered. Micah frowned and shook her hand lightly.
"I'm serious!" The girl's blue eyes flicked up to him momentarily. Then she smiled.
"All right. All right." She squeezed his hand a little and picked up her burger. "Sorry. I got a little... frustrated, that's all."
"Gotcha," he murmured, grabbing a fry. They finished lunch quickly, and with minimal conversation. The same thing was on both their minds -- and more important than small talk.
Gabe threw away the wrappers and fry boxes. She hurriedly kissed Micah and told him goodbye; she had things to attend to. She also promised she'd be back later -- and with an answer to their Pruit problem.
Edith came in a while later.
"Sorry, dearie," she said cheerfully. "Pruitt went home early."
(I'm so upset. Listen to me cry.)
"Oh. What for?" Micah tried to contain a smile.
"She said she was feeling ill." Nurse Edith hurried over to the cabinet and retrieved his medicine. "Dr. Phillips is gettng worried. She keeps leaving early, and he's afraid she's really come down with something."
(The world would mourn if Pruitt contracted some deadly virus.)
"I'm worried too," he mumbled, doing his best to keep a straight face. The nurse shrugged and spooned out his medicine.
"That's sweet. Here, eat this." She held it out towards him. Micah took it and swallowed quickly.
"No problem." He blinked a little, then burped. "Ooh. Sorry." He leaned back against the pillow and nestled into it. Edith smiled and turned to put away the bottle.
"Oh, by the way, it'll make you a bit sleepy--" But Micah had already drifted into a light sleep, snoring quietly. Nurse Edith covered a chuckle with her hand. "Hm. Nevermind." She smiled and returned to the cabinets, unaware that Micah would sleep for the next twelve hours.
Gabe rushed in around 10:30 that night.
"Edith, he's still not awake?" She darted to his bed, blue eyes taking in the pale, still form.
"No," Edith murmured. Her brows knitted in concern as she watched Gabe. "Honey, don't--"
"Micah!" Gabe took his shoulders and shook him, looking more than a little nervous. "Micah, wake up! Don't do this, Micah--" Nurse Edith placed a hand gently on the girl's back.
"Gabe, dear--" Gabe leaned closer to Micah's pale face.
"Please, you have to wake up!" The elder nurse shook her head.
"Don't worry, honey. He's fine." Gabe whirled and scowled at her.
"Fine? Fine?! He's lapsed back into the coma, Edith! He's not fine!" But then her face crumbled and she covered it with her hands to conceal the tears. Edith clucked her tongue and hugged her gently.
"Come on, Gabrielle. I'm taking you home."
"No," Gabe managed through sobs, "no, I have to stay here--"
"You can't do anything for him when you're like this." Edith put an arm around her shoulder and lead her to the door. "I'll drop you off and come right back, okay?" Gabe dragged a hand over her eyes, trying to regain composure.
"You'll call? You'll call as soon as he wakes up?" The elder nurse smiled and nodded.
"I'll call. I promise." Gabe paused, looked over her shoulder, and let out a shaky sigh.
"All right," she mumbled. "All right, I'll go." She and Edith walked slowly out into the hall, leaving Micah alone in the hospital room. He was still asleep.
The corn before him had been spread to make a passage. It was almost as if Moses himself had been there, parting the normally neat and trim stalks like the Red Sea. It was quite obvious that someone wanted him to go through, to follow the dirt-beaten path, so he did. He walked along in silence, dread gnawing at his stomach. And then he saw the scarecrow.
It shouldn't have been scary, not really -- and yet it was. It was just clothes hung on posts, a barley bag for a head, but it looked... wrong. Spindly, starved, and the eyes -- just holes in the bag -- looked hollow and dark. It was scary, even though it wasn't supposed to be. Then he blinked. The eyes weren't holes anymore, no longer empty and black. They were blue and clear.
Gabe's eyes.
He opened his mouth to scream when the scarecrow looked at him.
"You have to wake up," it told him calmly. He didn't understand how it could talk -- its mouth was just a rip in its barley bag head -- but it was talking anyway. "You have to wake up. You're in great danger." This was emphasized by a soft sound, a stalk of corn falling. Something was cutting it down... what, though?
"What kind of danger?" he asked slowly. The gnawing dread had turned into fear that twisted his stomach into painful knots. Gabe's eyes stared down at him.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you are in danger, and that you have to wake up." He shifted uncomfortably beneath the blue-eyed gaze.
"But I don't think--"
"You're not thinking very well, apparently," snapped the scarecrow. Another stalk of corn fell, then it seemed to soften a little. "Look, you need to wake up. Really." It spoke remarkably like Gabe, with the same bold stubbornness, and for some reason that sparked a flame of anger in him.
"I'm not going to do what you say until you tell me why I need to wake up!" And suddenly, the image flickered. It wasn't a scarecrow for one long moment -- it was Gabe, hung on the posts like some horrid representation of the crucifix. His breath caught in his throat until it was just a scarecrow again.
"Micah," it murmured through bag-rip lips, "Micah, my Micah. You have to wake up."
"Why?" He stamped the ground in frustration, angry again. "Why, why, why?"
"Trust me." That was spoken with a cold sort of certainty, and there was Gabe again, a horrible female Jesus. Then the scarecrow returned.
"Just tell me, please!" The corn was falling at a regular pace now; one-two-three, one-two-three... He wasn't mad anymore, just upset and frustrated and terribly, terribly frightened. "Please, tell me!"
"Wake up, Micah." The image flickered once more. Gabe was hanging there again, hands and feet nailed to the posts, a horrifying life-sized crucifix. This time, she didn't disappear.
"No!" He waited for the scarecrow to return. It didn't. He waited for Gabe to say something. She said nothing. Her eyes, still blue, stared upwards at the heavens. They didn't blink. "No, you have to tell me! Please, tell me what's going to happen!"
One-two-three, one-two-three...
"COME BACK!" He lunged at the crucified Gabe, seeking comfort in a body that was clearly dead. "NO, COME BACK, TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"
"...wake up..."
Micah awoke with a gasp, clutching the blankets beneath him in fright. He paused, realized where he was, and sighed heavily.
"Oh, God," he muttered, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. It was dark, very dark, and he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping. But judging from the headache he had and how heavy his eyelids were, it had to have been a long time. Micah glanced around the darkened room and felt an unexpected twinge of fear.
(where is everyone)
"Hello?" he said tentatively, eyes trying to adjust to the blackness. There was no answer. He opened his mouth to try again and stopped abruptly.
Pruitt was in the doorway.
It was Pruitt, and yet it wasn't. She wasn't wearing her ever-present nurse's uniform, but a white robe that looked like it belonged in someone's attic beneath a pile of old photo albums. Her mousy graying hair was in straggly strands on her shoulders instead of in her usual tight bun. She was holding the huge Bible, the small bag, and a candle.
"Nice to see you awake, Mr. Balding," she said crisply. Micah blinked in surprise at this ghostly-looking woman as she dumped her possessions on the bed.
"What do you mean?"
"You've been asleep for the past 12 hours." She smiled and turned to the cabinets, from which she produced a silver bowl of water. "A little sleepy, hm?" He frowned.
"How would you--"
"Know?" Pruitt set aside the bowl and picked up the Bible. "Think about it, dearie." Thoughts were fuzzy in his sleep-blurred head, but Micah figured it out.
"You put something in my medicine," he said incredulously. The elder nurse smiled again.
"Correct! I'm proud."
(Something is very wrong here.)
Micah glanced around nervously.
"It's so quiet," he mumbled, almost to himself. "There should be someone else here--" Pruitt raised her eyebrows, looking a little surprised.
"Well, of course there's someone here. Right over there. We need a witness for the baptismal, after all." Her last words would've startled him, but it was what she waved the candle at that shocked him into silence. Edith lay against the wall, head dangling limply on her chest. A syringe was stuck in her arm, one that Micah recognized as what had been used on Mr. Towers. His mouth flapped.
"What did you--" She waved a hand impatiently at him.
"Shut up," Pruitt snapped. "We need to get on with it." A bony finger was pointed at the bowl of water. Now the words she had said before hit him, and Micah tore his gaze from the unconcious Edith to look at Pruitt.
"Baptismal?" She heaved a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes.
"Yes, that's what I said. Come, now. We're going to baptise you, and then cleanse you of your sins." Pruitt smiled that tight, thin little smile. "We're going to make you acceptable in the eyes of God." He stared up at her
(she's crazier than I thought)
and swallowed. He was supposed to be brave at this point, he knew that, but fear was there nonetheless.
"And just how are we going to do that?" asked Micah quietly. Pruitt seized the bag.
"I'm glad you asked." She dumped the contents on the bedspread, inches from his non-existent legs. There was a gold-plated crucifix, a bottle of liquid (holy water, he assumed), a few more candles, a book of matches, and two knives. One with a cross on the handle, the other a silver angel. "We're going to have such a fun night!" Micah gaped at her, trying to contain the fear that was swallowing him up.
"You're not serious."
"Oh?" Pruitt asked calmly. "What makes you say that?" Ignoring the question, he swallowed thickly and countered with his own.
"How are you going to make me acceptable in the eyes of God?" She began arranging the items neatly on the bed.
"Well, like I said, we're going to baptise you. And, my dear, I'm afraid that you've already tainted your soul in this life. So, with a prayer, we're going to try again."
(Try again?)
Before he could ask, she was babbling on.
"We're going to give you another chance. Perhaps you'll start over again, or perhaps you'll go to Hell. Either way..." She shrugged as if she were commenting on the weather. "...we'll really be doing you a favor." Micah glanced about madly. This was serious. Much more serious than the priest, Mr. Towers, and the nervous nurses all put together. He could
(she's planning to kill me)
be severely hurt, or
(she's planning to kill me)
something worse.
"Nurse Pruitt," he said slowly, hoping his voice wasn't shaking, "you don't know what you're doing." Pruitt looked up, her eyes glittering, and what was there frightened him. Below the crazy gleam was a glint of sanity.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she replied stonily. She grabbed the Bible again, glared at him, and opened the book. "We're going to cleanse Satan's dirt from you, no matter what it takes."
Pruitt looked upwards.
"Lord, please bestow forgiveness upon this lost soul. He has strayed from the path of righteousness, but your gentle hand can lead him back." She seized the crucifix and held it before Micah, close enough that he could see the crown of thorns on Jesus' head. "Save this lost sheep! Cleanse him of Satan's mark and make him pure again!" He looked about desperately for an escape and saw nothing. And what was worse, he couldn't even run.
(I can't get out I can't get out I'm trapped trapped trapped)
"Help me," he cried, but his voice was so dry it came out as a croak. "Someone--"
"Lord Jesus--" Pruitt began again, and Micah let out a sob of panic. The scarecrow had been right -- he was in great danger. And though he had woken up, he couldn't do a thing about it.
"Someone help me!" he tried again.
(trapped trapped TRAPPED)
"--use your shepherd's crook to bring him back from the edge of eternal damnation--" Micah looked up at the babbling woman and sobbed again, fear and panic overwhelming him.
"Oh, God, someone help me!" Pruitt turned her sharp-eyed gaze on him and scowled.
"Mr. Balding," she said coldly, "if you continue shouting, I'm afraid we'll skip the baptismal and continue right to the finale." She looked back down at the Bible. "Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come--"
"Please!" he screamed, his throat feeling dry and raw. "Please, someone help me!" Pruitt sighed and looked down again.
"Stop making things difficult. No one can hear you." She continued preaching, and Micah suddenly began to do something he hadn't done in a long time -- pray.
(Please, God, help me. Please, don't let her kill me. Please--)
"--make him holy in your sight--"
(Please, please, please--)
"--and help him to understand your purpose--"
(Please!)
"--and his own." Pruitt smiled and reached for the knife, seizing it with bony hands. "We're skipping straight to the end, Mr. Balding. Sorry for the rush. I'm on a tight schedule." There was a pause. "Careful, now. This could hurt a little." Micah looked up, eyes wide.
(Can't you send me an angel? Just a little one?)
"Please," he croaked. She raised the knife with a smile.
"In the name of the Lord--"
(!!DEAR GOD, SOMEONE HELP ME!!)
And she stopped.
There was an odd noise, a grunt of exertion, that didn't seem to come from Pruitt. Then she screamed. It was a horrible sound, long and wavering, a scream of rage and agony. Pruitt dropped the knife and grasped the air for a moment, then fell face-forward on the bed. Something silver glinted in the moonlight. The other knife was in her back -- the one with the angel. And behind her, there was Gabe: face white, eyes wide, and tears streaming down her cheeks.
(I asked for an angel.)
"Micah," she croaked, and stumbled towards him, arms outstretched. She enveloped him in a tight, terrified embrace. Micah hugged back, too shocked to speak, and stared at the body beyond Gabe's shoulders.
(Well... thanks, up there.)