Chapter 10: Bridge over Troubled Warblers
Neal lets his right hand skim through the water. He smiled at Kate and tightens his left arm around her. She's sitting beside him in the small gondola. The oars lie unused at their feet. They're content to let the river guide them wherever it wants.
The rainforest is a slow-moving panorama in shades of tourmaline and jade. Kate looks like she could be a water sprite. She's clad in the same sky-blue silk dress she wore for their farewell dinner before he left for Oxford.
She rests her head on his shoulder. "I wish this trip would never end."
"It doesn't have to. We can stay on the river. Just you and me. We'll let the world flow around us."
Her response is a kiss. He could live within that kiss till the end of time.
Kate pulls back when the gondola rounds a bend in the river. A tributary leads off to their right. "Look!" she exclaims. "It's Arkham."
"In the middle of the rainforest? You're joking."
Her laughter sounds like the tinkle of bells. Stroking his cheek with her hand, she nudges his head toward the tributary. "Such a skeptic you are. What do you make of that?"
He stares in disbelief. Rising out of the mist are the familiar silhouettes he knows so well. He can make out Derleth Hall with its observatory and the university tower. The Church of St. Jude is visible on Prospect Hill.
Kate picks up an oar and turns their craft toward Arkham. "Do you see them?"
"Who?"
"Our friends. They're on the bridge, waving to us. Help me paddle."
He retrieves the second oar. The bridge is so far away. When had her eyes become sharper than his? Gradually he can make out the figures—Peter, El, Mozzie, June . . . Sara's there, too. As their boat draws close, he realizes they're singing. It's one of June's favorite songs, "Bridge Over Troubled Water."
He laughs and Kate does too. Sara is singing her heart out about a bridge over troubled warblers.
"She really is hopeless," he says and tells her about the other lyrics Sara muddled.
"You should go to them. They need you, Sara in particular. For her sake, for the world's sake, you have to teach her the correct words."
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not. Go to them, Neal."
He watches them on the bridge, singing and waving at him. Peter beckons to him. "You'll come with me, right? . . . Kate?"
When she doesn't answer, he turns his head.
She's gone.
"Kate!" He scans the water frantically. Surely he would have heard a splash if she'd fallen into the river. A bird soars high overhead. Its opalescent blue feathers shimmer in the sun. As the bird flies off, he hears distant calls. They sound like his name . . .
"Neal?"
He blinked. June was now in front of him. As his eyes gradually focused, he realized she was crying. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Don't mind those tears. I'm just happy to see you." She hugged him. "Welcome back!"
"Neal, my boy, I expect a full report as soon as you're up to it," Mozzie said, wiping his glasses. "Don't think you can go wandering off to unknown planets and leave us in the dark."
He scanned the hospital room. Had he been sick? Had it all been a dream? But they seemed to know about Merope as well. He lay back on the pillows, trying to piece together his recollections. "Is Peter all right?"
"He woke up before you," Mozzie said. "He's fine. You're fine. And I'm envious."
He attempted to tell them about Kate and the bird, but the words didn't make any sense.
"You must have been dreaming about the lyrics in the song," June said. "The silver bird in the last verse? You turned it into Kate." She clasped his hand. "That was your way of saying goodbye."
#
Sara rounded the corner of the ward, making her final lap. She'd been walking off her excess energy for the past fifteen minutes. June had urged her to take a longer break this time, suggesting she look for a book in the gift shop on the ground floor. She tried to find something but gave it up as a lost cause. As if she could possibly take time out to read.
Peter woke up hours ago. Why hadn't Neal? El tried to reassure her, but what did she know? Upon questioning, she conceded Neal's symptoms were the same as those of Thaddeus. What if he remained in a coma for years? Her stomach took another lurch. She could blame it on the gallons of coffee she'd consumed during the night, but she knew that wasn't the cause.
She tried to question Peter about what happened, but he wanted to hold off till Neal was awake. Was that an attempt to calm her down? It didn't work.
She passed a room reserved for families. No one was using it and she slipped inside. Before entering his room, she needed to quiet her runaway emotions. He was frighteningly pale. He could have been a statue, his breathing barely discernible. If the monitors weren't there with their reassuring beeps, she'd have thought he was—Stop that! She needed to be strong for June and Mozzie. They'd been there all night. June had taken a few naps. Mozzie claimed he never slept at night. Instead, he'd filled several sheets of paper with diagrams and scribbles.
Sara's stomach gave another lurch. She took a sip from her lukewarm soda to quiet it.
Empathy. That was her problem. She empathized with El and the stress she was under from having her husband on a distant, hostile planet.
Empathy. Who wouldn't be thrown for a loop at having a friend in the hospital? Emphasis on the word friend. This was her first time to see a friend hooked up to so many tubes. El said they were the standard number, but all those monitors? That couldn't be routine.
Nurses undoubtedly experienced the same emotions for their patients all the time. It was likely a syndrome. She intended to research what the name was at the first opportunity.
Empathy. That's why her heart was doing flip-flops. Neal had not gone from being a pal to the man who'd swept her off her feet. Not that her feet were the problem. Her heart never had listened to reason. Now it wanted to give itself to a man who wasn't interested in her and who was in a coma.
She took a deep breath. Careful analytical thinking would calm overwrought nerves. She'd already outlined her future. Stick to casual relationships while pursuing her career. Romantic entanglements were a distraction. She had enough experience to know that the men she dated all came with baggage and eventually messy breakups.
Neal's fake boyfriend status was just the ticket. They'd been friends for years. No worries about falling for each other.
Then, when she worked overseas in some exotic location, she'd be free to enjoy the occasional dalliance as her career skyrocketed. Emma Peel might have liaisons but she was always in control.
Was it because he was now Neal the Enigma? An interplanetary explorer, a man who might have alien blood flowing inside him? Or was it the sight of him lying helpless in bed? Whatever it was, it couldn't be real. It would be so unfair to subject him to her temporary insanity.
It was like she was seeing the world through a movie camera that had one of those weird filters on it. All she needed to do was remove the filter. Neal was going to recover. That's what El said. That's what Peter said. More to the point, that was what Lavinia said. What she needed to focus on was what she'd do when he woke up.
She leaped up from the chair and began to pace as she contemplated the disastrous scenario in front of her. If she acted in the least bit smitten, he would be confused and dismayed.
Her errant emotions were clearly caused by stress. They needed to be buried deep. Although . . . No harm in fantasizing for just a minute. What would it be like if she really had fallen for him? She'd continue to play the part of the friend while reeling him in. He wouldn't even be aware of what she was doing. Stevie Wonder's song, "Signed, Sealed, Delivered," would be her theme song.
She reached for a tissue and gave a good blow to her nose. A quick trip to the ladies' room to repair the damage, then back to check on him. Once he revived, she'd recognize this for silliness provoked by stress. Damn it, Neal, wake up.
When she arrived at Neal's room, she paused at the door, steeling herself for the sight of him comatose in bed. She needed to be in character. June and Mozzie mustn't suspect anything. Mozzie in particular wouldn't be able to resist telling Neal. She could feel her cheeks grow hot at the thought.
Taking a breath, she opened the door. "Neal! You're awake!"
He looked at her with those blue eyes that would melt anyone's heart—another transitory effect caused by him being asleep for so long. Soon they would appear quite ordinary. Pull yourself together. Don't blow it. He had a smile on his face, but it looked a little tenuous.
"It's about time," she joked, striding toward his bed. "Do you know how long you've been keeping us waiting? I don't want to hear any complaints on how late I am ever again."
Neal's smile broadened under the barrage of her banter, while June and Mozzie filled her in on what she'd missed. He'd only been awake for a few minutes. She was proud of herself. Even though she stood right next to him, she played the part of a pal superbly well. She brushed his hair off his forehead, but casually, like anyone might do.
June had called El, but she was finishing a test on Peter. She said she and Peter would come over as soon as they were done.
Sara pulled up a chair to sit alongside Mozzie.
"June, did you sing to me?" Neal asked.
She nodded. "I'd just finished 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' when you woke up."
"I heard you . . . in my dream."
"We were calling to you," she said, looking at him fondly. "Mozzie was singing too."
"Did you hear me?" Mozzie asked eagerly.
Neal grinned. "You were hard to miss. You were all standing on the Miskatonic River Bridge. Peter and El were there." He turned to Sara. "You were there too."
Sara's malfunctioning heart jumped at the thought she'd been included. "I probably sang the best."
"Not exactly. You were singing about a bridge over troubled warblers."
June broke through the laughter. "I'm sure that's not right. I distinctly remember troubled waxwings, not warblers."
"You're both wrong," Mozzie declared. "It was troubled woodcocks." He launched into song. He truly was as bad as her. That was probably why she felt so close to him. She chimed in to sing off-key with June singing soprano over them. It was immensely silly, but Neal appeared to enjoy it.
Just as they launched into their chorus of warblers, waxwings, and woodcocks, the door opened.
"Don't stop on our account," Peter said, walking in. He had a robe over his hospital gown and looked fully recovered. "I know how much Neal enjoys singing."
"You're okay?" Neal asked, his expression turning serious. It made Sara wonder even more what had happened on that planet. Would they attempt to hide their ordeal from the others? It wouldn't do any good with her on the case.
"Now that you're awake, I couldn't be better," Peter claimed, standing beside him. He looked as if he couldn't believe the transformation either.
#
Neal was glad El didn't insist on an immediate examination, but he knew it was coming. Even so, he made an effort to delay the inevitable, protesting that he was fine.
"You might as well give up," Peter advised. "It didn't work for me either."
June stood up. "Sara, let's go scrounge some breakfasts for these two."
"And for us, as well!" Mozzie called out. "Those candy bars don't count."
"Anything in particular you're hungry for?" Sara asked Neal.
"Anything and everything. I'm starving."
"Me too," Peter said. "Aside from a few blue apples we haven't had much to speak of for . . . well, I don't know how long."
"How many times did the suns set on Merope?" Mozzie asked eagerly. "How long did twilight last? I certainly hope you drew the night sky. When can I have your notes? Did you check if they survived your passage through the wormhole?"
"Don't get distracted!" Neal urged Sara. "Food!"
"Coming up," she said with a laugh.
He counted it a minor victory that he was able to convince El to unhook the tubes. He wasn't an invalid. Peter didn't have any tubes. He didn't need them either.
During the exam, he felt like he had two physicians. Peter studied every move he made. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, not able to stand it any longer.
"No, it's just . . . Your wounds were so severe, it's difficult to believe there's no lingering effect. In my head, I see what you looked like on the planet."
"You never described my injuries to me, but I knew what Sornoth had done. What was the damage from the ghasts?"
"You were bleeding internally, probably from a kidney, with a fever high enough that you should have been delirious. The blood loss from the puncture wounds—"
"Not now, Peter," said El firmly. "Neal, take a deep breath and hold it."
Mozzie let out an anguished moan while El listened to Neal's heart. "Why is the world so cruel to me?" Mozzie lamented. "I've yet to be in a wormhole. What marvelous creation can heal wounds and bring someone back from the brink of death?"
"Hush," El ordered. "You don't know how gravely Neal was injured."
"Peter's account is sufficiently precise. Each time they go through wormholes they're changed. Who knows what would happen to me? Are there other abilities you acquire with each passage?"
"Don't start with the hair-growth theory again," Peter warned. "I'm begging you."
With all the chatter going on, Neal hardly noticed the exam. He suspected El performed the bare minimum. She'd already warned him that he'd have to undergo a full battery of tests before he could leave the hospital. Mozzie filled him in on Lavinia's revelations. Her shapeshifting ability was the most shocking. It made Neal wonder if Phineas had disguised himself as well. He thought back on his professors at Oxford. Had one of them been Phineas?
Sornoth kept returning to his thoughts. Throughout the escape he'd been too drugged to be concerned, but not now. Every instant of the attack was etched into his brain. What else had Sornoth done?
El squeezed his hand lightly, returning him to the present. "I haven't found anything to contradict your assessment, Neal. How about setting Peter's mind at ease by demonstrating your walk?"
Neal didn't mind parading around the room even if he was in a blue polka dot hospital gown. He was in a semi-private room with two beds. No one was in the second bed to protest.
Mozzie's eyes glinted mischievously. "If you really want to prove to El you're okay, we should perform our dance."
"We haven't done that in years."
"What dance is this?" Peter asked.
He'd have to wait to find out because there was a knock on the door. June and Sara had returned with breakfast.
"Neal, now's a good time to get back in bed, and you too, Peter," El said. "There's an empty bed and you've been up long enough."
Neal didn't have a robe on and beat a hasty retreat. Peter, however, didn't give in so easily. When he raised his objections, El pointed to the bed like she was giving Satchmo orders. "No bed, no food."
While Sara wheeled the food cart in, Mozzie arranged the chairs between the two beds to form a semicircle.
"Suspiciously convenient to have two beds," Peter commented as El adjusted his pillows. "Did you expect me to crash in Neal's room?"
She hesitated for a moment, her expression growing serious. "I'd originally planned for you to be in the same room, but decided against it." She turned to Neal. "Lavinia was unable to provide any estimate of how long your recovery time would be."
"How much longer was I out of it?"
"About five hours, dear," June said. "We were all growing quite anxious."
When Neal heard the length of time, things fell into place. Peter's worry, June's tears. Sara's . . . What was with Sara? He'd caught her studying him several times. Was that nervous exhaustion or something else?
Usually she was unflappable, but not now. Her reaction made him realize how much he'd put them through.
Sara projected the image of being strong and independent. This experience revealed she wasn't as tough as she thought she was. He was touched by her concern. It also served as a warning. Extraterrestrials and space travel could be too unsettling for her. He and Peter had gone through it before. They'd grown accustomed to coping with dangerous aliens. Not Sara.
Was he being selfish? She'd had to put up with him as a fake boyfriend. Her abduction might not have happened if Chad hadn't seen the two of them together. Chad could have told the cult to put the hit on her. For her sake, shouldn't he distance himself?
Notes: Confusion reigns for Neal and Sara, and not just about the events on the planet and the intergalactic conflict going on around them. If you've read Nocturne in Black and Gold, you know that there are several matchmakers at work in New York City. Diana has been pelted with suggestions from El, June, Neal, and Sara for how Arkham Neal and Sara should act toward each other. In addition, Neal's cousin Henry has forged a secret alliance with El to plant his own recommendations. Who suggested what isn't easy to tell, and Diana is far too savvy to reveal her sources. She also retains full rights to twist any of their ideas however she wishes.
Peter had Diana add some references to Neal's stay in the hospital in California—more mind games to torment their foes. I wrote about the signals in my blog post: "Messages to Azathoth: Invisible Wounds." Is Neal truly uninjured or did Sornoth inflict hidden damage? El and Lavinia will discuss his condition later in the story.