by Jon Davis
I said, “Oh yes it knocked us silly. We were positively shocked and stunned by his radiance.”
Kirksten snorted at the weak joke. “You may be joking, but that’s actually closer to the truth than you might think, young man. The issues we dealt with you two were primarily neural. You both were feverish, and both your nervous systems were extremely erratic. I still don’t know what caused it, but whatever it was that Alex Shaw did, it made people sick across the planet.
“And some have died,” Nurse Wells commented.
Kirksten snapped his head around and glared at her. He said, “That doesn’t need to be discussed right now, does it, nurse?”
I looked at her, then at him. But they said nothing more about any other victims. They also hadn’t mentioned one other important thing. I said, “Did Alex make it back? He should be able to explain what he did.”
Wells may not have liked what happened where Alex was concerned, but she glanced over at me with a sad expression. That was more than enough of an answer. Dr. Kirksten sighed and said with a supportive touch to my left shoulder, “No, I’m sorry, Vaughn. He’s presumed dead. He never returned.”
Damn.
It wasn’t as though I really expected to see him walk in with a smile. I sighed, realizing that I was kidding myself. Alex hardly ever smiled. But it would’ve been nice to see him again. I was going to miss our talks and his smokes. But he was dead, and yet, he had saved the world. I hoped he was at peace.
“Are our parents here?” Brand asked. I looked at Kirksten, waiting for an answer.
The doctor nodded and said, “Yes, and I’ll be sending them in, but they can stay only for a few minutes, though. I don’t want either of you any more exhausted than you already are, though. Is that clear?”
I nodded, and, with his help, I took another sip of the water—the blessed tap water of life! He moved the tray closer and then he went to take more pillows from the closet. He handed a couple of pillows to Nurse Wells, she propped me up in bed. Once that was done, I found I could reach the straw on my own. I still felt weak as a proverbial kitten. Gods, I wished I didn’t feel so damn worn out.
“We are going to recover, right? This,” I said, gesturing to myself, “is curable?”
Dr. Kirksten heard the worry in my voice and said, “Vaughn, you are recovering. Don’t be afraid. We got you through this, and we’ll get you on your feet and doing better than ever!”
I smiled and gave a weak nod. “Oh good, I’ll be able to play the piano.”
Brand commented, “You’ve never played the piano in your life.”
I gave him a mock glare and said, “I trust the doctor. He said I’d be better than ever! That includes doing stuff I’d never done before.”
Brand groaned, and the two adults laughed. Kirksten reached over and mussed my hair as he said, “Old joke, but cute try, nonetheless.”
He then turned to the nurse and said, “Keep an eye on them, please? And don’t let the young Mr. Houseman out of his bed!”
The nurse gave Brand a mock glare and nodded once. He gave her a look of mock contrition. I grinned at him and shook my head. Even as weak as he was, he was still pushing it. But, before long, our parents were in the room, and we hugged, we smiled, my mom cried, and Brand’s dad had something in his eye. Slowly, though, we calmed down enough to try to catch up on what happened. That didn’t go well, as everyone in the room tried talking at the same time.
Finally, with a sigh of impatience, Dr. Kirksten yelled, “I’ll tell everyone what is going on! And you four will head home to sleep! Not one of you has had much of that after these two got here! So be quiet!”
I grinned for a second as the parents’ went collectively silent, staring at the man. Dr. Kirksten wasn’t very tall. I think he was a hair under five feet six inches. But short or no, he definitely had a voice!
As silence filled the room, he grinned, impishly and said, “I love a good audience.”
Then, regaining some aplomb, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, your boys will be fine. If—and I stress if—they get complete rest! It took some time, but I’m certain they’ll recover.”
Brand asked, “Recovered from what, exactly? What hit us?”
Kirksten winced. “Honestly, I don’t know. As far, as can be guessed at, Alex Shaw generated some form of radiation. But since no one was around to take record what type it was, I had to take guesses in how to treat your condition. Whatever it was, it caused you to go into an increased metabolic state, especially where your nervous systems were concerned. In essence, you both overloaded and became comatose.”
Pointing at us, he said, “We were able to keep you two from burning up with controlled depressants until we found that a combination of lithium salts and magnesium compounds worked quite well, though it took awhile to find the right dosage. The rest is what you see. You’re awake, and, although tired out, you are both recovering.”
Mom asked, “Is there any danger of a relapse?”
Kirksten looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook his head. “Given how well the two of you are recovering, it’s not likely. But since the primary areas affected were the nerves. And that sort of recovery can be tricky. Just to be safe, I’ll continue to have CAT and MRI scans done for the next few days as we lower the amount of the solution in the IV drip.”
I tried, but I couldn’t fight the yawn that hit me. Dr. Kirksten’s eyes narrowed as he said, “All right, visiting hours are over. You can all come back in the morning!”
With quick hugs and pecks on the cheeks from our moms, the room cleared out. The doctor and Nurse Wells stayed to check us one last time. I was edgy from the talk, though. I asked quietly. “How could the radiation affect the brain?”
Dr. Kirksten sighed, “I don’t know, we’ve never had a human being fly up into space under his own power and then blast apart an asteroid. And I can’t tell you what energy he used to do it.”
He chuckled softly, and then said, “I wasn’t even outside to see it. I was here, with a bottle of Gordon Taylor’s best-blended whiskey I could afford.”
I opened my mouth in surprise at such an admission and he laughed. “What? We’re talking about the end of the world! Did you think I was going out of it stone cold sober? You were lucky I had enough wits to see to your care!”
He glanced at Nurse Wells, and his voice softened a bit. “And thank God I had a nurse who had her wits about her, at the end.”
I caught the look of deep respect between them. Then I yawned again. That prompted Kirksten to finish looking me over. Softly, he said, “You’re both exhausted now, but that should pass with time and normal sleep.”
I looked at the IV bag. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but it wasn’t a clear solution like I’ve seen in IV bags. He noticed my quizzical look and said, “I don’t quite know why yet, but your bodies need a great deal of magnesium, and the lithium salts helped calm some problems with the nerves. I’m only glad we had a working lab, and that your parents were willing to let me try it.”
I nodded as I laid back. I closed my eyes and found that I wasn’t as tired out as I thought. That was good. That meant that Brand and I might use this time to discuss Alex. That was my last thought before I slipped into the darkness of sleep. It would be hours before I awoke, and waking came with a doozy of a dream.
Alex flew down from the sky, his Superman costume burned from his encounter with the asteroid. The bottom edge of the dark leather cape was in tatters. I shook my head with disbelief. Mom would ground me again if I caused that much damage to my costume.
Costume?
I looked down and was surprised to see that I was wearing some outlandish red and yellow spandex suit with a bird’s head emblem on the front of it. I heard the sound of fists thumping against wood, and I looked and stared at Brand. He also wore a bizarre looking costume. One that seemed to absorb the light, turning it into a mix of blood red and shadow. To my shock, he was chopping a tree with his gloved hands. Wherever he touched the wood,
smoke would come from the cuts he made in the trunk.
Alex landed in front of me. His attire changed from Superman’s iconic costume into an all black suit covered by his ripped black leather trench coat. He handed me a piece of gum and said, “Be sure to chew it this time, Vaughn. Or you won’t be able to stop it from happening again.”
Confused, I turned to Brand to ask what Alex was talking about only to see that he was fighting some guy in a striking dark gray and silver costume that had a red jewel glowing on a chest plate. The man sported a beard that had gray streaks through it. With a look of desperation on his face, Brand turned to me, yelling—
“You killed my baby!” The dream was ripped away as I opened my eyes. I jumped up to a sitting position on the bed and then immediately slumped back, already worn out. At the door, a short, rotund woman with graying strawberry-blond hair and narrowed gray-blue eyes was trying to barge past cops and push into the room. All the while, she was screaming about her baby. They were holding her back, but just barely.
I had no idea who she was, but this crazy woman was not helping my recovery! She’d obviously come from outside, there was snow on her coat and shoes. She continued yelling long enough to wake Brand up.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and said, “What the hell?”
For another moment, the woman struggled against the police officers who were holding her back. From somewhere out of sight, I could hear Chief Sinclair yelling, “Damn it Mrs. Jessup! You can’t be in here! Guys, get her out of the hospital!”
I froze in place as my eyes widened with surprise in recognition of the name. Brand muttered, “Jessup. Oh shit, is she Jessup’s wife?”
In a loud voice, Mrs. Jessup said, “How dare those two lie on their lazy asses and laugh about killing my sweet innocent son!”
Brand’s jaw dropped open for a second before he yelled at her. “Innocent? He tried to kill us! Lady, the psych ward is upstairs on the fourth floor! Go check yourself in—you’re nuts!”
Well that didn’t help. Her eyes bugged out and she screamed. The large woman pushed farther into the room. She was so distraught that I couldn’t understand her ravings. Finally, the cops managed to drag her out of the room. The door swung shut, but it closed slowly enough to allow me to hear Chief Sinclair yelling for her to calm down.
But if I thought it was over, I was wrong. Just as the door shut completely, someone new burst in. Although he was a thin, sallow looking man, the red hair and similar facial features made it clear that I was looking at another Jessup relative.
He confirmed it when he yelled, “Which one of you fuckers killed my brother?”
“Enough!” The single word was like a sudden crack of a whip coming from the doorway. Chief Sinclair stood there with a baleful look in his eyes. He was in uniform, and my eyes widened at the sight of his hand on the butt of his gun. No, he wasn’t in good humor over this intrusion, none whatsoever.
In a surprisingly soft voice, he said, “Nathan, get out now. Or I will arrest you and your mom.” He said it softly but it did have authority in it. Unfortunately, it didn’t make Nathan do anything except to whine at him.
Peevishly, Nathan said, “They killed my brother! They took a brick and smashed his head in! They have to pay for that!”
Brand yelled, “Blame Shaw for that! Your brother was gonna kill us!”
Nathan whipped his head around so fast that I heard his neck bones cracking. He said, “Liar! The Avatar didn’t do anything like that!”
Startled, Brand and I stared at each other. I mouthed the word in silence. ‘Avatar?’
Sinclair stalked up to Nathan, his hand still ready to pull the gun. He laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, squeezing just enough to get the guy’s attention. He spoke softly, but distinctly. “No Nathan, Alex confessed. It was self-defense. I’m sorry, son, but your brother James was not a good man. And he finally paid the price of his crimes with his life. And Alex was the one who took it. These two were his last victims, not his killers.”
Nathan began to say something, but he was stopped by Sinclair’s hard look. When he stopped talking, Sinclair went on. “Now I’m done being civil. Get out of here. Don’t come back. These two are not the cause of your problems. I don’t want to see either you or your mother in the hospital while they’re here. Is that clear?”
They stared at each other in a battle of wills. But Nathan was outmatched—far outmatched. Dropping his gaze, the younger Jessup left the room with his head down. He didn’t look at anyone else until he got to the door. Then, for a split-second, just as I thought it was over, he glared at me with pure hate showing in his eyes. No, this wasn’t finished.
Still, he was gone; that was enough for the moment. But visiting hours obviously were just beginning. Because just as Nathan left, Hector Gutierrez, a tall, large Hispanic cop, came in. With a last look at the cops escorting the two Jessups away, he pushed the door shut behind him. I knew Hector. He’d been a cop since I was a kid.
I actually liked him. He was like a big teddy bear to the town’s kids. Even the hard-edged teenagers could get along with him. He nodded to Brand and me as Sinclair pulled out the radio at his shoulder and clicked it. He said into it, “Caleb, be at the elevators downstairs to escort the Jessup’s out of the hospital. After that, I want two guards on Room 241 for the rest of the time that Vaughn Hagen and Brand Houseman are here. Got that?”
“Gotcha Chief. Kick the crazies out and protect the brats. No problem. Now you know why the last two police chiefs quit! Told you the Jessup family was nuts,” said Caleb. Brand and I gave mock scowls at Caleb’s use of the word ‘brat.’
With a sigh, the Chief clicked off the radio and looked at Hector. “I can fire him, right?”
Hector snorted and said, “Sure, that would make oh…three real cops in town instead of four, but hey, go ahead.”
Chief Sinclair gave Hector a mock glare and started to say something when the door opened up. Looking annoyed, Kirksten came in and said, “What the hell kind of security do you people have here Sinclair? What was that all about? The few nurses I have are all in a panic over what the Jessups did, shoving themselves in people’s faces, demanding to know where these boys were!”
Chief Sinclair raised a hand to calm the doctor. Kirksten didn’t wait to listen. He came to my bed to check the machines as Sinclair said, “Middy Jessup and her kid blame Vaughn and Brand for what happened to James. Sorry doctor, but what with so many people gone, we’ve been limited. It’s not an excuse, it’s simply what happened.”
Hector said, “Sorry, Doc, we’ve only gotten two cops back since the Day, and the rest are volunteers who’ve been working half days.”
Kirksten shook his head, and then he laughed softly and said, “All right you two, it’s not as though you’re alone with having problems getting people back. Every place has the problem going on.”
Looking at me, Kirksten pulled out a penlight and flashed it in my eyes. After he finished, I blinked my eyes to get rid of the spots. He asked, “So how are you feeling? I hope the Jessup family visit didn’t make a mess of your recovery.”
I smiled to put him at ease. I said, “No, it didn’t. Actually, I’m feeling better. Hungry, though.”
Kirksten chuckled. “We’ll get you something. We have food services at least. Now if we could only get a few more medical people back…”
Brand looked troubled. He said, “Wait, it’s been two weeks. You’d think everyone would be back by now. And who the hell is the Avatar?”
Hector let out a sigh, and said, “Well, you know how the military and government stayed in the background during the panicky run south. People simply walked into places like Mexico and Latin America. Who was going to stop them? Even the people in those countries were trying to escape Yama. The problem is, once they started heading home, the bureaucrats have been going wild in tracking people. They want to prevent ‘illegal immigration’ go figure.”
Kirksten sighed. “It’s not only the bureaucr
acy. The simple fact is, millions of people left their homes in a panic, and they left behind necessary medication and other things. Worse was that all the tension, fear, and excitement was bound to cause strokes and heart attacks. Add into the mix whatever it was that Alex Shaw did and, well, I’m not surprised that FEMA and the CDC are pulling in whoever they can, including cops and the like, to help keep people calm.”
That was fine, but it meant absolutely nothing to me. I had to figure out the changes in my own life. I couldn’t take the time to deal with other people’s problems. Not when I just woke up. And all their explanations came down to only one thing; people weren’t back from the Exodus yet.
Brand spoke up. “But what about the Avatar? Did Nathan just call Alex…the Avatar?”
Hector nodded with a sigh. Then he said, “It’s the new thing. Hell, the news has been full of it.”
Brand said, “Oh it’s always has been full of it. but seriously, they started calling him Avatar? Oh my God…the comic geeks have won the contest of naming him.”
I gave Brand a shocked glare, “Hey! I’m a comic geek!”
Brand grinned. Ignoring the jibes between us, Chief Sinclair grabbed the chair near the outside wall and pulled it to the middle of the room. He sat with his chest leaning on the back of it.
He said, “Well, we should’ve expected it. A couple dozen people were outside when Alex lifted off the ground. It was bound to occur to someone to take videos. These days it’s almost a reflex for those with smart phones.”
Brand laughed and said, “Oh, man, I thought it was hilarious when I saw people taking videos of the cookout. Seriously, old habits die hard and all that, but the freaking world was coming to an end!”
We all chuckled at the image. Then Hector said, “Yeah well, even if they hadn’t taken videos, something else made him even more popular than a few videos on YouTube.”
I ignored the comment on Alex being popular for the moment. That was fine; it was bound to happen. Since he is known, then we should celebrate his sacrifice. I said, “So, despite the side effects of the energy field he generated, he’s still seen as a hero?”
