Bump

by S.J. Finch

  Chapter 3

  Plastic. Latex. Iodine. If this was what the afterlife smelled like, Ryan wasn’t so sure he wanted to be here. He was still too groggy to force his eyes open, but his other senses filled in the gaps. He heard the faint, steady beeping of his heart monitor, the rustle of feet back and forth on linoleum in a nearby hallway, and a soft snoring somewhere to his left.

  The redness beating against his closed eyelids gave way to blinding whiteness when he finally mustered the strength to peel them apart. He opened his eyes a millimeter at a time to give his retinas time to adjust. As soon as they did, Ryan’s suspicions were confirmed: hospital room, heart monitor, snoring father.

  The bright light of day shone around the edges of the light-blocking blinds, though which day it actually was, Ryan had no idea. The shafts of sunlight that made it past the blinds’ defenses fell onto gray-flecked linoleum and white hospital bed sheets. High on the wall across from him, Ryan saw an outdated television. To his right, across from the window, was a large wooden door slightly ajar, which led to a tiny bathroom. Next to it was another door, through which Ryan had heard the sound of pattering feet. A sliver of light was visible at the bottom of the door and the beam was occasionally interrupted by shadow as doctors and nurses rushed back and forth.

  Ryan turned his head to look at his father. Moving his head in this way was one of the few movements Ryan could make that wouldn’t cause pain to shoot through his entire body. Some of the pain was dull and pounding, some of it was sharp and bracing. None of it was pleasant.

  He looked past the canopy of IV bags and glowing monitors. His father’s clothes were different than the ones he had brought camping, but they were just as wrinkled and unwashed. Joseph’s thinning, dirty-blonde hair was ruffled and sticking out at odd angles, as if he had slept against a number of hard surfaces for a number of nights. His square jaw was covered in a sparse beard, and Ryan could tell his father had been here, probably in that exact chair, for at least a few days.

  Trying not to disturb his father, Ryan occupied himself by examining the monitors and readouts that were within his limited field of vision. He had seen enough reruns of ER to guess at what most of the acronyms meant, but pop culture had failed to teach him about the attached numbers, and whether they meant he was getting better or worse.

  As Ryan became more awake, he became less interested in where he was and more interested in how he had gotten here. He spotted the nurse call button laying on the bed next to him, but his left hand may just as well been made of stone. The creature’s stinging bite had been to his left arm, and the pain there was worst of all. Ryan took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to send some of the pounding pain out with it. He was bracing himself for the agony of reaching with his other hand, until a sudden noise froze him where he was.

  He heard the soft click of the door being opened carefully. Ryan’s heart leapt in his chest and the monitors began to beep to an urgent crescendo. He may not have known how he had gotten to the hospital or how he was even still alive, but Ryan hadn’t forgotten the woods or the creature, not a single detail. In that instant, he was certain the thing had come back for him, that it had found him again and that it was going to kill him here and now. The light from under the door expanded for a moment, then receded as it was closed again. His mother entered with a large cup of coffee in one hand and eight-year-old Ethan Fisher’s hand in the other.

  His brother was first to notice that Ryan was awake.

  “Mom” Ethan whispered, nodding to Ryan as he tugged on her hand.

  “Ryan! You’re awake!”

  “Either that or people were really, really wrong about what happens when you die.” He replied, his throat scratchy from lack of fluids and under-use.

  Karen Fisher set her coffee down on the first surface she could find and attacked with an instinctive hug.

  “Knock that off! You don’t get to joke about Death when you’ve been on his doorstep for the last two days!” She scolded unconvincingly.

  “I’ll tell you, it’s a doorstep that gets a bad rep. Really well-landscaped, you’d appreciate what he can do with just a few begonias.”

  She pulled back from the hug with a hand on each of his shoulders. She looked at him with a mask of frustration, but her worry and relief showed through.

  “Can’t you be serious for two seconds?” She pleaded.

  “I was a few minutes ago. For a whole two seconds. I counted.”

  The truth was, Ryan didn’t know why he was making jokes. It wasn’t unusual at all, in fact it was par for the course, but if there were ever a time for him to break down and sob in his mother’s arms, he figured this was probably it. It took him only a moment however, to realize that sobbing may not have been the right response. He was alive. He was, for the most part, in one piece. His family was here around him and, more importantly, he was still around to be with his family. Ryan was still terrified about what had happened and he couldn’t explain what he had seen or how he had gotten here, but all those fears and doubts were momentarily replaced by a sense of contentment that washed over him. He was making jokes because he was happy, odd as those jokes may have been.

  Karen contented herself to perch on the edge of his bed and smooth his covers automatically with her hand.

  “How are you feeling?” She asked.

  “It hurts.” Ryan replied.

  “What does?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aw sweetie, I’m so sorry. Okay,” she replied as she stood up. “You sit there, don’t move. Or move. Whatever hurts the least. I’ll go get the nurse and we’ll have her up the painkillers.”

  It was as blissful a suggestion as any Ryan had ever heard, and there was only one thing on earth he wanted more: answers

  “No, wait, Mom!” But she was already out the door.

  The commotion had woken Ryan’s father. The man’s eyes had dark circles and puffy bags beneath them.

  “Hey Ry.” He said. Joseph’s demeanor was characteristically subdued, but Ryan could see a mixture of anxiety and relief twinkling from behind the man’s deep blue eyes. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks…though nobody has told me what happened.” Ryan’s voice was starting to feel less scratchy the more he used it.

  “You probably know more than we do.” His father replied. “All I know is what the doctors told us: some young family brought you in. Said they were driving down the highway, through the mountains in the middle of the night, on a road trip somewhere, and they saw you lying in the road being attacked by a bear. I guess their car scared the thing off, but you were already hurt pretty bad.”

  It wasn’t a bear. He knew that much. It couldn’t have been. He wanted out of the hospital though, and Ryan knew that ranting about giant wolf-creatures wasn’t the way to get out of a hospital. Quite the opposite.

  “But how did you find me?” He interrupted.

  “Well, the family was afraid to move you. Said you were bleeding from all kinds of places and they didn’t want to cause any more damage. They called 911 and got the paramedics to fly you in here. The sound of the helicopter woke us. When we couldn’t find you anywhere around the camp, I called Mom to pick me up. It’s a good thing we found you here too, we were about two minutes from calling in search and rescue and you would’ve been here under ‘John Doe’ the whole time.”

  “When was that? I mean, how long have I been here?” Ryan asked.

  “Two days. It’s Monday morning…almost afternoon.”

  “Well thanks for finding me, I could never afford this place without your insurance.”

  His father smiled and the hints of small tears gathered at the corners of his weary eyes. He put a hand on Ryan’s arm and left it there.

  A kind-eyed, matronly nurse had come into the room and was going about the business of giving Ryan more morphine. The pain had been slowly building the more Ryan exerted himself and he was content enough with his father’s story not to ask any more questions at the
moment. He felt his brain go fuzzy and his eyelids began to droop almost instantly. Ryan was in a deep, medicated sleep before his eyes were even fully closed.