Chapter 5: Recovery, Hospital Days 2 -3

As she readied an old person’s walker, she said, “I will make you a deal

David. You do your ten laps today, and I will buy you any candy bar in the vending machine. It doesn’t matter if you barf it right up or fire out the other end. Having to clean up that mess will be worth it to see you finally getting around on your own.”

Now that there is a candy bar on the line.

I always find I am getting in trouble because I don’t want to back down from a challenge. My body moved as I told it and I was soon there standing by the walker ready to do my laps. Kelly had my IV pole, so off I went.

Really? I didn’t even make it five feet! Argh!

Kelly just came behind me to get one arm around me and another under my legs as she pushed the IV pole with her foot. Either she was strong, or I had lost a lot of weight. She had no problems at all with getting me back up on my bed. A nurse holding a tray started laughing.

“You made it further than I thought after being in a coma for so long

David,” a nurse holding a tray of food said with a laugh. “You’ve been here enough to know the drill, David. Since you had a bowel movement and your pajamas are still clean, you are getting your menu upgraded. We have oatmeal, grits, liquefied eggs, and real chicken broth. We need you to eat as much as you can until you are full and then continue to drink the broth.

If everything stays down and your diaper stays dry, then you will get a surprise before you go play rubber ducky with Kelly.”

Kelly started to go after the nurse to tell her off, or something, but I grabbed her arm weakly to stop her.

“That was her warning me to not say anything to anyone about you when you help me take a bath,” I told Kelly. “I don’t remember how little I was at the time, but for some reason, they were bathing me with the kid sharing my room when out of nowhere someone tossed in this rubber ducky. The other kid and I made a huge mess trying to grab it first. When it was time for me to bathe again, there was no rubber ducky. I had a complete meltdown tantrum about refusing to take a bath in the tub without a rubber ducky. It had to be a real rubber ducky two, not that cheap hard plastic kind like they have at those dollar clearance stores. I remember playing with it until they dragged me from the cold water. When I got older, the nurses started kidding about playing rubber ducky with me. They couldn’t leave me unattended. I wouldn’t get out until I was tired of playing. Whenever I was finally well enough to take a bath in the bathtub my rubber ducky was there waiting on me.”

I could tell she was about to call bullshit on me when a nurse came to toss

Kelly a rubber ducky. It was a new one with red horns, white fangs, sunglasses, and black cape.

The nurse told Kelly, “Good luck getting that baby into the tub without his ducky, even as week as he is now. We don’t want David throwing a tantrum.”

I had started on the bowl of green Jell-O when Kelly tried squeaking the ducky. Instead of a squeak, it let out what sounded like a deep groan when she squeezed it and a scream as is sucked air back in.

“David, you have to wait to go play rubber ducky until after you make sure you aren’t going to need a bath again in a few hours. You are strong enough to hold onto a walker to wipe your butt on your own. No way am I going to be in there this time,” Kelly told me as she got my pants off, got me into the bathroom and then put the walker in front of me. “Plus I have to get me some lunch and take care of a few things. You have the pull rope right next to you for assistance. I will have a nurse check on you every few minutes.”

Every time I flushed a nurse would pop in to ask if I finished my paperwork. All, but once, my butt answered them before my mouth. I have no idea how long I had been sitting there before there seemed to be nothing left inside my gut to come out.

After wiping and flushing again, I managed to get myself standing and before shuffling myself over to the shower seat between the toilet and tub.

A nurse was watching from the door to congratulate me on getting over to the shower seat by myself. She told me that Kelly would be in soon to get me in the tub to bathe me. Once the nurse started the water in the bathtub, she came over to do the same thing Kelly had done to disconnect my IV. As soon as the tub was filled the nurse helped me out of my shirt and into the bathtub.

“I want my ducky,” I complained using my best childish sounding whine.

Kelly came in to toss it at the tub. She had squeezed out most of the air to make it scream at me until I finally reached it to push it down into the water to shut it up. The nurse and Kelly were laughing their asses off.

It is pretty funny. Still, I am going to get the nurses.

After going out to close the bedroom door, Kelly pulled her dress over her head. I got to watch as she put on her bikini bottoms before washing me head to toe, twice, before draining the dirty water out. Once refilled to a bit over the tops of my legs, she moved me to sit up with my back against the back of the tub before climbing in with me to lay back against my chest. My hands were pulled to her chest as we just enjoyed relaxing together. She got out first and made sure I was getting a good look as she pulled off her bikini bottoms. I was inches away as she dried herself between the legs, wrapped a towel around herself and then got me out of the tub. Once she had me dry, we worked together to get me dressed again.

I found more Jell-O waiting. I worked on that as while Kelly dressed. I saw her start to pull on her panties, but instead, she just put her thin dress back on. I did give her a look when she climbed up on my bed and sat cross-legged, knowing that I was seeing her pussy.

“As you said before, this kitty is out of the bag now. It isn’t like you haven’t seen it all now. Might as well let you see it as much as you want now so you won’t get hard every time you see one,” Kelly stated in a very matter of fact way.

It was the first time I have talked to any kids at school, at least that I remembered since I started middle school.

“So how long has school been out? There were only a few weeks of school left when I ended up here,” I asked her.

She replied, “We are already three months into freshman year.”

Was I in a coma over six months?

“All these people keep telling me that I saved the girls on the hill practicing tug of war. If I hadn’t run at the rope, they would have died.

Did I make it into the paper or get on any TV news,” I asked.

“Nope,” she replied, and I thought she was joking. “Well, nothing reported in any reputable newspapers or on any TV stations. Also, there were no tweets, Fakebook posts, Bluetube vids, or anything else. Everyone on the playground, their parents, teachers, and anyone who might have heard rumors about you received a court summons to appear at the school gym. They patted everyone down. No cell phones, audio recorders, and anything someone might use to records the meeting the police took away. All the lawyers ended up in a room where they could hear and see everything, but couldn’t talk to their clients about it. Some rich, big-wig guy walked up to tell us how important it was that no one ever know that you may have been hit by lightning a lot of times. This guy didn’t start into a long, boring lecture to convinced us why we should care. He put up a series of video clips where governments were testing people, like you, that lightning struck multiple times and lived. Some said the videos were fakes by conspiracy nutcases.

The guy didn’t even blink. He said it was up to us to decide for ourselves.

He showed them to us as a reason why we didn’t want anyone finding out about what happened to you because someone, from some government, would eventually try to kidnap you. They wouldn’t care about who they had to hurt or kill to do it. When the videos finished, he showed missing person reports for people who were struck by lightning multiple times. Groups of them went missing around the same time. None have ever been found still alive. Most of them have burns matching those causes to people when hit by lightning.”

That is

scary. Why would these people want someone like me?

A nurse, who came in with more oatmeal, said, “Kelly is correct about the meeting. As a nurse, I’ve seen my share of nutjobs with crazy stories to far out there to believe. I’m not a computer geek, but I can search the

Internet. It didn’t take much to find headlines about people who survived multiple lightning strikes. They were in the spotlight for a day to a few weeks. I had a friend at the FBI do a search on all of the ones in the U.S. that I had found. All of them were reported missing or found dead. The world condemned Germany for the atrocious medical experiments done under

Hitler to try to find a way to gain an advantage over their enemies. While we built the bomb, the Germans tried creating super soldiers. I don’t care why you ran at that rope. You saved those girls who would have died, gotten critically injured, or burned. The adults agreed to do everything possible to ensure your safety and keep their children from becoming collateral damage. Whenever anyone heard anyone talking about your accident, they were forced to watch the raw footage the man used to make the videos he showed in the gym. These were for two double lightning strike survivors. There were no ways in the video to tell how long these people suffered before their skulls were cut open to remove sections of their brains while they were still alive. Their bodies were autopsied and cremated. Transcripts from the videos explain, in intricate detail, how these people did this to ensure no other governments could collect DNA to further that government’s research. As a community, we renounced all knowledge of any details regarding anything related to your accident on that day.”

The nurse patted my hand and waited until I looked up at her, before she told me, “In any society, there are always the bottom-feeders who would sell their own families into slavery to get their next fix. One of your male peers had enough proof to secure a substantial retainer from three tabloids. Those tabloids bribed and weaseled additional confirmation details from other similar minded townspeople. One of the better-known supermarket rags managed to secure a federal court order to have your medical records examined by an outside team of medical examiners. In less than seventy-two hours, two dozen doctors and scientists examined every inch of your body and labs. All victims of multiple lightning strikes exhibited significant burns where the lightning boiled out the water along the path it took through of over their bodies. You didn’t have even the smallest pimple anywhere on your body. Combine that with the high number of confirmed lightning strikes along the path of that supercell, which spawned tornadoes, the fish wrapper’s experts said there was nothing there. That is saying a lot given how low that they set the bar for the level of truth required to write a story.”

“I bet you won’t believe that it was none other than our most famous middle school bully and his three little whores that give blowjobs for five bucks.

Each of them emailed the tabloids with their stories and gave your name. No one knows what happened to them after the tabloid people left. They aren’t here in town anymore.”

The nurse then explained, “I am pretty sure that the big-wig wasn’t bluffing when he said what would happen if someone caused people to come into town asking questions, especially if the government became involved. I only have purely unsubstantiated rumors about them going to for reeducation in how to be good little obedient children, at Gitmo. Their stunt got debates going on social media. A federal judge with nothing better to do found them. He signed court orders to send various three-letter agencies here to investigate child safety concerns, due to the town’s government appearing to ignore the accident. If those four children are in Gitmo, then they got off lightly compared to that judge. I’ve heard that he is in non-stop congressional hearings about ethics violations that surfaced as part of the Me Too movement. During breaks, the IRS speaks with him regarding substantial deposits in offshore bank and investment accounts. It seems he didn’t report any of that on his taxes. The judge’s recent troubles have been making the gossip circuit around town.”