Jake

I woke to the sound of people talking; listening a little closer, I could tell it was my parents.

It was strangely difficult, but I wrenched open my eyes to see I wasn't at home or anywhere else I would expect to be. Judging by the stiff, one-person bed, the cramped room, the sterile smell, the IV in my arm, and the constant beeping of an EKG machine… I was in a hospital?

My parents were off to my left; I found they weren't talking to one another, or anyone in the room for that matter; they were each on their phones with someone else. Scorch was also here, lying on Mom's lap as she petted him nervously. While my parents were distracted, his eyes were locked onto mine, which widened when he noticed me stir.

"Jake!" he barked.

My parents immediately ceased talking and turned to me.

"Gotta go." "Talk to you later," they said before hanging up on their calls.

They all rushed over faster than my reeling head could comprehend. Dad pulled my head into his shoulder and held me tight. "Thank Arceus you're okay," he said with a trembling voice.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asked, lightly rubbing my shoulder.

"Ugh, dizzy and nauseous," I said.

"No pain? Nothing feels wrong?"

"Not really… so why am I here?" I asked.

Dad released me after what felt like a full minute. Neither responded to my question; I kept looking between them cluelessly.

They must've thought I was joking before realizing I wasn't. "How much do you remember?" Mom asked.

I thought long and hard, but my brain simply couldn't bring much to the surface; probably a side effect of whatever they were giving me through my IV.

"Just that I was in the woods arguing with some kids."

"Well, one of them had a gun and decided to use it," Dad said with a hint of disdain.

What? I was… shot? I peeled back the covers and slowly removed an arm from my gown to find my body wrapped up, being extra thick in a particular spot near my right pectoral. There was also a thin tube going through the bandages on the very right side of my torso.

He made his way to the door. "I'm going to find the Doctor now that you're awake."

Now that there was an opening, Scorch jumped onto the stiff hospital bed. His face was a mix of emotions: sadness, glee, fear, and certainly anger. His eyes were glazed over… had he been crying?

I expected an earful, but he remained silent as he clambered up the bed, laid beside my torso, and gave me light nuzzles, whining all the while. I had to slide over to accommodate him, which brought a stabbing pain to my chest and made the nausea return.

"Oh… kay, moving is a no-go."

I let my left arm wrap around his body. "How long was I out?" I asked. The clock in the room read one PM. I looked out the window at the cloudy skies, and I was surprised to see Lana perched on the sill outside, sleeping. The backs of her wings near her claws were absolutely caked in dried blood… Was she hurt? What happened to her?

"About a day," Mom said, following my gaze. "Ah, yes, that pokémon outside may have saved your life. Seems like it wanted to stick around."

A part of me wanted to talk to her, but the rest just wanted to go back to sleep; my head felt like a piece of driftwood in the lake.

Before realizing I'd dozed off, a hand shook me awake. Dad had returned with someone else standing at the computer.

"Tired?" The doctor asked.

"Quite, yes."

"With how much blood you've lost, that's no surprise." He stepped away from the computer to face me. "I'm Doctor Keller; I work here in the trauma ward and will be overseeing your treatment while you're here."

I willed myself to stay awake while the doctor talked, but even that was a monumental feat.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, returning to the computer.

"I've been better," I quipped.

"How's your pain?"

"Fine unless I try to move."

Dr. Keller nodded. "That's not unusual; it'll be a while until your body heals enough to be comfortable to move on your own."

He continued typing away on the keyboard. "Now that you're with us for the moment, let's…"

A projector above my head switched on and began displaying what was on the computer screen: an x-ray of my chest.

"So here's what we're working with here," he said, pointing a red laser at the projection. "You can see the entry and exit of the bullet right here." The red dot circled a faint line running through my chest. "It didn't hit anything major that would cause irreparable damage, which is, of course, good, but unfortunately, it wasn't clean. It went through the top of your right lung, so we have quite the pneumothorax occurring, which we're already treating."

"How?" Dad cut in.

"Jake has a tube in his side that's sucking out the air that's escaping his lung. It's going to be a process, so he'll be going through something called supplemental oxygen therapy to help it heal."

"How long will that take?" I asked.

"Depends. It can take a couple of days or a few weeks; yours is more serious, so I'm looking higher in that range," the doctor said. "You'll be bedridden for much of that time; physical therapy will also be in order."

"How long until I can be released?"

Doctor Keller pursed his lips in thought, calculating. "I can't answer as of now, but we expect your body to heal itself. The bullet didn't stick around, so no surgery is required. The best I can give you is an uncertain 'couple of weeks,' the main holdup is that collapsed lung you have."

Well, that stinks; that was a chunk of my summer just… gone.

He talked some more with my parents. The next thing I knew, he was gone, and an attending nurse had taken his place. She took my blood pressure, recorded more information about my vitals, and replaced something in my IV.

"What's that?" I asked her.

"Morphine," she said before scuttling off. Well, that would explain the nausea.

Something whacked me in the head, startling me. Mom was next to the bed, holding what looked like a menu for room service. "Wake up! Order something," she said, dropping the laminated sheet on my lap.

"Man, I don't feel like eating anything," I complained.

"You need to eat something. Order a soup if you're unsure if you can keep anything down."

Relenting, I did what she suggested and pointed out a soup while Dad grabbed the room phone and ordered it. I was glad my seemed to be feeling much better now that I was awake; seeing them worried and upset didn't feel right.

Scorch meanwhile layed sprawled out on the bed with his eyes closed. I couldn't imagine what was happening in his head; I knew I wouldn't be doing too hot if I'd nearly lost him.

Bored and exhausted, I continued to pet him while my eyes wandered the room just to do something. I saw my clothes folded up on a side table beside me. I could see they'd been cleaned, but the shirt had a tiny hole in it.

I'd almost glanced over the red object behind the clothing. Reaching over Scorch, I found it was a pokéball.

"What's this?" I asked.

"That's Scorch's pokéball, isn't it?" Dad asked.

"No, I hardly ever take it out of the house, and this one's got something in it."

Disobeying the postings saying not to, I pressed the button and released its contents into the room. The small, quadrupedal form of a pokémon appeared before filling out into…

No way.

Zorua lit up when he saw me but shrank when he saw he wasn't in the forest. "Where am I?" he asked. "Where's Mom?"

I reached a hand down and petted his head. He gingerly accepted, but it didn't do much for his anxiousness, though.

"Well, that's not right," Mom said. "We'll have to mention that they gave us someone's pokémon by mistake."

"No, there's no mistake; he's my pokémon," I said.

Mom gave me a look of confusion. "I'll explain later," I assured her.

Zorua also didn't seem to take to the presence of other humans. I decided he was better off inside the ball for the time being, so I returned him and set it back where I'd found it.

Food arrived not too long afterward. The soup came with crackers and a side of grilled cheese sandwich, cut in half.

"Aren't you guys going to eat something?" I asked.

"You kidding? Your food is covered under insurance; I'll go get us something from somewhere later," Dad said.

Right, there was that.

I crushed the crackers into bits and poured them into the soup. Taking half of the sandwich, I dunked that in, too, until it was soggy and took a bite.

"Needs more salt, but not bad."

I finished my half and fed the other half to Scorch. He was reluctant but ultimately accepted it.

After finishing the soup, I must've fallen asleep again. The next couple hours were a haze; I remembered seeing the three guys, my aunt and uncle who lived nearby, and my parents said Sonia and her grandparents came and left flowers that now rested beside my folded clothes. I couldn't remember anything of much substance from their visit… I'd have to apologize later for being so rude.

It was about eight-thrity when I woke up to my parents arguing.

"…swear I will if I ever find those kids that did this," Henry said.

"Two wrongs don't make a right, so I would stop right there," Emily warned.

"When it regards to my family, it sure does."

"Hey, what's this about?" I asked.

They both looked my way. "Sorry for disturbing you; we were just having a conversation," Dad said.

I wasn't ten anymore; they were fighting over something, but it was against my best interests to drag it on, so I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels to give us somethign better to do.

We ended up catching the tail-end of a Unovan movie starring their famous Brycen. He played a character who lived the high-life by day, but donned a mask and hopped rooftops fighting crime at night with the help of his many useful gadgets.

I didn't worry about spoiling it; we've seen this one many times, as it was the first of many in the massively successful series. It would be harder to find someone who hasn't seen it.

Once nine o-clock hit, the next in the series started rolling, but a commotion outside the door turned my head.

"Sir, visiting hours are closing…"

"Bah, I won't be long, promise."

That voice was familiar. The door opened to Smith on the other side, not even bothering to knock.

"Mr. Smith, what are you doing here?" Mom asked.

"Just needing to know that Jake here is doing okay," he said.

My parents both looked confused. "I didn't tell him, did you?"

"No…"

"Word gets around in that small town," Smith said, approaching the bed.

"Sorry these things had to happen, son. How are you doing?"

"Well, I'm alive, so that speaks for itself, doesn't it?"

Smith smiled and nodded. "That it does, I s'pose; how long do they think you'll be in here?"

"'As long as it takes' is basically the answer we're getting," I said. "Apparently, my lung collapsed, which needs to heal first… so not today."

"Can't rush a job done right," he said before checking the clock; someone would probably come to kick him out if he didn't hurry. "Well, son, just stopped in to say hello. Glad to see yer doin' alright. My pokémon are worried sick about you, so get well soon, y'hear?"

He gave me a pat on the shoulder before quickly ambling out. Well, that was strange, even for him. I didn't mind that he came to visit, but something about that just felt a little… off.

Something subtly sharp poked at my arm; I looked to see it was the corner of a torn sheet of loose-leaf paper.

Seeing that my parents were talking amongst themselves, I picked it up and held it underneath the covers. On one side was a handwritten note with overly neat handwriting that I could barely read.

We saw everything; you're a brave kid.

Come see me when you're out; I'll explain everything.

The message was cryptic, but something inside me was satisfied. I knew Smith knew more about the happenings around here, especially after he dodged my questions during my visits. Folding up the paper, I quietly slipped it into my folded clothes nearby.

When I was out, I would learn everything that was going on: where the pokémon went, why they were after Lana, and what I could do about these things.

I took a deep breath; I couldn't help but feel this was the start of something big.