Christopher walked over and held the nice man, who flinched at being touched. It reminded Christopher of soldiers who listen to fireworks and can only hear bullets.
“Are you my dad?”
“No. I’m not your dad. Christopher, you need to go. Now.”
Christopher nodded and climbed the ladder. He reached the top step and put his hand on the doorknob of the tree house. He turned it.
But it was locked.
“Christopher, stop stalling,” the nice man said below.
“I’m not. It’s locked.”
“What?”
“The tree house door. It’s locked.”
“Oh, God!” the nice man said.
The nice man climbed the steps. He put his hand on the doorknob. He turned it with all of his might. It wouldn’t budge. The nice man’s face went white.
“NO!” he screamed.
“What’s happening?” Christopher asked. “Why won’t it open?”
“You’re still in the hospital on the real side. You can’t get back to your body. You can’t wake up.”
Fear pushed the word to Christopher’s throat.
“What?”
The nice man banged on the door, turning his knuckles bloody. He bashed his fists on the windows. The glass didn’t even bend.
“This is a trap. She arranged all of this,” the nice man said. “She locked you in.”
Finally, the nice man’s arms gave out. He stopped hitting the tree house and slumped over with bloody fists.
“But what does that mean?” Christopher asked.
The nice man turned to Christopher. Unable to mask his despair.
“It means you’re dying.”
Chapter 70
Beeeeeeeeep.
Kate Reese turned her attention from her son to the machines keeping him alive. They were suddenly flashing red.
Beeeeeeeep.
Before she could utter a word, the ICU nurses and doctor rushed into the room.
“What’s happening?!” she asked.
“His pressure’s dropping,” the doctor said to the nurse, ignoring her. “I’m going to need ten cc’s of…”
Thus began an assault of medical jargon that was too fast to follow. Christopher’s mother didn’t understand much, but she understood perfectly the doctor’s “polite” request to…
“Get her out of here!”
“NO!” she shrieked.
The orderlies entered the room.
“That won’t be necessary,” Nurse Tammy said. “She was just going. Please, Mrs. Reese.”
Christopher’s mother allowed Nurse Tammy to persuade her into the hallway seconds before the orderlies dragged her out kicking and screaming. Broken ribs or not. She stood outside her son’s room, trying to will herself through the walls.
“He’ll be fine, Mrs. Reese,” Nurse Tammy said gently. “It was just a sudden drop in blood pressure. They’ll stabilize him.”
After three minutes that felt like hours, the doctor came out and repeated what Nurse Tammy had said. Minus the compassion.
“Mrs. Reese, as long as your son is in the hospital, we are bound by law to resuscitate him, but I must say respectfully…”
Pull the plug already.
“…your son shows no sign of brain activity. He will never wake up,” the doctor said.
“Can I see my son now?” she asked, ignoring him.
His eyes narrowed to angry slits.
“No, Mrs. Reese. The nurses are turning the beds over. You can come back in half an hour,” he said.
“Half an hour for a bed?! Are you kidding me?”
“…or forty-five minutes. Your choice,” the orderly said, scratching his arm.
He wants an excuse to call security. He wants you to lose it, Kate.
Christopher’s mother saw the officious little look on the vicious little man. She wanted to punch him, but punching got her detained. Punching got her son killed. So, she swallowed her “fuck you” and forced a nod.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said.
I’ll get you out of here, Christopher. I promise.
Christopher’s mother set the alarm on her watch for thirty minutes. She didn’t want to be away for a second, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to waste this time. She ignored the pain in her side as she quickly made the long walk back through the ICU. She reached the end of the ICU hallway and waited to be buzzed out. She looked over as a nurse whispered to an orderly. Staring at her. Scratching. Their eyes swimming with thoughts. That’s the horrible woman who won’t pull the plug. We need that bed for other people. She saw Mr. Henderson, the librarian’s husband, in one of the rooms. He was sitting up in bed with his hands on his throat.
The door buzzed.
Kate walked through the waiting room of the ICU. Everywhere she looked, people were desperate. Yelling about how the cafeteria was running out of food. Arguing about which channel to watch on the television. They flipped back and forth between the CNN coverage of the Middle East and a Bad Cat cartoon.
“My kid wants to fucking watch this!” a man yelled.