A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 6
Jean felt consciousness return to her in layers, like the thin skins of an onion being peeled away one-by-one.
The first thing she noticed was a diffuse, stinging pain coming from her right arm.
The next thing she noticed was the smell. Not of smoke per se. But of something burning. Charred flesh, she realized in horror. Dear God, was it her own flesh?
She had to look. She had to know. But she was frightened. What if what she saw was even worse than her worst imaginings? Far easier to remain laying here, eyes closed. Maybe go back to sleep. . . .
She decided on a compromise. Slowly, she attempted to move her fingers. They were a little stiff, but otherwise easily obeyed her body's wishes. She gave a small sigh of relief.
"I see someone's starting to wake up," came a voice from nearby. It was a woman's voice. Pleasant, soothing. Almost . . . melodic.
"Nnnn. . . ."Jean murmured, blinking, trying to get her eyes to focus. "Wh-where. . . ?" Her voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears, her throat felt scratchy. She tried to speak once more, but the words were engulfed by a cough.
"Where are you?" the woman voiced for her.
Jean nodded.
"You're safe." The woman leaned over her, finally allowing Jean to get a look at her. She was young-mid-twenties, if even. And she was quite beautiful. She had smooth, creamy skin, rosy cheeks, a small straight nose, a round mouth curved up now in a friendly smile. Her eyes were unusual . . . a lovely violet that made the irises seem almost transparent. She had curly auburn hair that was pulled back off of her face, though an occasional ringlet escaped from below the white nurse's cap she wore. Lowering her gaze, Jean saw that the woman was dressed in a matching white dress uniform. Funny, she didn't realize people still wore those in this day and age.
"H-hospital. . . ?" Jean asked, trying to wet her parched lips.
"Here," the nurse said, reaching to the side. She returned with what looked like a straw, with a tiny sponge attached to the end. She used it to moisten Jean's lips. "Better?"
Jean nodded. "Still . . . thirsty."
"You're not allowed to drink yet. I can give you some ice chips to suck on in the meantime. Do you want some?"
Jean nodded again.
"Here you go," the nurse said, lifting Jean's head and feeding her a few ice chips.
"Thnks," Jean muttered around the mouthful of ice.
"You're welcome," she replied with a smile. That one simple gesture lit her entire face, made it practically glow. "Can you breathe all right? You inhaled a lot of smoke. We've been giving you oxygen supplementation." She gestured to the tubing that was inserted in Jean's nose.
"Breathing's fine," Jean replied.
"Good." She smiled again.
"Nme?"
"My name?"
Jean nodded.
"Isabella."
Jean smiled. "Jean."
"Nice to meet you, Jean. I'm going to change your bandage now."
As Isabella walked over to a nearby table, Jean took a moment to look around. They were in what appeared to be a small private hospital room. There was a single window to the left, and the blinds were closed. There was a solid door with no window on the wall across from her bed.
In addition to the oxygen tubing and the pulse oximeter that was connected to her left finger, there was an IV line in her left arm. She was finally able to venture a glance at her right arm. There was a gauze bandage lightly wrapped around her forearm. From what she could see of her hand, it looked unscathed.
The nurse approached, now wearing a pair of latex gloves. She pulled over a mayo stand, lowered it to just above the bed's height. She opened a sterile drape, and placed it across the small metal table's surface.
"Can you wiggle your fingers for me?" the nurse asked as she gently lifted Jean's arm.
Wincing, Jean moved her fingers.
"Good."
"H-how bad . . . ?"
"Not too bad," the nurse replied as she carefully began to unwrap the dressing. "They're only first-degree burns. You'll have some blistering, but it should heal with minimal scarring. Luckily, these seem to be the only burns you received." As she pulled away the last layer, Jean saw the bright red flesh of her arm and the dozens of fluid-filled blisters dotting the surface. She quickly looked away.
"What about Bobby?" she asked the nurse. "Was he hurt? How is he?"
There was no mistaking the way the nurse suddenly tensed. "Is that the, uh, man who was in the car with you?"
"Yes. Was he injured?"
Slowly, Isabella nodded. "He was hurt pretty badly." Averting her gaze, she busied herself by disposing of the soiled bandage.
"How badly? Is he going to be okay?"
"I- I don't know. He seemed to be in a pretty bad way."
"Oh God." She blinked back hot tears. "Can I see him?"
"They had to perform emergency surgery."
"It's that bad?" Jean swiped at her cheeks, wincing at the stinging of the IV catheter. "Was he burned?"
"Yes. He also sustained internal injuries. I'm sorry, but I really don't know more than that."
"Could you find out for me?"
"Once I've finished here."
Biting her lip, Jean nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Sure." Isabella busied herself laying out new bandaging material. Then she began to gently apply a bright yellow cream to Jean's arm.
"What's that?" Jean asked, watching her.
"Silver sulfadiazine. It should soothe the wound, help it to heal."
"It feels cool. Sure beats aloe." She gasped as Isabella lifted her arm to apply a sterile non-stick dressing.
"I'm sorry. Are you in a lot of pain?" the nurse asked.
"I'll be okay," Jean replied. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out as her arm was manipulated to place the bandage.
"You're hurting. When I'm done here, I'll add some morphine to your drip."
Jean drew a shaky breath as she looked up at the fluid bag in alarm. "Th-There's not any in there now . . . is there?" Suddenly it felt as though a concrete slab had been placed on her chest. She considered ripping the IV from her arm before the need to concentrate on breathing became overpowering.
"No, there's only dextrose supplementation." At Jean's ever-widening eyes, she clarified, "Sugar."
Jean gave an audible sigh of relief, felt the tightness in her chest dissipate. "No pain killers."
"There's no need for you to suffer, Jean."
"Isabella, I can't."
"But-"
"I'm pregnant."
Isabella's bright violet eyes widened. "Oh!"
"I'm sorry, I should have said something sooner." Jean looked at the nurse, thought she looked paler. Suddenly, her heart was in her throat. "Isabella, is everything okay with the baby? D-Did something happen because of the accident?"
"As far as I know, the baby is fine."
Jean reached out with her mind. And nearly panicked when she felt nothing. She could not sense the life growing inside her. "Oh God." Her hand instinctively reached for her middle. She tried again. Still nothing.
"Jean, what is it?" Isabella asked, walking closer. "What's wrong?"
Jean looked up at the nurse, tears in her eyes. How could she explain?
As Isabella placed a hand on Jean's shoulder, a thought occurred to Jean. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind toward Isabella, attempting a psi-scan. But once again, she sensed . . . nothing. How could that be?
She realized then that her telepathy must not be working. She looked at the bottle of salve on the mayo stand, tried to levitate it. It didn't budge even a fraction of an inch. No telekinesis either. What the hell was going on? Had she hit her head during the accident? God, she suddenly felt blind and deaf.
". . . please try to calm down," Isabella was saying.
The odds were, the baby was just fine-that she just could not sense it. But she had to be sure.
"Isabella, can we make sure the baby's okay?"
"I'll go speak to the doctor. I'm sure he can perform an ultrasound."
Blinking back tears, Jean nodded her head. "Th-thanks," she murmured, biting her lip.
"Let me go find him now."
"Thank you."
"I'll be back shortly." With another encouraging smile, Isabella turned for the door. Jean watched her leave. She was grace personified-she practically glided across the floor.
Jean let out a sigh and glanced down at her middle. Please be okay, baby, she thought as she lightly stroked her belly.
End Chapter 6