Chapter VI: Ripple Effect
It was a hospital room. Regardless of his limited knowledge of the world, Connor knew it as soon as he awoke in an unfamiliar bed in a brightly lit room where the air smelled sterile and the furniture looked strangely unused.
For a few moments, all he could do was blink up at the light fixtures on the ceiling as he tried to regain his bearing, but soon he realized that he wasn't hurting anywhere and that he was still fully mobile, even though his limbs felt a little stiff.
A small needle was strapped to his arm, connecting him to an IV tube that was supposedly feeding back lost fluids into his body – Wesley had explained most of it during one of his attempts at home schooling – and it took Connor a few moments to pull it out, but he finally managed to slide it out without tearing any skin.
He needed to find the other two, but he knew that trying to find them on his own would be futile, and he would probably only end up getting lost. He also realized that his own clothes were gone, and that he was wearing a pale blue hospital gown that almost made him laugh out loud when he looked down at it.
"Yes, hospital gowns can be like that," a woman standing in the doorway told him, smiling when he turned his head around to glare at her.
"Where are my clothes?" He asked, his voice perfectly cold. After all, it was the first rule of survival: trust no one.
"A nurse will be bringing them in for you. And we found a couple of things in that van you were in – we're going to need you to identify them for us later on. But for now," she continued, "sit down and let's talk."
"About…?" Connor prompted, arching an eyebrow. The woman watched him quietly, her eyes seeming to take a mental note of him as they moved. "The accident," she said, apparently watching for a reaction.
Connor sighed, trying to remember what had happened before he awoke – but his memories seemed jumbled, for some reason. "I don't remember it," he admitted finally, frustrated by the way his head ached the more he tried to remember.
"You might have a slight concussion," the woman told him. "It's perfectly natural in situations like these, and shouldn't last too long. I'm Doctor Horton," she added, taking a pen from the chest pocket of her white robe. "And your name is…?" She prompted.
He sighed again, knowing it would just be easier to co-operate. "Connor Holtz." Dr. Horton nodded, writing it down on the clipboard she had carried in with her. "All right, Connor, can you give me the names – and descriptions - of the others who were in the car with you last night?"
Connor told her their first names, but explained that he didn't know any of their surnames. "That's not necessary," Dr. Horton said, remembering the girls in room E327. "As long as I can identify them. Actually, I think the one you called Tyrone is in one of the next rooms, having a cut cleaned up. Amazingly enough, he doesn't seem to be hurt too badly."
When Connor wanted to know when he could see him, Dr. Horton told him that it might be a few minutes – first, she wanted to track down Bryce, and then she would see what she could do about getting his clothes back. Connor waited until she left the room to collapse in an armchair placed against a corner, running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit he had adapted recently.
It seemed as though his life had moved into slow motion and then suddenly jolted into fast forward, throwing him head-on into some sort of spinning abyss. Not that Bryce and Tyrone had become incredibly close to Connor during the few days he had known them, but without them he would be stranded in Sunnydale, unable to move forward or back.
And so, he waited. He waited, in fact, for exactly thirty-seven minutes (with nothing else to do, he had kept his eyes on the clock hanging on the opposite wall) before Dr. Horton re-entered the room. She was carrying a plain white plastic bag in which Connor found his clothes, neatly folded into a pile. "I found your friend Bryce," she told him, and her tone made Connor look up sharply. "And?"
"And… he was injured in the accident. When the van collided, the impact twisted the entire structure of the vehicle. Apparently, Bryce's legs were caught in the area underneath the dashboard when part of it collapsed on them." She watched Connor, but his face was expressionless.
"He was operated on, but it wasn't enough. He's still in a drug-induced sleep, but when he wakes up…" Dr. Horton sighed. It never got any easier. "Most of the muscles in his legs were completely torn. It's doubtful whether he'll ever regain motor functions in those limbs."
"You mean he won't be able to walk," Connor said, his tone more harsh than he had intended. The doctor nodded. "Yes."
"So he'll need a wheelchair? Permanently?" Connor couldn't help but feel angry for Bryce's sake; after an accident that barely lasted a few moments, he could end up lame for the rest of his life.
"Definitely over the next eight weeks. Then we'll check up on him again, and if there are any signs of improvement…" She sighed. "We'll see. But I don't want to get his hopes up too soon."
Connor nodded absently. Dr. Horton realized that he was no longer paying attention to her and was about to leave the room, when Connor suddenly snapped back into focus. "What about the others?" he asked.
She looked surprised. "Which others?"
"The people in the other vehicles – they were taken here, weren't they?"
"Yes, they were… Why do want to know?" Dr. Horton asked. Connor ignored the question. "What can you tell me about them?" he asked instead, feeling as though he had a right to know.
"Well, there were a group of girls and one other young woman – I've seen the girls, but another doctor is handling the last patient." When Connor's eyes clearly prompted her for more information, she continued, "one of the girls died about an hour ago – she had critical damage to her spinal cord that she couldn't have survived even if we had reached her in time. The rest are doing fine. As for the remaining patient, I believe she's in a coma; apparently she suffered some nerve damage and a possible concussion."
Connor listened intently without really knowing why. He didn't know these people, couldn't possibly care about them – but somehow, strangely, he felt connected to them. The accident seemed to have had some kind of ripple effect, involving more people than he had guessed at first – and being one of those directly involved made him wonder how the others were feeling and what was going through their heads.
"Would you like to meet them?" Dr. Horton asked suddenly. Connor remained silent for a moment, thinking it over, and the doctor went on to tell him that she had been planning on bringing those involved and their relatives together. "I think maybe talking to each other would be a way of handling the grief and shock that you're all probably experiencing."
It didn't sound like such a bad idea to Connor.
TBC.
