Chapter 5

The playful and humorous banter between Jimmy and me after the professor’s departure had quickly changed to excited planning; the work we had done in our course up until now had given us both a good idea of what we were each going to work on for our final project – the marked assessment which took up the entire third year and accounted for 70% of the final mark. I had decided to work on a new games engine – the software bedrock upon which modern games were built - a decent engine would allow a much higher quality of game to be programmed onto it, better games meant more revenue. Jimmy’s idea was a little different though no less interesting in its scope; he wanted to explore the uses of modern gaming in other sectors – he was particularly interested in military training applications for combat or strategy simulations.

The rest of his visit had been spent in excited discussion, a few of the more logistical issues being resolved as we talked; we decided – for example – that we would move off-campus and get a place together, it would save on rent and allow us to help each other out with our work whenever the need arose; he had also made a not-too-subtle statement about knowing I wouldn’t complain if he brought girls home with him – Philippa in particular. But soon enough, it was time for him to leave.

“I won’t be here later,” he said, looking almost dejected at that prospect, “Philippa told me that you will be having your tests, she said it would be pointless coming to see you until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s ok, dude.” I smiled, not surprised in the least at the news “but kudos on actually speaking to her.”

“Any chance of you not doing any weird shit while I’m away?” he asked with a grin, ignoring my jibe, “You now, dying, spontaneously healing, growing another fucking arm, that kind of thing?”

“I make no promises.” I smirked.

With a laugh, a “later” and a shake of the head, he left the room. Now in silence, I cast my mind out to see what was happening around me. Becky was still busy with organizing my tests; Doc Matthews’ predictions had come true and Becky had already had to pass two uncooperative technicians on to the consultant for a thorough tongue lashing. Apparently Matthews was getting more and more pissed off with the lack of urgency shown by the other departments and was being less than subtle about vocalizing it. Further away, I could feel Jimmy making his way to the exit of the hospital, his mind swirling with an internal monologue full of excitement and relief, he was at least as happy with his place on the course as I was, probably more. Having a roommate he actually liked would be icing on the cake.

Funny; I always thought he was quite friendly with his current dormmates.

Further away again was Philippa, discussing my notes with someone I couldn’t quite read, I could tell they were paying attention, but the information was being absorbed into ... well ... into nothingness as fast as Philippa could dictate it. There was no internal monologue either, I would have to file that one away for later. Despite my healing progress, even I had to admit I was nowhere near physically capable of investigating for myself. But somehow, I was confident that the ‘Red Alert’ abilities I had activated would keep me safe if this mystery turned out to be something more threatening.

On the opposite side of the hospital, I felt another presence snap into focus. The young man there had never heard of me, at least not until his direct superior had literally dropped my file into his lap with a huff and stormed out of the fracture clinic – clearly he had been on the receiving end of a stern reprimand from Matthews. The man read my file before standing up, picking up his equipment and leaving the clinic for my room. I followed his thoughts as he drew closer, flicking quickly between mentally checking he had brought everything he needed, then to my case in particular and the possible reasons for my condition. Finally, to humming a song that had been stuck in his head since hearing it on the radio on the way into work this morning. ‘We didn’t start the fire’ was a pretty good selection in my opinion, but he had a less than working grasp of the lyrics

Harry Truman, Dorris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray.

Something, Something, Something, Something

Joe DiMaggio.

And so on.

His thoughts grew even more amusing as he stepped off the elevator and onto my ward; hot blonde on the phone – that would be Becky – the hotter brunette working at a trolley in the hallway ahead of him with the insanely nice ass – That one had to be Phillipa ­– Then there was the redhaired MILF at 3 o’clock – I guess Amy would certainly qualify as a MILF, but I wouldn’t quite call her a redhead and I was pretty sure she had already gone home – and Holy Fucking Jesus the absolute stunner walking out of room 416. He actually slowed down to take this mystery woman in, I could only guess – from the various reports I had heard – that Charlotte was on the ward.

He stopped and smiled politely at Becky, introducing himself before being shone that dazzling smile and directed to my room. Right on cue, the door opened.

“Mister Roberts,” the young dark-haired man said with a friendly smile, “I’m Dave and I’m here to take those casts off your legs.”

“Hey Dave.” I smiled back, as the man started talking almost instantly.

“Nice nurses you have on this ward,” he waggled his eyebrows playfully, “but they tell me your legs aren’t as broken as they should be, that right?”

“Err ... That’s what I’m told.”

“Well, let’s get these casts off so the fine people in X-Ray can take a look, shall we?” he smiled again, crossing the room and hefting his bag onto the table next to the bed. Rummaging around for a few seconds, he started removing various instruments and laying them out on a tray with methodical precision, the song never leaving his head.

Finally, he turned to me, his mouth and nose already covered in a facemask, his hands concealed inside blue surgical gloves and an ominous looking circular saw in one of them. I frowned at the implement. “I know, I know,” he said from behind the mask. “Looks mean but trust me, it’s all good.” Pressing something with his foot, the blade whirred into life, spinning with terrifying speed. “Don’t ask me how they make these things, but as soon as it touches something it isn’t supposed to, it stops.” He jammed the spinning blade into his own hand, the blade stopping immediately before he lifted his hand up to show me that it hadn’t even snagged his glove. “See? Nothing to worry about.” He sounded like he was smiling, but behind the mask, I couldn’t tell.

Swallowing the lump that had started to form in the pit of my stomach, I shrugged and gestured at my legs, tossing the thin sheet back “Well, have at it then,” I said with more bravado than I actually felt.

“All righty then.” He smiled again – I think – pulled up one up a stools, positioned himself over the bed next my legs and got to work.

Between the angle of my head, and his body hunched over my legs, I wasn’t able to see what was going on below the waist but a steady tingle of vibrations slowly ran down the outside of my right leg, then repeated themselves along the inside of it before he switch sides and repeated the procedure on the left. In a testament to the man’s skill, I didn’t once feel an ounce of pain nor did I hear the whirring of the saw stop for a single second. Fifteen minutes after he had started, he sat upright and pulled the facemask down under his chin. “And now for the big reveal.” He smiled up at me before his face turned more serious. “You need to try and keep your leg as still as possible, ok?”

I nodded and tensed my leg.

With a small implement that looked like a flattened crowbar, he pried open the seams he had cut into either side of my right cast, working the two halves apart with well-practiced precision until only the cotton wool between the skin and the cast held them together. With a few gentle but firm pulls the top half of my casts were finally lifted away. I found myself looking at my legs, they looked exactly the same as the last time I had seen them, but Dave’s thoughts told me something was wrong.

We didn’t start the fire,

It was always burning since the...

Err...

He looked down at his notes with a frown.

Sever Comminuted Displace Fracture, in cast for 9 weeks ... hmmm...

I didn’t have the slightest clue what any of that meant.

His eyes flicked between my half-exposed leg and the notes in his hand, as if the two didn’t match up. He picked up the charts from their place on the end of my bed, comparing details between them and the ones he had been given earlier: name, date of birth, address, all the details matched.

He looked up at me with a frown. “Err ... I’ll be right back.” As easy as his thoughts had been to read since he came onto my mental ‘radar’, they were now a muddled and confused mess of indecipherable medical theory. It reminded me of the thoughts I often heard from the nurses station that were filled with incomprehensible medical jargon. Dave strode out of the room; both sets of notes in his hands.

Another fifteen minutes later, he returned with Becky, Philippa and Doctor Matthews in tow. None of them said a word as the four of them stared in shock at my exposed leg.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked after failing miserably to follow any of their thoughts.

Dave seemed to snap out of it first. “Alright ... um ... look, the most of your leg is a muscle, right?” He started slowly tapping the back of his thigh. “That muscle gets a workout all the time. Walking, running, climbing stairs, even just standing upright keeps the muscle working ... you follow?” I nodded cautiously, one eyebrow raised. “So, when it is put into a cast and left immobile for any period of time, the muscle starts to waste away. So ... erm ... after 9 weeks, your leg muscle should be, like, gone! Like a broom handle wrapped in loose skin. Yours...” he paused, his eyes flashing down at my leg again, “Well, yours isn’t. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would say this cast was put on yesterday.”

I had assumed that the consultant would have been the one to share this information but Doctor Matthews was leaning over the bottom of the bed and examining my extremity closely. He ran a finger up the scar that could still be seen on the outside of my upper thigh, it tickled, my leg jerked sending him and the two nurses reeling back in shock, Matthews almost tripping over something as he went. It would seem that my nerves were working just fine.

Dave looked at the three on them incredulously, “Are you sure this is the right paperwork?” he asked, waving his notes at the pale faced doctor, “like really sure, there is absolutely no chance of some kind of fuck up with...” He looked back to me, suddenly concerned with his use of the expletive, “Some kind of mistake? Cos I’m telling you, that,” he pointed at my leg, “is not a leg that has been in traction or more than two months!”

The Doctor shook his head, “We know,” he said weakly, still unable to pry his eyes from my leg and still unable or perhaps unwilling to believe what he was seeing. “that’s why we called for more tests.”

“Hmm,” Dave nodded, taking another look at my leg and then one more at my face before turning back to the others. “Well, good luck with that.” He packed up his equipment and left. I decided I liked Dave.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes after the door clicked shut behind him, it was Matthews who spoke first. “Becky, how are we getting on with those tests?”

My gorgeous new lover looked flustered but managed to answer, “I ... um ... I have his X-Ray booked for about an hour, but ... err ... I was thinking of taking him down now.”

“Good,” the Doctor nodded, his shocked eyes never leaving my leg, “Very good, tell them I want the results by 1.30.”

“Yes, Doctor.” With a few more worried and tentative looks, the three of them left the room. Neither Becky, nor the others were anywhere near as concerned over my welfare as they had been earlier. All of them, however, we infinitely more confused about what was happening to me. Part of me was a little disappointed that Becky hadn’t given me one of her usual trademark smiles as she but I shrugged it off, smiling as I leant back into my pillow and lifting my newly freed leg, stretching it, wriggling my toes and not feeling more than a slight twinge of pain. This power was awesome.

It was almost 7pm by the time I was finally wheeled into my room after the tests. The orderly and one of his colleagues lifting me carefully onto the bed and I was left alone. A nurse I didn’t know came in an hour or so later to reattach the tubes to the power outlets on the wall and that was it ... for the rest of the god dammed night.

No Becky, no Philippa, no Matthews, no Jimmy, just me staring at the mother fucking ceiling!

Around 9 o’clock, I felt Becky take a nervous glance at my door from the corridor, choose not to come and see me and then headed home. Philippa did the same about half an hour later, minus the look at my door and the Doctor was busy pouring over my notes and the results of my tests a few floors above me. At least someone in the hospital gave a shit. In hindsight, I know it was immature and unrealistic to expect special attention from the nurses, especially after a twelve-hour shift, but I’m not going to lie, Becky’s choice stung. She was more than my nurse, she was my lover as well. I was pissed.

Utterly dejected and feeling furious, I retreated to my bunker and went to bed.

The next morning did not go well. Becky, wearing her trademark smile, breezed into my room before her shift started. “Hey, you,” she beamed, “How are you feeling?”

Her smile faded at my icy stare. “I don’t know,” I said plainly after a short pause. “How could I know? You all sent me for 6 hours of tests with an orderly who has forgotten how to talk, you wheel me back into my room and then all of you just fucked off and left me here! No, ‘How are you feeling?’ no ‘How did it go?’ no ‘You’re test result are in, we’re working on them’ nothing! I’m not expecting miracles; I know it will take time to work out what’s going on with me, but was a simple ‘goodbye’ really too much to ask? Fuck, I have been in here for 12 hours, it has been 18 hours since I spoke to anyone that didn’t involve the phrase ‘try to keep still.” All of you are so concerned about me but not a single fucking one of you even deemed it necessary to even stick your head around the door. Oh ... and that lovely TV on the wall...” I nodded at the plasma screen in the corner of the room, “may have helped, but no bugger has bothered to turn it on and I don’t know where the remote is. So yeah, other than that, I’m fucking peachy!”

My words cut deep; I could see that from the look on her face even without the ability to read her thoughts. With a hurt look, a furrowed chin and a solemn nod, her eyes met mine. “You’re right,” she said coldly, “Yeah, I should have come in to see you, I should have said goodbye before I left but I didn’t. What was I supposed to say to you? ‘All is well?’ ‘Test results come in and your hunky-fucking-dory?’ No! None of us has the first clue what is going on, and none of us know how to help you. I became a nurse to help people – I sure as shit didn’t do it for the money – and I don’t know how to help you! What’s worse, is that I like you! The guy I like, the guy I’m sort of involved with is one of my patients and I don’t have the slightest fucking idea how to help him, or even how to tell him that I don’t know! So yeah, I ran, I went home and hid from the problem and I shouldn’t have. there, feel better now?”

Yup, Pete, you are a god dammed genius! Way to fucking go!

“Shit.” I muttered out loud after a pause, as Becky looked at me angrily. “I’m sorry, I just...” I sighed and started to rub the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” A small twitch started throbbing behind my eye, growing steadily into a slight tingle as I spoke.

Becky’s eyes softened immediately, and her thoughts calmed from hurt to something more understanding. “You’re frustrated, I understand that.”

“Yeah,” I snorted, “Still shouldn’t have taken it out on you, should I?” I smiled bitterly, still angry at myself. “Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.”

“No, I get it.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’s one thing being hurt and not knowing what your condition is, it’s another thing all together to be in a room with no idea what is even going on and left there to stew. I should have thought of that last night. I should have come in to see you, I just...”

I just couldn’t face seeing you hurt, and I couldn’t bear to be the one that hurt you ... not again ... and no news is NOT better than bad news. Her thoughts finished for her.

“It’s no excuse,” I said, not willing to let myself off the hook that easily. The tingle was getting stronger “It isn’t your fault and I shouldn’t have snapped at you, you have been amazing, all of you have, and I’m acting like an entitled, selfish asshole. I’m sorry.”

Becky walked over to the side of the bed, leant down and placed a delicate kiss on my cheek, The intimacy and affection that small act far outstripping anything I had experienced up until that point of my life. “All is forgiven,” She smiled warmly “And next time, I’ll bite the bullet and come to see you. Can you forgive me as well?”

I nuzzled the side of my head into hers, reveling in feel of her warm skin. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

With another warm smile, she stood herself back up and looked at the watch attached to her scrubs. “My shift is about to start,” she placed a hand against my cheek, her thumb stroking me softly, “I’ll come back to see you later, Ok?” I nodded gently and watched as she walked away and left the room.

There was silence for a few minutes.

“Well, that went well.” Jeeves’ voice echoed in my head. “At least we know the mind influencing powers work.”

Hmmm, I nodded absently, still looking at the closed door. Wait ... What?

Apparently, Jimmy had been told to stay away for that morning’s visiting hours as well, the doctors expecting more test, though as my registered next of kin, he was invited to come to the hospital at noon for my consultation with Matthews. I had intermittently checked on the doctor throughout the night. The poor man had been working on my case until exhaustion had pulled him away in the early hours. Although I couldn’t understand any of the medical reasoning that was filling his thoughts – and there was a lot of it – the feelings of self-doubt and confusion had never really left him. He entered my room at twelve on the dot, with Jimmy and Becky in tow, a tablet computer tucked under his arm. After a few minutes of greetings and handshakes, everyone was settled, and the meeting began.

“Ok, first of all,” Matthews started as silence descended on the room, “Mister Roberts, I feel I owe you an apology.”

“Err ... you do?” The concern, bordering on panic, that had filled the doctor’s mind since the previous dat were now gone. Instead he was feeling something that I could only describe as optimistic relief. He was wearing the closest thing to a smile that I had ever seen on him.

“It’s a simple enough set of assumptions,” the Doctor continued as if I hadn’t said a word, “A patient gets hurt, he goes to hospital. The Doctors and medical staff tell him exactly what is wrong with him and how they are going to treat him. In cases like yours,” he went on, “things are done a little differently; in addition to the life changing injuries and damage to the brain, simply being in hospital and learning that they’ve only had a serious injury, but they have been in a coma for weeks is often enough to send a patient into a deep depression. In those cases, yours included, it is national policy to drip feed you information. We give you one piece of bad news, let you come to terms with it and understand what the treatment entails, then we move onto the next injury and so on. We have found that it helps patients deal with the shock much better.

“In your case, and for obvious reasons, that didn’t happen.” The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Nurse Becky has told me the frustration you have been feeling at being left in the dark. This is something I take full responsibility for but unfortunately, the rapid and inexplicable changes in your condition has given us no time to sit down and actually go through your progress and treatment plans properly. It wasn’t an oversight on our part as much as it was a response to a rapidly changing set of circumstances. But regardless, I apologize if that has led to any unnecessary duress.”

I stared at the doctor for a few moments; despite the formal and well-practiced tone, he was being genuine. “Don’t mention it, Doc.” I said with a smile and a slight nod, “You’re doing your job to the best of your ability. You’ll be getting no more complaints from me.” My eyes flashed to Becky, that statement meant for her as much as for her boss.

“I appreciate that, Mister Roberts.” He said, looking surprisingly relieved. “Now...” he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for this unpleasant task, “ ... I think it’s time we all had a talk about what is happening with you. I think beating around the bush is a bad idea here so I’m just going to give it to you straight. You were in a bad way when you came onto the ward. How you managed to survive the injury at all is one thing but surviving all of the surgeries as well is ... err ... well let’s just say it was unexpected. Let me be clear here, Mister Roberts: the level of the injuries you sustained were astonishing! By the time you were well enough to be brought out of the coma those injuries had been downgraded from life-threatening, but they were certainly still life changing. We are taking major neural trauma, significant spinal injuries, damage to several major organs and skeletal damage to the lower half of your body that, if we are being frank here, you never would have recovered from.”