Bloody Beginnings

by Laura Hysell

  I pinched my arm again, just to make sure I was awake before I moved toward the bed. The arms peeking out of the blanket were large, muscular and covered with hair. Okay, that’s definitely male. The IV liquid was silver in color and the man was hooked up to the liquid on both arms. I moved closer, squinting in the darkness at his face, sure I was mistaken about whom was lying on the bed.

  My heart was pounding in my chest as I leaned over his face, taking in the unruly brown hair, the strong jaw with a day’s growth of facial hair, and the large white bandage wrapped around his head. I gingerly reached out and touched his cheek, then let out a sob. Mark was alive! I wasn’t sure how, but here he was.

  Chapter 3

  Mark’s skin was covered with a fine sheet of sweat. I touched his forehead, and it felt clammy and slightly colder than usual, but he was alive! “Mark!” I whispered in his ear, shaking him gently. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I didn’t want to stay here and I certainly couldn’t leave him behind now that I’d found him. I pinched my arm again, just for good measure. This wasn’t a dream! “Mark, wake up!”

  There were no heart monitors or any other machines hooked up to him other than the IVs, so maybe that was a good sign. The bullet must have only grazed him, I thought, remembering the blood splattering across my face. Then I remembered the look in his eyes and how they had gone blank as his body had slumped down in his seat, held up only by his seatbelt. Then I’d felt pain in my shoulder and everything had gone dark.

  I touched my shoulder, pulling back the gown to look for any marks. There didn’t seem to be any wounds, so my guess was I’d been hit by some sort of tranquilizer. I frowned back down at Mark, pursing my lips together in thought. What was I going to do? Should I unhook the IVs? I had unhooked my own IV, but it hadn’t contained the weird silvery-colored substance that Mark’s did. What is this stuff?

  I stepped closer to the bags hanging on metal poles next to his bed, looking for something written on the bags that might indicate what was in them, but had no luck. There was nothing written on the bag, but maybe he had a chart. I moved around the bed, looking for a medical chart that might give me a clue as to what I should do next. No luck. The room was sterile and empty, devoid of anything that would lend me a clue as to what I should do next.

  I moved around to the far side of Mark’s bed and gently moved the bandage on his head, peeking underneath to get an idea about the wound. There was dried blood on the bandage, but as I pulled it back further I couldn’t find a wound on his skin. Wouldn’t there be a wound beneath all this blood? Getting bold now, I grabbed the wrappings and pulled them off his head. Dried blood was matted to his hair where the largest part of the bandage had been, but as I moved his hair I found no sign of a wound at all. After a few minutes I gave up trying to find a bullet hole and moved back to the strange IVs. Was the weird fluid in the IVs what was healing him? Was it keeping him asleep? Do I dare take them out? But he’s healed now, so I should be able to take the IVs out, if they are in fact some sort of healing medicine.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there debating, but eventually I figured I may as well take one of the IVs out to start with. I’m sure I could get it back in if I really needed to. Maybe if I can wake him up I can just take the IV bags with us. Sighing, I decided to just take the leap and quickly removed the tape from his left arm and pulled the needle out. Nothing happened immediately. Mark was still lying on the bed, breathing shallowly. For several moments I stood there watching him, praying I had made the right decision. I felt his head and I swear he felt warmer. Yes, he was warmer. His skin was already taking on a more normal color, instead of the sickly pallor he had moments ago.

  Taking it as a good sign, I ran around the bed and quickly removed the other IV as well. Fingers crossed, I scrutinized Mark’s appearance with each passing moment, watching the color return fully to his face. He began moving around slightly, and I scooted close to the bed, grasping his hand. “Mark!” I whispered once again. “Wake up!”

  His eyes shot open and I stumbled back as he rolled off the bed, groaning. “Mark, are you okay?” I asked, leaning down beside him as he curled his naked body into a ball on the floor, the sheets tangled around his ankles. “Are you in pain?”

  “Get back!” he growled, his voice threatening. His whole body began shaking, hands flat on the floor, head tucked in. It was almost as though he was having a seizure, except he was on all fours and seemed to be aware and talking. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the IVs out after all?

  After a few minutes he stopped shaking and his sweat-covered body relaxed onto the floor. I stepped forward gingerly and knelt down beside him. “Mark?” I asked tentatively, reaching a hand out toward him.

  “Don’t touch me yet,” he said, and I pulled my hand back quickly. His voice sounded almost normal, but he was breathing hard like he’d just run a marathon. “Just… give me… a minute.”

  I nodded my head, even though he couldn’t see me. After a few more minutes he took a deep breath and sat back, running his hands through his hair. My eyes were involuntarily drawn to his chest as the muscles rippled with his every movement. He wore absolutely nothing and I found my eyes transfixed on his body. His head turned toward me and I blushed, looking away quickly and standing up. Hopefully it was too dark for him to see how red my face was. “There’s probably a robe or something in here,” I said, rushing to the closet. My heart was beating quickly and my hands shook as I opened the closet doors.

  Just like in my closet there was a pair of slippers, but no robe. Instead there was a pair of long striped pajama style pants that I grabbed out and tossed behind me toward Mark. He barked a low laugh behind me, and I felt my face flush again. I am such a dork! I grabbed the slippers out as well and waited a few minutes before turning around and handing them to him.

  The pajama bottoms hung low on Mark’s waist, emphasizing his defined abs. He took the slippers from my hand, but didn’t put them on. “So,” he started, “where are we? And why are we in the dark?”

  “Um, I actually have no idea,” I began in a whisper, moving closer to Mark so he could hear me better. I looked up at his face, my eyes scrutinizing him for any signs that he might drop to the ground, or go into seizures, or something. He seemed perfectly normal. “As far as I can tell we’re in the weirdest version of a hospital ever. The walls are concrete, the floors are tile, and I think we might be underground.” I shivered, pulling my robe tighter around my body and pointing toward the window. “Take a look.”

  Mark turned and walked to the window, where a small amount of light was filtering into the room, just like in the room I had woken up in. He cautiously pulled back an edge of the curtain and peered through. He dropped the curtain quickly and walked back to me. “We need to get out of here now!” he whispered urgently, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the door.

  “Mark, wait,” I stopped, pulling against his hand on my arm.

  He let go of my arm and moved his body in close to mine. He lifted my chin, turning my head from side to side. He stopped, holding my head off to one side as he ran a hand along my neck. “Mother fucker!” he exclaimed. I jumped back, shushing him to be quiet while he continued to rant a trail of obscenities. “Damn, damn, fucking pieces of shit mother fuckers!”

  “Mark, shh, they’ll hear you!”

  “Let the mother fuckers hear me!” he roared, then continued another litany of colorful cussing.

  I ran to the door and held my ear up to it, hoping the doors were all as sound proof as they had appeared. I didn’t hear any running footsteps, so I hoped we were safe for a few more minutes. I turned back to Mark, who seemed to have run out of swear words although he was now standing with his head in his hands, breathing hard. “Mark, are you all right?” I asked timidly.

  “No, I am not all right,” he said tensely. He lowered his arms and stalked towards me, pulling me into his body and wrapping his arms tight around me. I breathed in his scent and listened to his pounding heart while
he held me tight. After a few moments he finally loosened his grip and I stepped out of his embrace.

  “So, you want to explain what that was all about?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s worry about getting out of here first,” he said, turning for the door. “I think I have an idea where we are.”

  He opened the door and peered out both directions before grabbing my hand and pulling me along behind him. “Where are we?” I whispered as he rushed down the hallway past the door I had heard the doctor in.

  Mark shook his head and put a finger to his lips as he stopped before another hallway branching to our left. He peered cautiously around the corner and took a deep breath. He looked back at me then pointed at me feet. “Off,” he whispered quietly. I nodded as I pulled the slippers off my feet and shoved them into one of the large pockets of my robe. The slippers had been making a slapping sound as we had scurried down the hall.

  Mark began jogging down the main hallway once more, pulling me along behind him. His bare feet made virtually no sound as he ran, but I felt as though I was stomping with every step. By the time we stopped at another hallway intersection I was breathing heavily, and loudly it seemed. Mark peered around the corner and pulled me behind him to the left, where the hallway ended at elevator doors. Beside the elevator was another door for the stairwell, which Mark pulled me into quietly.

  We stopped there for a moment, listening for any sounds before Mark began slowly climbing the concrete stairs. He paused at the next landing and put his ear up to the door, listening intently for several moments before taking my hand once again and pulling me up the stairs behind him. At the next landing he stopped once again and put his ear to the door. The sound of a door opening on the stairwell below us urged Mark into action and he quickly opened the door and pulled me behind him. He cautiously closed the door behind us and it clicked softly shut.

  The hallway we were in looked like a hotel, a fancy hotel. The walls were painted a pale golden color and the floor was a beautiful matching marbled tile that was shiny enough to view your reflection in. Beautiful landscape paintings dotted the walls, but I had no time to admire them as Mark pulled me quickly behind him as he rushed down the hallway. Doors lined the hallway with keycard locks on them as well as numbers on gold plaques stating 1045, 1044, 1043. We stopped at an intersecting hallway, then turned and followed the signs that pointed toward the lobby, walking at a casual pace.

  Mark reached over and grabbed my hand once again as the murmur of people talking grew louder. An elderly couple in rich clothes exited a room and stopped, frowning at us. The woman clutched her small purse to her chest as the man pushed her ahead of us into the lobby. We followed behind them, leaving a space between us and the couple as we entered a large lobby area.

  The high vaulted ceiling had a large, beautiful chandelier hanging down, casting a warm light on the room. Plush furniture in red and gold decorated the room, adding to the expensive feel of the hotel. The elderly couple turned toward a dining room, where the rich smells of bacon and coffee were coming from. Several people mingled near the dining room doors, casting glances our way. I looked at Mark, with no shirt on, and wondered what people must be thinking. It looked like the two of us had just rolled out of bed and come down to the lobby for breakfast. My stomach rumbled as we continued past the dining room and toward the massive front doors, where two large security guards were standing on either side.

  Before we reached the door the two security guards moved to block it, their hands reaching toward the guns strapped to their hips. “Mr. Andrews, Miss Howerton, please come with us,” the security guard on the left said, his hand resting on his gun.

  My heart was pounding in my chest, but Mark appeared suddenly very calm. He pushed me back behind him and stepped toward the security guards casually. Both men pulled their guns out, and guard number one leveled his directly at Mark. Mark stopped moving and held his hands out to his sides. Security guard number two replaced his gun and grabbed a set of handcuffs off his waist, moving cautiously toward Mark as guard number one kept his gun held steady.

  The security guard reached out and grasped Mark’s right arm, and as soon as he did Mark grabbed him and pulled him in front of his body. Several gun shots rang out, peppering the security guard and covering the ground with blood. People were screaming and running around as I watched transfixed as Mark threw the dead security guard at the other guard, knocking the man back into the wall. Faster than I could see, Mark had knocked the gun away from the man and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose with a loud crunch. Blood gushed from the man’s face as he tried to wrestle Mark, but Mark was a high school PE teacher and wrestling coach and he knew what he was doing. Within seconds Mark had twisted the man onto his stomach, pulling his arm back until it popped out of socket. The man screamed and Mark pulled back his arm and punched the man out cold.

  Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned to see five more security guards in uniform running towards us, guns drawn. Mark wasted no time grabbing my arm and pulling me out the front doors. We squinted in the bright early morning sunlight as we quickly ran across the parking lot, dodging through cars. A valet was parking a car and gasped when Mark ran up to the car, yanked the door open and pulled him out. Gunshots rang out and I ducked as I ran for the passenger door. Mark pushed the door open before I got there, and I jumped in and slammed it behind me. Mark quickly back the car up and zipped through the parking lot.

  I ducked down again as several more gun shots rang out, but nothing seemed to hit us as we sped out of the parking lot and onto the street. I was shaking and kept glancing behind us for pursuit as Mark raced us through city streets. After a few minutes I recognized the city we were in, just under two hours from our home town. Mark changed lanes and quickly took a side road, randomly zigzagging through the city, until we found ourselves downtown amidst a bustling Saturday Market.

  Chapter 4

  Mark slowed the car down as we turned into the downtown area, where street vendors lined the waterfront. We slowed down and parked the car illegally near the base of a bridge. Mark took a deep breath and turned off the car, leaning his head back with his eyes closed. “You’re not going to sleep, are you?” I asked after watching him like that for a minute.

  He smiled and opened his eyes, sighing deeply. “No, I’m not going to sleep. I just needed to stop and regroup.” He turned to face me, then reached out and caressed my cheek. I felt my heart flutter at his tentative touch and my cheeks warmed. I looked away as he dropped his hand. “We should probably dump this car, and get some clothes. Check the glove box and under the seats. Maybe we can scrounge some money.”

  After several minutes of us searching the leather interior of the car, we came up empty handed. The car was immaculate and obviously well taken care of. A quick look in the trunk only showed a spare tire. We got out of the car, wiping down the seats and anything we might have touched, and locked the keys in the car before walking toward the Saturday Market.

  Mark looked like he had just gotten out of bed, and I looked like I had just escaped from a mental institution. I kept brushing my hair down and looking behind us, while Mark casually strolled through the streets as though he knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing. A few vendors eyed us warily, but Mark had an easy way about him that seemed to put people at ease. We wound our way past the food vendors, my stomach growling the whole way, and down a side alley I would never have ventured on my own. Debris and glass littered the ground and I walked gingerly, even with the slippers placed back on my feet. Mark walked barefoot and seemed to avoid all the glass and debris, even though he was watching ahead of us and not watching the ground at all.

  We followed the alley to another small street that wasn’t quite as debris covered, but the walls of the buildings on either side were painted with gang graffiti. I felt a shiver up my spine and peeked behind us to see three young men following behind us. One of the men held a basebal
l bat in his hand, and they definitely appeared to be gang members to my mind. “Mark,” I whispered, moving close beside him. He nodded his head and stopped walking, turning quickly to the men behind us. Why were we stopping? All I wanted to do was turn and run very quickly away.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” the young man in the middle said. He looked to be in his early twenties and had dreadlocks hanging to his shoulders. He spoke slowly, his hands reaching casually into the pockets of his big puffy green jacket. “Looks like you twos escaped from a hospital.”

  The man with the baseball bat laughed, lifting the club onto his shoulder casually. He was bigger than the other two and had dark, greasy hair. I looked at the third one, thinking he looked more like a kid than a man. Pimples covered his face and he seemed nervous, his eyes shifting back and forth. His long hair was stringy and greasy and his clothes were about three sizes too big.

  Mark stepped toward the men, pushing me back behind him as he did so. “I could use some money,” Mark said as he moved slowly toward the three of them. “Why don’t you empty your pockets for me?”

  “Ha, that’s funny man, real funny,” the leader said, pulling a gun out of his pocket. “Why don’t I put a bullet in your head and take your woman?” My heart thudded in my chest. I did not like the sound of that.

  Mark put a hand to his head, where the bandage had been. “I’ve already had a bullet in my head, and it wasn’t pleasant, so I think I’ll pass. Let’s go with option B,” he said, moving so fast he was a blur. Mark simultaneously grabbed the gun with one hand, while slamming his fist into the man’s face, sending the man sprawling across the pavement while the gun spun across the ground the opposite direction. The baseball bat swung out, glancing off Mark’s shoulder as he rolled to the ground. He kicked out, sending the thug with the bat flying onto his back. Mark grabbed the bat out of the thug’s hand and slammed it into the ground beside his face. The bat splintered on impact, sending pieces flying. I covered my head with my arm; feeling pieces of splintered wood hit me.