Chapter Eight – Poor Isabella
Amy walked out of the auditorium as several students bid their farewell and skipped through the halls rejoicing their final art class before spring break. She looked a bit tired and Amy was grateful that class had ended so quickly. Now that pesky interview…There was no possibility of getting out of it. The dean of Northwestern had made it perfectly clear that Amy was to fulfill her promises and since she had received the teaching award last month she was obligated to take this In-Depth interview. Her eyes carefully scanned the halls as she noticed more students leaving their classes and off to join their companions. I love Tuesdays…Amy smiled to herself.
Her feet ached a bit from standing and going over study guides and power points with the students. Every time she got one of these aches, it reminded her of the question she had been asking for the last four years: Why choose art as a profession? Yes, she had loved art in high school but never had it become a possibility of a career choice. And here she was…one of the youngest professors in Northwestern history…
She turned to her office, proud to see her name in bold print on the glass. Amy opened the door and was prepared to relax in her desk chair when she found someone else in the room.
"Hello?" she couldn't help but reveal the slight fear in her voice. The figure of the man sitting in the chair before her desk had scared the hell out of her.
From the back, he had short brown hair and he wore a plain white T-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He didn't sit with very good posture and he slumped in his seat with one leg over the other. A student?
The person turned around and Amy found that this man looked a bit old to be a student. Yes, he was good-looking, as she had been told. Amy knew exactly who this was.
"Carter Lynn."
The man before her smiled as he stood up and gave her a kind smile. He didn't look the sinister type. He had an oval face with large brown eyes and a straight smile. There was a scar above his brow. He wore some type of henna necklace tight around his neck. He had a fair skin tone – Amy guessed he was usually pale but it just so happened he had gotten some sun a couple of days ago.
He was surprised that Amy had said his name and he held his hand out to her. "Aimes Cromwell," Carter greeted. "Yes, I'm Carter Lynn. Here for your interview."
Amy did her best to smile as if she were actually excited about him being there.
"Nice to meet you Carter," Amy shook his hand and then quickly dropped it. She walked around her desk and sat in her desk chair smoothly. She sat up and placed her hands in her lap as she crossed one leg over the other.
Carter sat back in his seat. "Forgive me for not dressing appropriately. I've been running around – taking care of a few things today – there was no time for propriety."
"I would expect nothing more," Amy grinned. She was trying to make it an obvious joke but the look in her eye made Carter raise an intrigued eyebrow at her.
"So," Carter grinned he pulled a small black voice recorder from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Congrats on your award. You received it last month, correct?"
"Yes, I was given the Honorary Teaching Award for Professors," Amy explained professionally.
"Amy – may I call you Amy – it must be quite an honor. You're twenty-six-years-old and more successful than your colleagues."
"I'm not more successful," Amy explained seriously.
Carter nodded. "Of course. And might I add…you are quite an attractive, young woman. Does your teaching at Northwestern affect your personal life?"
"Not at all," Amy smiled. "I spend my free time with friends and I enjoy it very much."
"What does a woman of your stature do for free time?"
"Friends and I like to go to coffee shops. Book stores. Movies. Of course, shopping. I've recently started up a couple of karate and kickboxing classes. What can I say, I love life in Illinois."
"Sounds like the life," Carter winked. "You're from Kansas, right?"
Amy nodded. "Yes, I'm from Lawrence. I was born in New York but my family moved when I was about ten months old."
"Interesting," Carter grinned. "Kansas girl in the big city."
"I've enjoyed it very much."
"So, you've been teaching for three-four years now. Of course you're enjoying it," Carter noted. "What are other interests you have?"
"Can you be a bit more specific?"
"I guess this goes along with free time," Carter began to jot things down in a notebook he had sitting beneath him. He had the cap of the pen in his mouth for a while as he wrote and then he put his focus back on Amy.
"Sorry," Carter apologized. "Anyway…well…we'll save the free-time questions. Oh, okay, you're a twenty-six-year-old successful professor…most people your age are still trying to climb up that ladder. Do you intend on teaching forever?"
"As long as there's art in the world and people talk about it," Amy thought for a moment, "there's not a doubt in my mind that I'll still be around."
"Art is one of the many loves you have?"
"It's up on the top list," Amy smiled.
"Care to elaborate?"
Amy shrugged and sat back in her seat. "I'm a normal person. I love to go out and spend time with those I care about. I like to work out, do fun things…I thought the point of this interview was to congratulate me on my award and just ask a couple of questions about my life in the university?"
Carter smiled sheepishly. "Sorry…I can't stand that sort of thing. They're pathetic columns. I like to get the In-Depth on people. I want the people of Evanston to not just see the professor…they should see the woman."
"Interesting…" Amy confessed.
The man was about to ask another question when Amy's office phone rang. Thank God…Amy could feel what Carter was feeling…the reporter was quite anxious to get to his own questions fast.
Amy reached over and lifted the black phone to her ear.
"This is Amy Cromwell," she answered into the phone. There was a slight pause and Carter sat back in his seat and relaxed.
"Amy," Dean told her on the line, "Isabella showed up here – at Grammy's – and she was having one of those feminine-'oh-god-I'm-invisible' tantrums. She wants to go to the hospital now and since we have nothing else to do, we're heading over there now…and Grammy definitely CAN'T see Isabella…she can hear her…and she still doesn't even like that…"
"Oh okay," Amy stuttered back, trying to avoid eye contact with Carter. I need to get to Evanston City Hospital… "Look, I'll leave now and meet you guys there, okay?"
Carter's ears perked up. He was staring intently at Amy.
Amy nodded to herself as she ended the conversation.
"Who was that?" Carter asked curiously.
She stared at Carter with an apologetic look. "Forgive me, Carter. Interview is going to have to wait. That was my boyfriend. I have to go…I have a dear friend in the hospital and well…the situation is difficult."
Carter watched as Amy gathered her purse and briefcase and was preparing to leave. He stood up and asked, "Is there a way I can get into contact with you to reschedule?" He almost had a bitter tone.
"You have my office number."
"I was hoping to get a cell number," Carter asked gently. "You know, in case I can't reach you here."
Amy's head shot up from gathering her things and she tilted her head to the side. "Sorry, Mr. Lynn, you're going to have to make do with an office number. Good bye."
She brushed pass him and held the door opened for him to exit.
Once the two were out of the office and the door locked, Amy walked away from Carter before giving him an abrupt handshake.
As she walked away, Carter stared after her with the voice recorder in his hand.
"See you, Kansas girl."
O.O.O.O.O.O.
Dean drove the Impala and even with the Zeppelin music he couldn't enjoy the ride.
Sam sat in the passenger seat with his forehead pressed against the glass.
Isabella sat in between the two. She had been talking non-stop since she showed up at Grammy's.
It had been an awkward entrance. Dean and Sam were both eating when they suddenly realized the young woman stood before them with her hands on her hips and she looked like she was going to scream.
For some odd reason, Grammy was unable to see Isabella. She could still hear Isabella, but she could not see her.
Sam knew it was his dead mother and Jessica who were responsible for the three of them to see Isabella in the first place; it confused him why Grammy wouldn't be allowed to see her either.
Grammy sat in the back admiring the scenery and the car itself.
"And they just sat there…crying…well, Mom was…Greg's too macho for that…and I kept screaming and they wouldn't listen…they couldn't listen…" Isabella rambled on.
She rolled her eyes and Grammy, from the back, put her hands up to the sides of her head.
Sam turned to Isabella in a comforting way. He wanted to place a hand on her shoulder and coax her that everything was okay…but his hand would go right through her.
"Isabella," Sam whispered gently. His tone got her attention. He had said it so sweetly Isabella had actually taken the time to "take a breath."
"It'll be okay," Sam reassured. "Dean and I have handled many cases like these. Things even more complicated…just relax…we'll get to the bottom of this."
"And what if you can't?" Isabella gasped. "I heard my mom the other day talking to my step-dad on whether or not I should be put on life support for the rest of my life. I told them when I left to California that if anything were to happen to me…like this…I don't want to be a vegetable-"
"They're not going to cut you off, dear," Grammy reassured. "It'll take more than two-and-a-half weeks to convince a parent to allow their child to rest in peace. Be patient. We're almost there."
Isabella sighed and shook her head. "What if it takes longer…and Mom actually does what I hope she doesn't do…"
"We'll convince them otherwise," Dean tried to be helpful, but the asperity in his tone was obvious. "Just sit tight."
"I can't," Isabella almost growled.
Dean widened his eyes in annoyance. Just keep driving…
O.O.O.O.O.
Amy stood before the entrance of the hospital. She paced the pavement a bit watching cars pulling in and out of the parking lot. Watching two ambulance cars speeding away sent chills down her spine. A part of her was worried. Nervous. Almost sick.
She could feel her stomach churn. Head spinning. She could get in her car, drive home, and make a lame excuse to Dean why she had to leave.
Hospitals…
Her eyes caught sight of the black muscle car turning swiftly into the parking lot. She could see three people in the front and one in the back.
Just relax…and focus…everything will be okay…
Dean got out of the car while Sam opened the back door for Grammy. She got out slowly and stretched her long arms in the air.
From afar, Amy smiled as her friends began to cross the parking lot and meet with her.
Isabella was walking at a slow pace and she seemed to be moping by Sam's side.
Dean approached Amy and placed a hand on her waist for a moment as he leaned down and met with her lips for a quick one. She smiled at him and Dean asked, "How was the interview?"
She shrugged: "Okay. We didn't get to the questions he wanted to get to. I have a bad feeling he's going to continue to approach me."
"Ah, Amy," Grammy greeted happily as she came to the young woman and put her hands around her shoulders as she hugged Amy.
Amy embraced the old woman back and closed her eyes. Amy and Grammy exchanged a look and each woman held hands for a moment.
"I haven't seen you in several days, dear," Grammy moped playfully. "Been busy with the normal stuff?"
"You know how it is…work, not-so-psychic friends…"
"Ah, what's that like?" Grammy laughed.
Isabella looked around at the group and asked, "Can we please get inside now?"
"Yeah, c'mon…" Sam sighed as he and Dean led the way. Isabella followed close behind.
Grammy turned to Amy quickly and whispered, "Are you alright, dear?"
Amy stared at Grammy, almost pale, and shook her head.
The old woman nodded her head slowly and squeezed Amy's hand. "It's okay, dear," she whispered comfortingly. "I know what you're afraid of seeing. Remember. Focus. And maybe they won't bother you."
"I'm not worried about them coming up to me or bothering me, Gram," Amy whispered, noticing Sam was looking back and wondering why the two women were still outside. Dean and Isabella had already passed the glass doors.
"I'm afraid…of just seeing…" Amy gulped. "Just seeing makes me…"
"I know I know…" Grammy closed her eyes sadly. "But it's okay. Remember. Focus. This will be good practice for you… Be brave. Let's go."
Amy nodded slowly and, hand in hand, she and Grammy walked toward the entrance. The sliding glass doors moved automatically for them and they stepped inside.
Dean turned awkwardly when he noticed that Amy and Grammy had finally come inside.
"There you are," Dean sighed. "C'mon, we need to get to the fifth floor."
"Room 23A," Isabella added.
"Alrighty, let's go," Grammy added enthusiastically.
Sam turned to a nearby elevator and pressed the UP button. The four (well, five) waited patiently and when the doors opened two doctors came out with warm smiles and Dean, Sam, Amy, Grammy and Isabella had the elevator to themselves.
O.O.O.O.O.
Hero stood outside of her daughter's hospital room. Isabella's condition had not changed. She rested in bed flat on her back with a small white pillow beneath her head. They had one of those frosty blue breathing tubes in her mouth and other tubes going through her nose. The respirator beside the bed hadn't changed at all since Isabella arrived.
Her black hair looked so thin. The strands had been tucked beneath her head but some rested beside her face on the pillow. Isabella looked so peaceful. So calm.
So dead…
"Stop that," Hero told herself aloud. My daughter is NOT going to die…
There was a man sitting in the room with Isabella. Hero watched through the glass as the young man read the newspaper to her. Vic looked too young for his age – twenty-eight – he had boyish blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a blue T-shirt and raggedy jeans and sat comfortably in one of the hospital chairs. His voice was soothing. Isabella always said that. That's why it was his job to read to Isabella – keep her update on what was happening.
Hero sighed and hugged herself. The hospital seemed colder.
O.O.O.O.O.
They all walked out of the elevator at the same pace.
Except Amy.
She lingered for a moment and became brave enough to let Grammy's hand go.
Her eyes looked around the hospital.
Dean and Sam walked side-by-side with Isabella leading the way. They walked down a long white corridor and passed a waiting room. There were only six or seven people there, either there to see loved ones or there to see a doctor.
There were two nurses in the hall talking and a doctor passing the group by a hall.
So far they had seen less than fifteen people in the hospital building.
Amy counted thirty.
O.O.O.O.O.
Greg came to his wife's side and brought her a small cup of yogurt.
Hero brushed it aside and cringed. "Not hungry."
Her husband stared at her firmly and said, "You should eat. When Isabella wakes up, I don't want her to think you were sick too."
"Hun, I'm fine," Hero reassured weakly. Her eyes never left her daughter.
O.O.O.O.O.
The Dead like to linger. Sometimes death can be so tragic that the victims have absolutely no idea of what has happened. They continue to think they're alive. It is a fact that if spirits don't have a clue that they're dead, they tend to stay in the same place they died.
Doctors never realize how full their hospitals can be.
Amy had learned so much after the Natiskawa incident. What she had seen on the other side and what she learned from Mary and Jessica brought her to this sort of place. It didn't take long for the professor to understand why certain things happened.
She had gone to the funeral for that little girl Zoë Brooks. She had been one of the Natiskawa victims.
The funeral had been very nice. It had been a quiet day. Amy had not attended the church service but was at the graveyard when people began to arrive.
White roses. There had been so many of them. Amy could count more than a hundred white roses placed on the small coffin.
People even threw in white roses into the ground before the coffin had been lowered.
White petals flew in the breeze and Amy had seen some brush by her boots.
Amy thought she would have seen little Zoë, like she had seen her that one day in her classroom. Zoë wasn't there.
But so many others were.
The Dead are interested in people. They think they can talk to them.
Sunken eyes. Green, rotting flesh. Teeth missing. Sometimes an arm or a leg would be missing, even an eye. They would smile hideously at her. Their voices sounded like rasps. These people had no idea. No clue.
Amy had left the graveyard in a rush and had gone home to drink herself to sleep…
She walked down the hospital hallway and tried to avoid the eyes.
There was a little girl leaning against the wall. She wore a dirty flower dress. Blood-stained. Amy couldn't help but look at her. When the girl turned her head to stare at Amy, the young woman realized that half of the little girl's face had been torn off. Blood. Flesh. Tissue. Bone.
The sick feeling returned with a vengeance.
Amy quickened her pace and ignored the little girl's voice when she said, "Don't run in a hospital."
She joined Dean and Sam's sides and wrapped her arm around Dean's. He was surprised by this but allowed for her to grip his arm. Dean knew she hated hospitals. Especially after Natiskawa killed that little girl.
Sam couldn't help but notice. Dean didn't realize that as Amy had her arm around his, she had her eyes closed shut.
He stared at her oddly and then turned around to Grammy who gave him a look that seemed to explain everything.
O.O.O.O.O.
Greg had his arm around Hero as the couple continued to stare through the glass. Vic decided it would be a good idea to read Isabella the comics. The twenty-eight-year-old would laugh to himself a couple of times and would continue reading.
The couple didn't notice the small group that was advancing upon them.
Isabella, beside Sam, pointed and said, "That's my mother: Hero, and my step-dad: Greg."
Amy, a bit more calm now, approached the couple and Hero and Greg turned to her, sensing her presence.
"Hello," Amy greeted warmly. "My name is Amy Cromwell. I'm a professor at Northwestern University. I'm a friend of your daughter's-"
"Oh," Hero's eyes widened and she smiled. "Professor Cromwell. You teach art, correct?"
"Yes," Amy smiled slowly. "I taught your daughter her first year. I heard about her accident, I'm very sorry."
Hero touched her teeth and nodded.
"Has there been any improvement?" Amy asked.
Greg sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Hero murmured, "this is my husband Greg Lambert."
"It's very nice to meet the two of you," Amy replied kindly. She turned to her friends behind her and introduced: "This is my friend Sam and his brother Dean. And-"
"I'm Amy's grandmother, please call me Grammy," Grammy held her hand out to Hero and she shook it slowly.
Sam held his hand out to Hero and Greg who each shook it.
Hero eyed Dean and Sam and asked, "Are you friends of Izzy's?"
Dean shook his head and replied, "We've never met. Is it Mrs. Jamison?"
"Oh no, it's Lambert," Hero explained. "Isabella wanted to keep her father's name."
"Well, Mrs. Lambert," Dean explained seriously. "My brother Sam and I are sort of in the investigation business."
"We understand that Isabella's accident is somewhat of a mystery?" Sam added.
Hero nodded. "Police have told us that the car was damaged beyond repair. They have no way of deciphering a reason why the car crashed."
Isabella interjected loudly: "Tell them I would never crash the car – tell them I'm not suicidal – a police told them that there had been a possibility-"
"I'm sure there had to be something wrong," Amy reassured. "I've heard some stories and I KNOW Isabella would never have purposely crashed that car."
Hero sighed and smiled. Tears seemed to be forming. "Thank you…" she breathed. "We've…I can't believe it myself. But some…some are wondering how on earth it could have happened…and Isabella…now she's in this coma and-"
"We have absolutely no idea what happened and what's happening," Greg added sadly. "I love Isabella very much and I'd like to get to the bottom of this."
"Forgive me," Amy interrupted, "you two don't look like you've slept well."
"No," Greg chuckled weakly. "We've been here day and night looking after her when we can."
"If you don't mind," Amy asked, "I'd like to spend some time with Isabella, if that's alright. You two should get something cold to drink or at least go home for some rest."
"I don't know," Hero whispered worriedly. "I'd like to stay-"
"Dear, I like the idea," Greg added. "Please…we haven't had a good night's rest in two weeks…Amy is a friend…" Greg turned his attention to Amy. "Izzy told us a lot about you. She really respects you. She enjoyed your class very much. I have no problem with you visiting her."
Greg turned back to his wife and coaxed, "Lets get some tea from the cafeteria and then I'm taking you home to rest."
He seemed eager and almost excited that someone close to Isabella other than family was willing to stay with her a bit.
Hero turned to Amy and smiled slowly.
"Please, stay as long as you want," Hero smiled slowly.
Amy nodded and said, "Thank you. I'd like to visit more often, if that would be okay."
"Of course," Greg added. He turned his head into the hospital room and called: "Vic!"
The step-brother emerged from the room slowly and that was the first time Dean, Amy, and Sam noticed Isabella's body in the room.
"This is my son, Vic," Greg introduced. "Vic, this is one of Izzy's old professors. Well, not exactly old." He laughed.
Vic held his hand out to Amy and shook it slowly. "It's nice meeting you."
"They're visiting Isabella bit," Greg explained. "Let's get them their own time with her. Let's go home and get some rest."
Vic nodded tiredly and turned to Amy. He nodded slowly toward her and then he walked pass them.
Sam and Dean stared oddly after Vic but then they watched as Hero and Greg silently walked away. Hero was a nice woman and she waved as the couple turned the corner of the corridor and disappeared.
Grammy and Amy entered the hospital room. Isabella stood beside her body.
"Here I am…" Isabella stared sadly down at her unconscious self.
Amy and Grammy walked on opposite sides of the bed. They stared down sadly at Isabella and Grammy sat down slowly in a chair close to the bed.
"Amy, Sam…" Grammy whispered as she looked intently on Isabella.
Sam and Amy turned to Grammy and she whispered, "Place a hand on Isabella. Lets see if we can get some super-psychic reaction from her.
Sam walked around the bed and joined Amy.
Grammy slowly slid her hand in Isabella's hand. Amy held her other hand while Sam placed a hand on her arm. She felt a bit cold.
Isabella and Dean stood side by side in front of the bed.
Grammy had her eyes closed as she wrapped both of her hands around Isabella's.
Amy and Sam both concentrated as they touched the comatose body.
Moments passed before Isabella asked silently, "What's happening?"
Grammy, hands still gripping Isabella's hand, looked up and stared at Sam and Amy. "Are you two seeing or feeling anything."
Sam looked up at Isabella and stared at her sadly. He looked down at the arm he was touching and pulled his hand away slowly. "I'm sorry…I'm not getting anything."
"Amy?" Grammy asked.
Amy widened her eyes for a moment. "Umm…uh…" she tried slowly and kept her hand around Isabella's hand. "The feelings…" she stared and then gulped. "It's very strange. It's not a sick feeling…almost uncomfortable. Like a roller coaster ride. I don't understand it…"
"What are you sensing?" Dean asked Grammy.
The old woman looked around at the three and then her eyes focused on the unconscious girl on the bed. Then Grammy looked up at Isabella who seemed to be waiting for a good answer.
"There's a barrier," Grammy explained. "Very strong."
"A barrier?" Isabella asked.
Grammy nodded. "Dear, I can see your life…I could see the deeper details if I wanted to…but I'm trying to concentrate on what happened two weeks ago…"
"And?" Dean asked.
The old woman sighed sadly and explained: "I can see nothing involving the car accident. But there's this feeling…similar to Amy's…but apparently mine is a bit stronger."
Sam looked at her strangely and asked, "What do you mean?"
"I feel…" Grammy whispered slowly as she concentrated for a moment. "It's dark…something powerful…I can't break through. It's like…there's this brick wall…I can't see pass it…but there is this feeling…I'm not sure I can explain it." Grammy's eyes met with Amy's.
Amy sighed and stared down at Isabella's body.
The room grew quiet. Tense. Still.
Isabella stood in front of the bed and stared down at her own body.
"It's evil…" Amy finally gasped. Everyone in the room looked at her. Amy nodded as if she were finalizing it in her head. "I have to trust my gut…it's dark…strong…powerful…evil…someone or something is doing this to her."
Everyone exchanged a glance and stared at everyone.
"What now?" Isabella asked hopefully.
Sam sighed and stared at Dean. The two brothers were quiet.
O.O.O.O.O.
A/N: Will update ASAP!
I really liked "Dead Man's Blood" and now I'm excited that John Winchester is back into the whole thing. The whole family thing was very touching – Sam and Dean are so cute when it comes to their dad and family. I really liked the episode – although I didn't really enjoy that one scene with the vampires and the whole wrist-slicing thing – I mean "EEK!".