Alex slowly woke up again-God, how many times was he going to do this?-and yawned slightly, his eyes cracking open against the crud that had developed over the lids. He stared blearily up at the obscenely bright flourescent bulbs directly above him, their brilliance almost seeming to stare back down at him and laugh as he struggled to wake. He made to stretch his arms, to draw them over his head and lock the fingers together, push straight up and crack his joints. However, he quickly noticed that he was unable to lift his arms more than a few inches from the surface of his bed. What the hell? He moved to sit up, to look at what was binding his arms, but his head was restrained as well, a thick but comfortable strap of heavy-duty material crossing over his forehead. He lay there and tried to collect his thoughts. Okay, first things first: where the hell am I? He scanned what he could of the small room he was in...hmm..monitors...sparsely decorated...generic colors...*sniff*ech! strong antiseptic...hospital room. That's right! He was in the hospital...he had arrived here...when? Jesus, he couldn't even recall what day it was.
He listened a moment, trying to pick up the sound of footsteps, of anything....and noticed the LACK of a sound. Where...what happened to the constant 'beep-beep' of the heart monitor!? Alex attempted to turn his head, managing a straining extra inch, and stared to his right, where the monitor should be...and wasn't. In fact, the only thing he noticed being paid attention to was his blood gasses and pressure. He suddenly caught a faint *click-whish*, barely perceptable, but there. He turned his head in the direction of the sound...and everything came rushing back to him. It was the artificial heart unit, the device the doctor's had rushed to hook him up to since his real heart had exploded. Dammit, what the hell was going on with him? First the extreme dream where he had awoken with glass sticking out of his body, then the series of dreams-within-dreams that had caused his...what? Heart attack? Stress-related pulmonary detonation? What was happening to him? He knew he wasn't going mad...he was well beyond that point.
No, if anything was happening to him, it was Death's doing. Bastard demon had been chasing him and his friends for so damned long now that he sometimes forgot just how strong the spectre could be when it wanted to. From the tiniest, most innocent occurence to the most extreme force of nature, it had stalked him and his new friends ever since he had survived that fateful plane explosion. It had screwed up...BAD...and was tying up it's loose ends, not caring how, but seeming to prefer the most brutal and unexplainable ways possible. So far, it had failed to kill him, no matter how hard it had tried. However, in his current state, he wasn't sure it would take much for him to go under finally. Considering everything he had been through already, he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing...NO! He couldn't give in like that! He had to keep fighting...for the others. His strength, his ability to see Death coming, had kept them all alive so far, and he was sure that if he DID manage to "bite the bullet", they would all fall like dominoes in a line. He couldn't let that happen...he couldn't let them all get slaughtered because of him. Alex cleared his throat, the dryness surprising him. Still, he knew he could speak, and he had to find out what was going to happen.
He flexed his hands until he felt the cable, the one that connected to the control that would call the nurse, and tugged it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing the device slowly up into his hand. He thought for sure that he would be screwed when it caught for a second on the bed railings, which were lowered because he was strapped down, but it came loose with a jerk, almost flying up into his hand. He managed to catch it before it went too far and depressed the button, a faint *ding* confirming that the nurse was on her way. A few moments later, there was a faint tap at the door and an attractive young woman-no older than Alex himself, probably-entered the room, her light red hair reflecting the bright lights. She strode over to the bed and checked the monitors first, making sure everything was okay, marking a few items on her chart. When she finished, she held the clipboard in both hands in front of her, looking down at him and smiling sweetly. Alex was surprised at how attractive she was...normally, these types of nurses were reserved for pornos, weren't they?
She opened her thin but full lips slightly then, taking in a quick breath, and spoke, her voice tinkling like a chorus of bells, background supported by an angelic choir. Damn, she had a beautiful voice.
"Yes, Mister Browning, how may I help you?"
Alex was actually speechless for a few seconds, then managed to force his voice, the dryness in his throat screaming at him as the air vibrated through his vocal chords. His own voice came out harsh, brittle, barely a whisper. "I...I..need...w..w.." The nurse suddenly nodded, then turned on her heel and practically bolted out the door. She returned less than a second later, rolling in a wheeled cart with a tray holding a handful of styrofoam cups and a large pitcher of water. She wheeled the cart skillfully to his bedside, then reached over and slowly raised the bed with the remote control. She only raised it half a foot, but it was enough for his head to be elevated for a drink. Alex sighed as he finally had a bit better view of the room, and suddenly wished he hadn't. Large, bulky, blinking and pumping devices were everywhere, leaving very little room for anything or anyone else. The nurse...Patty, said her nametag...poured a half-glass of the water and raised it slowly to his lips, tilting it enough to allow a slow, steady sliver of the clear fluid to meet his lips. Alex practically breathed in the life-giving water, letting it flow first into his mouth, saturating his cottony tongue, and then flowing slowly, langorously down his parched throat.
He had never realized how sensual drinking water could be until this day, but he was sure he could never go another day without drinking as much as he could. The glass emptied slowly, but it did empty. Patty lowered the white foam cup and replaced it on the tray. Alex watched the cup go away sadly, but realized that he actually felt much better. He croaked a meager thank you, to which Patty grinned and nodded, and then cleared his throat again, calling her attention. She looked at him expectantly and he finally voiced the question that had been burning inside him ever since he had gotten his bearings.
"What*heff*what is going to happen...to me?"
Patty's eyes suddenly became far away, drawn back, and her face took on a very scary professional look. "Well, Mister Browning, they are working very hard on procuring a heart for a transplant, but..." Alex interrupted, finishing her sentence.
"But, because of my...rare..blood type, it's difficult, right?" Patty nodded and looked back at his chart.
"It says here that, should everything go as planned, you should have the surgery the middle of next month, which is only a handful of weeks away."
Alex groaned...a handful of weeks? Stuck in this room, with all these damned machines, unable to move? Damn. And just when life was looking up, too. Alex sighed deeply and looked back at Patty, who was looking at him curiously. She seemed to catch herself and once again looked the part of the attractive, bubbly nurse she had been moments ago. Alex couldn't help but smile at her strength, at her beauty. She was a nurse, sure, but one of the good ones. "Is that all, Mister Browning?" Alex's smile faltered a bit, but he nodded.
"But please, call me Alex, okay? You make me feel old when you call me mister."
Patty gave a little start, and then laughed. If her voice and smile weren't pretty enough, that laugh was enough to make demon's change their religion. Still giggling lightly-she giggled?-Patty turned and started to head out of the room. Before she fully exited, though, she poked her head around the closing door.
"Alex? Would you like me to turn on the radio for you?" Alex nodded gratefully. Well, at least he had some tunes. No television, but tunes. Beggars can't be choosy, he thought.
She leaned over against the wall and fiddled with a small dial, faint clicks resounding oddly in the room as she adjusted it. It must have been volume, because the room slowly filled with some sort of adult alternative. Not his favorite, but it was fine for now. He thanked her again hoarsely, and she smiled at him again.
"No problem,sir. Either Megan, the charge nurse, or I should be in in another hour to check on you. Don't go anywhere now."
Alex almost laughed at the comment. If Megan was anything like Patty, he was sure that his stay would be a little bit easier. If only he could move his arms or something. Oh well. He leaned into the still slightly raised back of the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of his friends, the ones that were still alive, and the ones that had died. How is it that life could be so cruel sometimes, and at others seem completely worthwhile? If he could have shaken his head, he could have. Alex continued to stare at the ceiling while the music played softly in the background, something by Staind carrying its depressing and oh-so-sad lyrics into his head. He wouldn't fall asleep with the music playing, but then again, he didn't want to. He needed to think, and he needed to keep himself somewhat occupied deciding what he would do for the next few weeks.
Since he couldn't sit up or do anything too straining, he figured he might be able to find another patient to play chess-by-mail with. Alex had gotten into the game when he met another player online, and had instantly fallen in love with it. It allowed him the freedom of not wasting a full two hours on a complete game, but still difficult to be a worthwhile challenge. Yeah...that would be good. He might even be able to talk Patty into a game. If she even played...and if she didn't, he would be more than happy to teach her. Yes indeed, this might not be so bad after all. As long as he didn't die first.
He listened a moment, trying to pick up the sound of footsteps, of anything....and noticed the LACK of a sound. Where...what happened to the constant 'beep-beep' of the heart monitor!? Alex attempted to turn his head, managing a straining extra inch, and stared to his right, where the monitor should be...and wasn't. In fact, the only thing he noticed being paid attention to was his blood gasses and pressure. He suddenly caught a faint *click-whish*, barely perceptable, but there. He turned his head in the direction of the sound...and everything came rushing back to him. It was the artificial heart unit, the device the doctor's had rushed to hook him up to since his real heart had exploded. Dammit, what the hell was going on with him? First the extreme dream where he had awoken with glass sticking out of his body, then the series of dreams-within-dreams that had caused his...what? Heart attack? Stress-related pulmonary detonation? What was happening to him? He knew he wasn't going mad...he was well beyond that point.
No, if anything was happening to him, it was Death's doing. Bastard demon had been chasing him and his friends for so damned long now that he sometimes forgot just how strong the spectre could be when it wanted to. From the tiniest, most innocent occurence to the most extreme force of nature, it had stalked him and his new friends ever since he had survived that fateful plane explosion. It had screwed up...BAD...and was tying up it's loose ends, not caring how, but seeming to prefer the most brutal and unexplainable ways possible. So far, it had failed to kill him, no matter how hard it had tried. However, in his current state, he wasn't sure it would take much for him to go under finally. Considering everything he had been through already, he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing...NO! He couldn't give in like that! He had to keep fighting...for the others. His strength, his ability to see Death coming, had kept them all alive so far, and he was sure that if he DID manage to "bite the bullet", they would all fall like dominoes in a line. He couldn't let that happen...he couldn't let them all get slaughtered because of him. Alex cleared his throat, the dryness surprising him. Still, he knew he could speak, and he had to find out what was going to happen.
He flexed his hands until he felt the cable, the one that connected to the control that would call the nurse, and tugged it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing the device slowly up into his hand. He thought for sure that he would be screwed when it caught for a second on the bed railings, which were lowered because he was strapped down, but it came loose with a jerk, almost flying up into his hand. He managed to catch it before it went too far and depressed the button, a faint *ding* confirming that the nurse was on her way. A few moments later, there was a faint tap at the door and an attractive young woman-no older than Alex himself, probably-entered the room, her light red hair reflecting the bright lights. She strode over to the bed and checked the monitors first, making sure everything was okay, marking a few items on her chart. When she finished, she held the clipboard in both hands in front of her, looking down at him and smiling sweetly. Alex was surprised at how attractive she was...normally, these types of nurses were reserved for pornos, weren't they?
She opened her thin but full lips slightly then, taking in a quick breath, and spoke, her voice tinkling like a chorus of bells, background supported by an angelic choir. Damn, she had a beautiful voice.
"Yes, Mister Browning, how may I help you?"
Alex was actually speechless for a few seconds, then managed to force his voice, the dryness in his throat screaming at him as the air vibrated through his vocal chords. His own voice came out harsh, brittle, barely a whisper. "I...I..need...w..w.." The nurse suddenly nodded, then turned on her heel and practically bolted out the door. She returned less than a second later, rolling in a wheeled cart with a tray holding a handful of styrofoam cups and a large pitcher of water. She wheeled the cart skillfully to his bedside, then reached over and slowly raised the bed with the remote control. She only raised it half a foot, but it was enough for his head to be elevated for a drink. Alex sighed as he finally had a bit better view of the room, and suddenly wished he hadn't. Large, bulky, blinking and pumping devices were everywhere, leaving very little room for anything or anyone else. The nurse...Patty, said her nametag...poured a half-glass of the water and raised it slowly to his lips, tilting it enough to allow a slow, steady sliver of the clear fluid to meet his lips. Alex practically breathed in the life-giving water, letting it flow first into his mouth, saturating his cottony tongue, and then flowing slowly, langorously down his parched throat.
He had never realized how sensual drinking water could be until this day, but he was sure he could never go another day without drinking as much as he could. The glass emptied slowly, but it did empty. Patty lowered the white foam cup and replaced it on the tray. Alex watched the cup go away sadly, but realized that he actually felt much better. He croaked a meager thank you, to which Patty grinned and nodded, and then cleared his throat again, calling her attention. She looked at him expectantly and he finally voiced the question that had been burning inside him ever since he had gotten his bearings.
"What*heff*what is going to happen...to me?"
Patty's eyes suddenly became far away, drawn back, and her face took on a very scary professional look. "Well, Mister Browning, they are working very hard on procuring a heart for a transplant, but..." Alex interrupted, finishing her sentence.
"But, because of my...rare..blood type, it's difficult, right?" Patty nodded and looked back at his chart.
"It says here that, should everything go as planned, you should have the surgery the middle of next month, which is only a handful of weeks away."
Alex groaned...a handful of weeks? Stuck in this room, with all these damned machines, unable to move? Damn. And just when life was looking up, too. Alex sighed deeply and looked back at Patty, who was looking at him curiously. She seemed to catch herself and once again looked the part of the attractive, bubbly nurse she had been moments ago. Alex couldn't help but smile at her strength, at her beauty. She was a nurse, sure, but one of the good ones. "Is that all, Mister Browning?" Alex's smile faltered a bit, but he nodded.
"But please, call me Alex, okay? You make me feel old when you call me mister."
Patty gave a little start, and then laughed. If her voice and smile weren't pretty enough, that laugh was enough to make demon's change their religion. Still giggling lightly-she giggled?-Patty turned and started to head out of the room. Before she fully exited, though, she poked her head around the closing door.
"Alex? Would you like me to turn on the radio for you?" Alex nodded gratefully. Well, at least he had some tunes. No television, but tunes. Beggars can't be choosy, he thought.
She leaned over against the wall and fiddled with a small dial, faint clicks resounding oddly in the room as she adjusted it. It must have been volume, because the room slowly filled with some sort of adult alternative. Not his favorite, but it was fine for now. He thanked her again hoarsely, and she smiled at him again.
"No problem,sir. Either Megan, the charge nurse, or I should be in in another hour to check on you. Don't go anywhere now."
Alex almost laughed at the comment. If Megan was anything like Patty, he was sure that his stay would be a little bit easier. If only he could move his arms or something. Oh well. He leaned into the still slightly raised back of the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of his friends, the ones that were still alive, and the ones that had died. How is it that life could be so cruel sometimes, and at others seem completely worthwhile? If he could have shaken his head, he could have. Alex continued to stare at the ceiling while the music played softly in the background, something by Staind carrying its depressing and oh-so-sad lyrics into his head. He wouldn't fall asleep with the music playing, but then again, he didn't want to. He needed to think, and he needed to keep himself somewhat occupied deciding what he would do for the next few weeks.
Since he couldn't sit up or do anything too straining, he figured he might be able to find another patient to play chess-by-mail with. Alex had gotten into the game when he met another player online, and had instantly fallen in love with it. It allowed him the freedom of not wasting a full two hours on a complete game, but still difficult to be a worthwhile challenge. Yeah...that would be good. He might even be able to talk Patty into a game. If she even played...and if she didn't, he would be more than happy to teach her. Yes indeed, this might not be so bad after all. As long as he didn't die first.