The road to Jack's recovery was quick; even he was amazed at how quickly he regained his life. When he awoke the morning after the break in his three-day coma, his body was almost completely free of soreness. But, he was still very weak. He almost passed out when he removed the many life-sustaining tubes from his body, having particular trouble with the IV in his right arm.
He felt sick for some time, sitting on the edge of his bed to regain his composure. Fifteen minutes later, he was standing, albeit very unsteady. He slowly made his way to the large covered window across the room. His small uneasy steps reminded him of those of an old man who was losing his ability to walk, or a child just gaining that very ability.
Jack reached up and pulled a cord by the edge of the drapes. The thick, heavy fabric slowly parted from the middle, until the entire window was free of obstruction. The view that greeted him was fantastic.
The hospital in which he was staying was at the top of a hill, looking down on a perfect little town, the kind that one might see on a post card. The town was situated in a valley, surrounded by mountains. There were dozens of houses and shops standing in small blocks divided by two-lane roads. There was only one church, a beautiful white building. Its steeple towered high above the rest of the town. In terms of height, this was the town's largest building, but judging by shear volume, one other building reigned supreme.
It, like the church, was completely white, a beautiful building in this pristine town. But unlike the church, its dimensions were almost cubical. It stood two stories tall and its front was decorated with beautiful relief sculptures and huge Corinthian columns. Atop the roof stood a large dome, which was topped with a bronze statue.
"Do you find our little town to your liking?" Paula entered the room carrying a tray of food.
Jack stared out the window, still surveying the village. "Yes, it's very beautiful. The kind of place I sometimes find myself daydreaming about." He pivoted his head a bit, catching a whiff of what Paula had brought him for breakfast. He licked his lips and asked, "Is that French toast and bacon I smell?"
"Yes it is," Paula answered, placing the tray on the little bed table. "I hope you don't mind that the bacon is a little chewy."
Jack made his way back over to the bed much more quickly and easily than when he'd traveled to the window. He got back in bed. "Oh, that's the way I like it," he smiled.
"Good." She smiled at him. "Now," she said, "eat that slowly. You haven't had any solid food in your stomach for three days, and you don't need to get sick."
"You're the boss."
Paula smiled again, and left the room.
Jack stood in the hospital room's small bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror. He stared in a bit of disbelief at the face he saw. He had a long cut below his left eye, extending vertically about two inches. Another cut, much smaller than that under his eye, extended from his scalp to the center of his forehead. His hair had been cut in this area so this laceration could be treated. It looked strange compared to the rest of his hair, which was rather long and shaggy.
Nearly his entire face was bruised. His left cheek was red around the cut, while his right cheek was a purplish blue color. A dark blue bruise covered his entire forehead. The areas of his face that were not bruised were covered in hundreds of tiny cuts and scrapes.
Jack touched a hand to his neck, looking for any cuts there. He only found a little scratch, and a strange scar. He thought it odd that he had this badge of former pain because he didn't remember receiving a cut here in weeks past. Surely he hadn't received it in the wreck. There was no way that a cut this size could have healed in only four days. Still, he felt something familiar about it.
He forced himself to disregard the scar for now, and reached behind his neck to untie his gown. The garment dropped a bit, and he put his arms by his sides to allow it to fall more. When the collar of the robe reached his waist, he grabbed the fabric to stop its descent. What he saw as the robe uncovered his torso was unbelievable.
His entire chest was covered in red and blue. A long area of torn, cut, and scraped flesh extended from his left shoulder down to his right hip. A huge cut, partially healed, was in the center of this area, with a scab-covered hole at his heart. He had never had a wound like this. Never one this large. Never one so severe. He wondered how he ever survived his accident.
"Jack? Jack, are you in here?"
Jack quickly pulled his gown back up and retied it. He opened the bathroom door and returned to his room, where Paula was waiting for him. He cleared his throat and said, "Just in there, uh, admiring my handiwork."
Paula looked somewhat confused. Jack chuckled and ran a finger diagonally down his torso. This little illustration was all Paula needed to understand what he meant.
"Interested in leaving the room for a little while?" Paula stood behind a wheelchair.
Jack smiled. He hobbled to the chair and lowered himself into it. "Am I ever," he stated.
The journey to their destination was rather short, but not nearly short enough for Jack's tastes. He felt sick as the chair rolled down the hall, as he had not moved quite so quickly within the last few days. He quietly asked Paula to slow her pace, and she gladly complied. Jack was supremely happy when they reached their destination, another room down the hall from his.
He saw a large man laying in a bed identical to his. He glanced at Paula and asked, "Who's this?"
"This is Henry Lee," Paula answered. "He was found not too far from where you were."
Jack lifted himself from the wheelchair and approached the man. Henry's entire body was covered in bandages, concealing horrendous wounds. Tubes protruded from his mouth and nose. His breathing was extremely labored.
"Why'd you bring me here?"
Paula touched his shoulder. "He was a very bad man. He killed a few people while performing robberies in the next town, and was on his way here to presumably extend his crime spree."
"What's that have to do with me?"
"This horrible man, a total animal, was almost killed three days ago. You were too, but you survived. He won't. And there's a reason for that."
Jack stood silently staring at the murderer on his deathbed. He didn't know what to say.
"You're a good person, Jack. I know you're a good person. That's why you're alive and well, and he's going to die."
Jack swallowed a knot in his throat as nausea revisited him. He sat down in the wheelchair and whispered, "Please, take me back to my room."
The second day of Jack's recovery was much more active than his first. He was able to walk much more easily and quickly, and could even do a bit of exercise. He toured the entire hospital, which was rather small, and met nearly the entire staff of the facility. He even found the strength to journey outside for a little fresh air. He was still very tired from his ordeal, though, and decided to take nap after lunch.
When he awoke from his midday slumber, he was surprised to find Paula standing over him, eyes closed and a hand on his chest. She stood completely still and looked almost as if she was in pain.
Jack started to say something, wanting to know what she was doing, but something inside him said to stay quiet. He just lay there, looking up at her. He watched her face, which occasionally twitched or changed expression, for what felt like an eternity. Then, when she finally moved, he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
He could hear and feel her straighten up, moving away slowly. He felt her eyes upon him. Then, he felt her leaving the room, but could barely hear her footsteps; he knew she was trying to sneak away and not wake him.
Jack heard the door latch click shut and he opened his eyes. He put a hand on his chest, wondering silently, "What was that?" He didn't understand why she was doing whatever she was doing, why he didn't stop her, and why she was so secretive about it. He wanted to understand, but at the same time, wanted to keep it a mystery.
