Chapter 9
I kept asking them questions, I didn‘t understand where I was or how I got there. I didn‘t ask why when they hauled me upstairs to the department called neurology and stuck me in that tube for hours. The banging and clicking hurt my head, made the strings all tangled and jangled until it drove me crazy. I remember screaming uncontrollably and smacking at the sides of the tube and they brought men in who stuck me with a shot that melted me.
It wore off hours later and I was back in bed. In a room I knew was a hospital. I was tied to the rails with soft restraints at my wrists and an uncomfortable collar was on my neck so that I couldn‘t turn it.
"Hey!" I yelled and was surprised that my voice was thin and raspy. I cleared my throat; it was dry as if I‘d had a sore throat. I wanted a big glass of water. I looked around the room, spotted a pink pitcher with a straw in it on one of those bed tray tables. It was just out of my reach and tormented me.
I saw no cards, no flowers, nothing to indicate anyone knew I was here. "Mom? Dad?"
My voice wavered as the pain in my head cranked up a notch.
"Ah, you‘re awake, Jade," said a man‘s voice. I saw a doctor in white lab coat over street clothes. His name was embroidered over the pocket. Dr. Hambly.
"Where am I?"
He flicked a penlight in my eyes and away. "Good. Reaction is equal and responsive.
How‘s your head?"
"Hurts. Worst headache I‘ve ever had," I answered, pulling at my wrists.
"We‘ll take those off in a minute, Jade. You‘re in Crowley Trauma, ICU. Maryland."
I stopped moving. "Maryland! What the hell am I doing in Maryland?"
"What do you remember, Jade?"
I frowned, struggled, and saw images of me at the library. With flashes of Murphy driving and I was filled with an overwhelming sadness laden with crushing terror. "Where‘s my Dad?" I wailed.
"They took him to another facility," he answered carefully. "You were in a car accident.
In DC. He was driving."
"Why? Why were we in DC?"
"I don‘t know, Jade."
"Is my Dad okay?"
He hesitated and that was answer enough. I swallowed, tried to turn my head away but I wasn‘t even allowed the luxury of hiding my tears. The cervical collar prevented that.
"I‘m sorry, Jade. Do you have any other relatives?"
"My mom?"
"She was murdered the day before your accident."
"No. I was adopted," I said dully.
"Oh."
"What happened to me?"
"You crushed your ribs, collapsed both your lungs, and fractured your neck and your skull."
"Broke my neck?" I stared at him in horror and then paused in thought. "But, my ha nds move. I can feel my feet."
"You didn‘t cut your spinal cord. Just bruised it, the swelling puts pressure on it and makes the nerves unresponsive. Movement should come back once the swelling goes down."
"Should come back? You mean I‘m paralyzed?" My voice shook. I tried moving my legs.
Too many shocks at once.
"You have some movement, Jade. We‘re confident it will come back. Do you want something for your headache?"
"Leave me alone."
"I can‘t do that, Jade. You‘re under 24-hour observation. There‘s a guard outside the door. As soon as you‘re stable, you‘ll be transferred to a government facility."
So, they knew about me. "Who are you? I know who you are, I mean what are you?
NSA? DIA?"
"I‘m a doctor at Crowley Trauma, ER surgeon. Colonel Brightarm will explain everything to you. You don‘t remember him but he‘s been in here several times to sit with you."
"Why? How long?"
"Six days. You woke up yesterday but we had to knock you out again. You had a ….panic attack in the CAT scan. Are you claustrophobic?"
"No. Let me loose, please. I‘d like a drink."
He undid the restraints on my hands and I pulled them across my chest and rubbed them.
He cranked the bed up so I could sit; I saw out the door into the rest of the ICU and caught the corner of the chair where a uniformed soldier sat. I‘d assumed my guard was a cop not military.
I was able to reach forward and pick up the pitcher, drained it dry of ice water. He set it down for me and waited. I realized he was waiting to see if it stayed down but my vomiting was over.
"You‘ll have headaches for a while. Incipient nausea on and off, too. You have a pretty severe concussion with a bleed. Retrograde amnesia. You probably won‘t remember the accident or the days before it. That‘s not uncommon in head injuries."
A man in uniform came in without knocking. He was dark haired, his skin a rich coppery color, his uniform that of a Colonel in the AF. He was clean-shaven and very crisp, talked with an accent not of the South but the East Coast.
"He‘s awake," he stated. Very observant, too.
"Who are you?"
"We‘ve met. You don‘t remember?"
"No." I stared at him; he managed not to be intimidated but gave me a brilliant white smile. His teeth were perfect and I suspect, entirely natural.
"I‘m Colonel Mateo Brightarm."
"Seneca?" I asked and he looked startled.
"Onondaga. Most people guess Cherokee or Sioux."
"The accent. East Coast."
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit." He moved to the side of my bed and picked up my wrist. His fingers stroked the welts I‘d made trying to pull free.
"Where were you born, Jade?"
The doctor cleared his throat. "I'll remind you he's still in ICU, still medically fragile, Colonel."
"I won't hurt a hair on his head, doctor. Interesting colors, that. You ever see a 15-year-old with gray hair? Other than progeria victims? Answer the question, Jade." His eyes were bright, sparkling like chips of amber.
"I don't know. I was adopted."
"Your parents didn't go through any legal agencies. Did they purchase you on the black market?"
"There's a black market for kids?" I returned.
"Of course. Babies for adoption, babies for sex offenders, special orders for sexual predators with unlimited funds, sex traders even for organs. Isn't the Internet wonderful? Even you know that, you have your own website tracking down oddities… Like you."
"There aren't any like me." I was quiet. So far, I hadn't tracked anyone else with weird abilities like mine. Although there was a vague rumor out there of a teenage kid who could walk into shadows and disappear. They said his eyes were strange, too. One blue eye and one green.
Personally, I thought that was cool.
"No, Jade, there aren't."
"What are you going to do with me?" I clenched my fists, my hands were sweaty and my heart raced.
"Just worry about getting better, Jade. As soon as the doctors release you, we'll transfer you to a safe house where you can recover completely."
"You mean I'll be a prisoner," I retorted.
"On the contrary, Jade, you'll be free to go anywhere you wish. However, you have no family; legally you have no claim on your parents‘ estate and will go into the foster care program."
"No, dad's SWAT team won't let that happen," I returned.
"They think you died in that car crash. Your friend Murph identified your dad's body and yours."
"Murphy was there?"
"You ditched him at the McDonald's. We were trailing you; let you lead us to your father."
"You killed him." I stared at him.
"Who would've thought a cop would drive without seat belts? Of all the people in the world, he should've known better. We're just lucky he didn't kill yo u, too."
"Go away. Leave me alone."
"I'm sorry, Jade. Alone is something you'll never be again. I hope you feel better soon.
Get some rest. I won't warn you about trying to escape. Dr. Alastair assured me, you won't be walking for a while. Not until your spinal cord heals. If you should try before it does, the damage might be permanent." He smiled and left me with that thought.
Nurses came and went, they took blood, gave me treatments for my lungs, stuck me, plied me with pills, bullied me into eating and when I complained about not having to go to the bathroom, presented me with a bedpan and told me I was catheterized.
"Oh. That's what I feel down there?"
"Yes. Once you get up, will take it out. You can use a urinal, or go to the restroom."
"He said I'm not supposed to walk."
"Oh, we'll be getting you up with PT. That's scheduled for tomorrow. We'll have you take a few steps between handrails and in a harness. You'll have to wear the collar for a few weeks."
"It hurts my chin," I complained. "I can't turn my head."
"That's the point. Now, finish your supper so I can give you a bed bath."
"Don't want one." I was too embarrassed for her to see me naked.
"You're getting pretty ripe," she said. I shrugged.
"Worse things in life than dirt," I returned. I slid down in bed and pulled the sheets up to my chin, staring at her until she picked up my tray and left.