Dreamcast 2, p.12
Dreamcast 2, page 12
By lunch I couldn’t even touch my food. I was certain that something was going to happen on the road to the South. An accident. I kept expecting the screech of tires followed by a loud bang. Not yet, my presentiment told me.
In the afternoon I tried drawing but my hand wouldn’t obey me. There was no sensitivity in it. The pencil made heavy, ugly tracks on the paper. Disgusted, I put the pad away. My life, present and future, was in limbo: would I ever get it back?
The afternoon dragged by and I could feel a catastrophe creeping up on me. My shoulders were stiff from tension, my neck pulled in. Too agitated to stay still, I pushed my wheelchair down the corridor and back, weaving through the foot traffic of patients and staff.
I even took a turn around the garden to burn off some of my apprehension. The gravel crunched under the wheels as I pushed harder and harder, trying to outpace the approaching dread. It was 2:35 and the time was ticking. At the fountain I met up with Smoky, who was lighting up a cigarette from the stub of the last one. His fingers were shaking and he reeked of tobacco.
“Taking your constitutional?” he asked easily. I just nodded. Fortified by his constant nicotine intake, he could look the world in the face. I wondered what his demons were. Charles the Wanderer went by us for the fourth time, doing his obsessive rounds around and around, trapped by the circular limestone path. Every time he passed, Smoky called out encouragingly, “Way to go Charlie. You’re almost there.” We watched some attractive nurses collect on a bench for a smoke break.
Suddenly, a shriek of tires came over the fence and I cringed, but the expected crash didn’t come. Not yet! My heart was fluttering with anxiety and I had to move again.
Finally I parked myself in the common room where some volunteers tried to interest the inmates in some activities. There was a knitting circle in one corner, and someone played the upright piano on request. A kitchen girl was dispensing refreshments from a cart.
White let himself down opposite me. “Where is everybody?”
I just shrugged; he made a displeased face. “Man, I hate waiting. Just sitting around, wasting time.” He drummed on the table nervously, looking this way and that, for something to latch onto. “I wish it were over.” I guess he meant his aunt.
Agnes came by with her little cup of pills. She stopped by our table, checked me off her list before giving me my three pills: one blue, one yellow, another red-green. Under her watchful eyes, I washed them down with some apple juice.
“Do you have something for boredom?” White asked and I had a feeling he wasn’t kidding.
“Pills are for patients only,” Agnes said severely. To her the pills were little seeds of normalcy to be planted in disturbed souls. I didn’t really know what my pills were supposed to do; they certainly didn’t calm nervousness. If anything, I was even more tense. It was now 3:47 by the large clock on the wall, ticking down institutional time. A young nurse came by with some disinfectant, going from person to person, telling everyone there was some infection on the third floor and this was merely a precaution. I rubbed the fluid onto my hand, feeling its coolness evaporate off my skin.
4:11. It was going to happen soon. I couldn’t stand the suspense. I wheeled myself to the water cooler, taking a deep drink. The liquid sloshed nervously around in my empty stomach. Mesmerized, I watched the clock creep past 4:23. I could almost smell the accident coming. It wouldn’t be long now. I tried ESP, but it fizzled out; I couldn’t concentrate to hold it together. Something would happen to the south on the way to the concert. I sensed heat and smoke. I was horrified, but didn’t know what I could do about it. Warn someone? Who would believe me? Or listen to a raving lunatic stuck in a mental institution? I felt so helpless.
Going off-duty, Ruth came to say goodbye to me. I was distracted by the coming calamity.
“I’m going now. Anything you need?” She put a hand on my shoulders with that appealing possessiveness of a person who has bonded to another.
“No,” I mumbled, listening toward the outside.
“Well then, see you tomorrow,” she said and turned away. Instantly I realized she was heading into danger. I tried to yell out her name, but couldn’t find my voice. I pushed my wheelchair after her trying desperately to negotiate the press of people and tables. I had to stop her. Somehow.
“Ruth!” I managed to get out, but not loud enough. She turned to wave at me. I was still behind. I turned the wheel and slammed headlong into the wall, the impact disorienting me. Suddenly White was kneeling beside me, his face spiteful. “You dumb ass, you drove right into the wall. How stupid can you get?”
Ruth was over him, pushing him aside. “Are you all right, Travis?” She felt my arms and legs, then my ribs, to see if anything was broken.
“No,” I uttered in a hoarse whisper. My knee hurt, but my hand closed around the hem of her white smock: I was not going to let her go.
“My... room...” I stammered. “Please.” Ruth nodded and wheeled me to the elevator. On the second floor, she turned right and again into room T209. Helping me onto the bed, she fussed over me, taking a wet cloth and wiping my face. She gave me a box of pomegranate juice to drink while I tried to look a little woozy. She took my pulse, checking it against her watch. “You’re high. What’s the matter?” She took a pencil light and shone it in my eyes, testing my reflexes. “What’s ...” A loud explosion blocked out the rest.
“My God, what was that?” She ran to the window and looked south. A little slower, I got into my wheelchair and pushed myself beside her, to see a thick column of smoke rise in the air. 4:57. The thing had arrived! It was about 2 miles down the road, but even at that distance we could hear the roar of flames and already the smell the burning. “My God! My God!” Ruth kept repeating, her face deathly pale. She forgot about me and hurried out the door. I followed, encountering shocked and aghast faces. Staff and patients lined the fence to the south, peering toward the inferno. Sirens wailing, the first police and fire trucks flashed by on the road, followed by ambulances and emergency vehicles.
Our doctors were trying to organize a crew to help out. Orderlies came running with medical supplies and loading them into the ambulance. With the lights flashing, they disappeared down the road. The traffic piled up and was soon backed up out of sight. There was some irritated honking but everyone could see the trail of smoke up ahead and realized that something critical had gone down. People climbed on top of their cars to see what it was all about. More police and emergency vehicles were passing on the shoulders, scattering gravel.
“What happened? What’s happening?” was on every tongue.
“A tanker truck burst into flames and caused a pileup.”
“Anybody dead?” No one knew. There was a strong smell of gasoline and burned rubber on the breeze, and something sweet that laced through the harsh chemical odors. Burned flesh! Shuddering, I wheeled my chair closer to the fence, trying to get a better look.
“So, how do you like the barbecue?” White asked, grinning from ear to ear. I guessed the bastard wasn’t bored now. Sam, who had severe delusions at times, giggled next to us. I moved away.
Ambulances were heading back to the city, one after the other, the sirens cutting through raw nerves.
“Hell’s bells! That’s the fourteenth to pass.” Must be a major pileup with many casualties.
Still more ambulances arrived, and more were heading for the County Hospital. Twenty were dead, it was rumored, then only eight, but with lots of injured. The sirens kept wailing, shredding the ears.
“Travis, you saved my life!” Ruth was suddenly beside me; she laid her hand on my arm. “If you hadn’t held me up, I’d be in the middle of that inferno.” She looked toward the smoke, then at me. “You knew, didn’t you? How?” That, I didn’t know, so I just shrugged my shoulders. Her eyes big, she kept staring at me.
More sirens wailed, the sound growing as it neared, building to a crescendo, then diminishing abruptly as it left us behind. The road that passed the institution was solidly blocked except for the northbound lanes that now ferried the injured to hospital. A few occupants left their cars to beg to use our bathrooms. The kitchen staff was handing out drinks and cookies to the stranded motorists.
Ahead, the smoke abated as the firemen gained the upper hand. The volunteer crew returned, some with blood soaked through their green jumpers and all with haunted expressions on their faces.
“There’re six dead and eight severely injured; at least two more are not expected to survive. Burn victims.”
“Don’t forget the thirty with lesser injuries.”
“Twenty seven.”
“What caused it?”
“An idiot motorcyclist cut in front of an eighteen wheeler rig. The truck had to brake hard not to run down the fool, and the following tanker trailer climbed up on his back. Started leaking fuel right away. About two dozen cars ran into the mess, one after another, the collisions sounding like a machine gun. Bang, bang, bang, just kept coming. Then the gasoline exploded, spraying people with burning fuel. It was a horror show. Peoples’ faces melting... running with clothes on fire... And the smell... I’ll never forget the smell...” Everyone listening shuddered.
My stomach heaved and I had a hard time keeping its contents down. Ruth was still very pale as she gazed toward the accident where the column of smoke was now reduced to a narrow ribbon.
Everywhere ahead were flashing lights, reds, blues and intense whites winking like strobes in the distance. Then the column of cars shuddered to life, and began to squeeze by the accident. Slowly, like a giant centipede, the line of cars and trucks crept by.
Of course that night I couldn’t fall asleep. The excitement of the day had riled me up too much, and the horrors, though I had not seen them personally, festered in my imagination. Mostly though, I couldn’t account for knowing about the accident ahead of time. All day I had been expecting it. How and why went around in my head. Although my ESP sensitivity also didn’t make any sense either, I had some experience and history with it—but to sense the future? That had never happened before and my prior explanations of my abilities did not cover it.
It was well past 3:30 before I had a working hypothesis. Somehow this phenomenon had to do with my 95 percent stuck in time somewhere. There had to be some link with the larger part of me. Which would be extremely good, because if the link actually existed then perhaps I could guide myself back to the present. It was a bit like lifting oneself by one’s own hair, a neat trick if one could do it, but it nonetheless offered a sliver of hope of reuniting with myself. But how exactly? I tried it, concentrating on willing myself back. I broke into a sweat straining against the time barrier. A horrifying thought ate at me, that my reduced abilities didn’t have enough power to do what I wanted and I’d be stuck in limbo forever.
By 4:00 a.m. I had so exhausted myself that I finally did fall asleep.
All too soon, at 7:00 the duty nurse roused me with “Breakfast in half an hour.” She waited long enough to be certain that I responded. Lethargic, I dragged myself through the morning routines and wheeled myself down to the cafeteria. My friends were already halfway through their food.
“You look like shit,” Max pronounced with his customary directness.
“No... good... sleep,” I muttered.
“Not many did after yesterday’s uproar,” Tessie contributed soberly. “The news announced that two more have died and at least one more is expected to.”
“That would make eleven in total,” Max recalled. “Burns are very dangerous.”
Smoky finished his eggs and sausages and pushed himself away from the table. “I guess it’s time for a smoke,” he said, heading outdoors. Good old Smoky, he was able to load all his concerns into the next cigarette. Max also drifted off.
“I had court yesterday,” Tessie informed me confidentially. “The judge ruled that I was emotionally so unbalanced at the time that I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. There were technical considerations of extenuating circumstances and the degree of provocation, so he went easy on me. I’m to stay here until ‘cured.’ If I can convince the psychiatrist that I’m sane, then he can discharge me a free woman. Of course, my ex launched an immediate appeal. He wants to make sure I don’t get any of the remaining family’s assets. My kids...” Her eyes misted over and her voice faltered, “Were forced to testify against me. Their father bought their loyalty. And they’re still angry with me. Why should they forgive a crazy person, now officially stamped as one?” She fished a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes.
I tried to make appropriate sympathetic sounds but only grunts came out. It was irritating and disconcerting that I was again reduced to baby-talk. Then her face turned blank, and she whispered “Damn.” I looked up to see White advancing on us with coffee in hand.
“Where is everybody?” he demanded. Since I was not up to entertaining him, I pushed off, excusing myself with a few more grunts. I went upstairs to my room preoccupied with all my predicaments. I couldn’t reconcile myself to my present reduced state. How was I to resume my life? Could my marriage survive? In time my kids could reject me just as Tessie’s kids turned their backs on her. On the other hand I was aware of improvements. Much like a stroke victim I was relearning skills and even attitudes. Still far short of normal—but I was making progress. Overall, my inability to reconnect with my speech functions proved to be my biggest handicap. If only I could explain... Explain what? That I was stuck in time? Who would believe that?
Yesterday, Amanda couldn’t visit me because of the congestion on the road due to the accident. It had taken hours for the emergency personnel to gather the injured, the police to clear the logjam and the road crew to clean up the mess. The concert had been cancelled. Afterwards, the accident attracted a wave of curious people who always seemed to be drawn to such disasters. Late into the evening, the cars kept coming. Someone brought flowers, and soon a makeshift shrine materialized adjacent to the burnt spot. Again the traffic backed up, so no wonder Amanda couldn’t get through. She phoned and talked with me. I rarely could find the right words in time to answer her. If only I could...
The shrill tone of the fire alarm cut off my thoughts. I was up and almost out of the door before I realized that I wasn’t in my wheelchair but on my own two feet, walking. When had this happened? Had my mindset kept me chair-bound all this time? I was so startled that I nearly fell. I was still weak and thought it prudent to go back and retrieve the wheelchair.
The hall was full of hurrying people, heading for the stairs. The elevators were already blocked off and I had to use the wheelchair ramp to work my way down and out. At a safe distance from the building I joined the crowd already there. Max and Tessie came over to flank me. Smoky was in the bushes, what else? Smoking. The damn bells were still ringing.
White joined us, asking, “What’s up?”
“Either it’s a drill or some clown decided to stir us up for entertainment,” Max offered.
A fire truck came careening through the gate, pulling up at the main door. Firemen dismounted, grabbed their equipment and pressed into the building. There was no smoke to be seen, no smell of burning. It looked like a prank.
Suddenly, the bells cut out, leaving us suspended in silence. People jostled about, waiting for someone to declare the all-clear. No one did. The firemen came out in their bulky uniforms, lugging their equipment. From their casual saunter it was obvious that the emergency was over. But there was still no movement toward the inside. The director finally appeared at the main door, talked briefly with the fire chief then waved to the assembly to re-enter. We streamed back, collecting in the common room. Two back-to-back days of uncalled-for excitement. No wonder that we were buzzing like a roused beehive.
Max had saved us a table and we took our places. Smoky, White and me. “What did I tell you?” Max grinned cheerfully. “Some bored nut decided to have some fun.” We knew that interrogation was already under way to uncover the culprit from among the usual suspects with a history of such pranks.
Tessie joined us, breathless. “They found a dead body on the third floor.”
“Dead?” Smoky asked stupidly.
“This is a hospital. People die here all the time.” That was Max’s opinion. “Anybody we know?”
“I don’t think so. An old lady on the third floor. That’s all I know.”
White hurried off, since his aunt was on the third floor. “Do you think...?” Tessie asked. Max shrugged his shoulders.
In a half-hour White was back. “It was my aunt. They think that the fire alarm scared her to death. She must’ve had a heart attack.”
“Well you got what you wanted,” Max spat out.
“And what was that?!” White turned on Max aggressively.
“The end to waiting around,” Max hurried to reply. White deflated his chest and relaxed his jaw but his face remained flushed.
Ruth came up to the table. She put her hand on me in affirmation of her gratitude. After all, in her mind, I had saved her sister’s and her life, and maybe I had. “I suppose you’ve all heard by now. Mrs. Anderson died on the Alzheimer ward. Poor soul.”
“White’s aunt,” Tessie confirmed. We were all silent for a while, thinking of life and death and what it all added up to.
An hour later, Amanda suddenly appeared. We left the others and went into the garden to sit under the few elm trees that were left in the state. To surprise her I got out of the chair and took a few unsteady steps. She was overjoyed to see the improvement. I walked a few steps this way and back, showing off.
“You’re better,” she said, smiling. Still, I sensed how hard it was for her to stay patient with my slow progress. She wanted the person back I used to be. So did I. We talked more about time. I, a word at a time, she often having to guess my meanings and fill in the words I couldn’t reach. She had consulted a few experts of the metaphysical, but science had no answers for me. Time was strictly a one-way street.
