Hellbox

30

KERRY

Awake again, aware again.

Eyes opening to slits, bright light lancing in to painfully dilate the pupils. She squeezed the lids shut, but the light remained like a pressing weight against the outer skin. Slowly, she raised them again, squinting. The same dazzle, but it faded quickly this time… and she was looking at white walls, white composition ceiling, TV set on a wall stand, a window covered with partly open blinds.

Sounds intruded, a low steady mechanical beeping. She was aware, too, of a clean antiseptic odor. And of something clipped to the index finger of her left hand. She turned her head. Wires, tubes, lights flashing on some kind of monitor, an IV bag on a stand. Hospital room.

She rolled her head the other way. And saw Bill sitting in a chair alongside her bed, his eyes closed, his big hands lying palms up on his lap.

Didn’t believe it at first. Hallucination, wishful thinking. Her thoughts were fuzzy, disoriented… but it wasn’t the same kind of body and mind disconnect as before. This was almost peacefully dreamlike. She raised her head slightly and blinked once, twice, three times.

The hospital room was still there. Bill was still there.

Acceptance came slowly, and with it, a kind of wonder. The last thing she remembered, and that only vaguely, was Balfour’s hands on her, dragging her out of the camper, lifting and carrying her into a dark place. No, that wasn’t quite the last thing. She seemed to recall a random thought, what might have been her last thought, the beginning of a childhood prayer: If I should die before I wake…

She tried to say Bill’s name, but her mouth and throat were too clogged to form it coherently; it came out as a kind of mewling noise. Immediately, his eyes popped open; he hadn’t been asleep, just resting. He came up out of the chair, emotions rippling like neon across his drawn, craggy face, smile on, smile off, smile on. He took her hand in both of his, leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead.

“About time you woke up.” Trying to keep his voice light, but it cracked on the last two words. “How do you feel?”

She managed a word this time. “Weak.”

“You’ve been out for a while. But you’re going to be okay.”

“… Fuzzy.”

“Drugs. Antibiotics, painkillers.”

Pain? Yes, she was aware of that, too, now. Her body, her arms and legs, seemed riddled with small, stinging hurts. One arm lay outside the bedclothes, gauze-bandaged. Her lips hurt; she licked at them with the tip of her tongue, winced at the deep splits and the taste of medicine.

“Thirsty,” she said.

Bill lifted a cup from an aluminum table, held it so she could sip through a flex straw. The water was lukewarm, and she had some trouble swallowing, but it took away the dryness and let her speak more easily.

“What… hospital is this?”

“Marshall. Placerville.”

“How long-?”

“Two days.”

Two days unconscious. “I… must be in bad shape.”

“Not so bad. Not anymore.” But the muscle that jumped alongside his mouth, the moist shine in his eyes told her otherwise. She’d come close to dying. And maybe she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Curiously, neither thought frightened her. Hospital. Bill. No, she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“You found me?”

“With Jake Runyon’s help. He deserves most of the credit.”

“Where? How?”

“Long story. We’ll talk about all that when you’re up to it.”

“Balfour?”

“He’s dead.”

“You didn’t…”

“No. Wasn’t me. Or Jake.”

Good, she thought. Good that it wasn’t you or Jake, good that he’s dead. I’d have killed him myself if I could, I really would have. But she didn’t put the thought into words. Her secret.

Instead, she said, “He didn’t rape me.”

“I know. The doctors…”

“Just… tied me up, kept me prisoner. Don’t know why.”

“Later. Getting you well is what’s important now.”

Her eyelids had begun to feel heavy. So damn weak…

Bill said, “I’d better get the nurse. Said to call her when you woke up.” He released her hand, started to turn away from the bed.

“Bill?”

He turned back.

“I knew you’d find me. I never lost hope.”

Kerry wasn’t sure if that was the truth or not, but it was what he needed to hear. And what she needed to believe.