“Oh. The concussion—”
“No, dearie. You don’t have a concussion.” The woman beamed, flashing dentures that were a shade too white.
Ellie thought about the blood dripping down her face, the way her lower body wouldn’t move at all, the sheer pain of it all. “I need to see my aunt. My passenger.”
“She had her hip surgery scheduled for tomorrow, so she’s in pre-op.”
“Oh.” Ellie thought about all the things she was supposed to do to get the house ready for Hestia. “I need to go home and get her bag. I’ll be back and—”
“Once you’re discharged,” the nurse said. “You can’t just walk out of the hospital!”
After the nurse left, Ellie dressed in silence. Her typical desire to follow the rules gave way under a strange new pressure in her belly. Something had changed when she hit that cow. SomethinginsideEllie was different.
She probably ought to stay in the hospital for now, but she neededto get Hestia’s bag, and maybe call that home health company after all. Maybe no one would even know she left the hospital to fetch Hestia’s things.
A few moments later, Ellie texted for a car pickup, gathered her things, and walked out of the hospital. It was, as a matter of record, one of the most adventurous, disobedient things she had done in over a decade.
Her bravado faded quickly as she stood in the midday sun, looking for her ride. Truthfully, Ellie wasn’t quite sure she was ready to be inside a car at all, but there was no way to get home from the hospital without one—and her “things” included several heavy binders. Admittedly, she was proud of her years of research, but today the binders mostly felt like a weight she’d rather not carry.
But she also had over $600 in cash in her bag. She wasn’t willing to drop her research or her cash.
Ellie looked again at the confirmation text on her phone as she walked around the front of the building, looking for an idling car. It wasn’t an actual parking lot, so the car ought to be easy to find.
Ellie texted the phone number: “Where are you?”
“Keep walking” was the quick reply.
“‘Keep walking’ they tell the not-quite-discharged patient.” Ellie stifled the rest of her complaint. It made her feel even more abandoned.
The angrier Ellie got, the more that taffy-pulling feeling grew. The pavement rolled and shivered. Twists of asphalt started to writhe and stretch.
No concussion, my butt!Ellie watched the ground imitate a sea of undulating serpents. They wriggled all over the ground around her, as if they were her own army of reptilian rage made manifest.
Time, of course, didn’t stretch like taffy with holes, and grounds didn’t ripple like enraged serpents. The only reasonable explanation was Elliedidhave a concussion.
And the blood she recalled had been real.
If she did not have a concussion, the other explanation—the oneEllie absolutely didn’t consider—was magic. Magic, in fact, did cause parking lots to imitate serpents, and time to slow like stubborn taffy. Sometime later, Ellie would think about this, but not yet.
Ellie’s practicality was a shield against any manner of unpleasantness, and both asphalt snakes and taffy-like time were quite unpleasant.
As her temper grew, Ellie watched the asphalt snakes peel off the hot ground and begin to wave around in the air. Ten-foot-tall serpents made of hot, stinking asphalt surged upward on either side of her. Where they ought to have eyes were voids, cracks in the asphalt, and gravel jutted out of parted lips like fangs.
Ellie glared at the forest of snakes. “Absolutely not.”
They turned as if they were of one mind, absent eyes staring at her in curiosity, and sizzled. The sound of hot asphalt and the hiss of serpents mixed in their magical mouths, and the entire parking lot buzzed with the noise.
To anyone watching, Ellie’s magic would seem rather remarkable—but also untrained, inexperienced, and above all else,dangerous. However, most magical folk were sequestered in their own world, and the sad truth was that—magical or ordinary—people tended to believe of others exactly what they believed of themselves. Ellie found herself rather ordinary, and so those about to meet her were predisposed to believe she was that andonlythat.
Ellie looked at her sizzling serpentine saviors and ordered, “If I don’t have a concussion, you do not exist.Down!”
The serpents dropped but continued to shiver, so that the ground seemed to move. Ellie suspected she must be experiencing vertigo that her mind explained away with the fanciful notion of pavement snakes, and Ellie resolved then and there to call her insurance company to get authorization for an MRI, a CT scan, and a full blood panel. Clearly, something was amiss, and even though the doctors had overlooked it, Ellie knew herself. She was not fanciful.
For now, though, Ellie stomped across the pavement, squishing asphalt snakes under her sensible shoes. The serpents slithered quicklyout of the way. However, as Ellie stepped off the long drive that wasnotfilled with asphalt serpents, she found herself not along the road where she ought to be, but in what appeared to be a meadow suffering from neglect or over-farming. The ground was vaguely brown, as if nothing at all could grow here.
“Well, then, I suppose I’ve died after all,” Ellie muttered.
A nearby bubbling well gurgled like old pipes in need of a plumber. There was no car or driver. In fact, there was no road.
