Someone should have been here by now.
I sit alone on one of the cold plastic chairs lining the hospital corridor. Nurses and doctors whoosh past, off to save lives.
Have they saved his yet?
Where is everyone?
The sterile smell of disinfectant cloaks all manner of human maladies. But not well enough that I can’t distinguish the stink of illness and death.
A woman wheels an old man in a plaid dressing gown by in a wheelchair, he’s hooked up to an IV that drags along beside him. The doors at the end of the corridor are thrown open, slamming as they hit the walls, and a gurney is pushed through carrying another patient. The white hospital sheets are stained pink.
I look down at my hands. Jasper’s blood has dried and is beginning to crack.
I should go get cleaned up.
They told me he could be in surgery for a while.
I should get cleaned up, I don’t want to be a mess when he wakes up.
If he…
Where is everyone? Why hasn’t anyone else come yet?
I called his dad. I called Aisha and Melissa. I called my parents.
Someone should have been here by now.
“Max?”
From some far-off place I hear my name.
“Max?”
I hear it again and am able to pull my attention to the blurred figure in front of me. My tired eyes take a moment to adjust and then all of a sudden the world comes rushing back. The beeps of heart monitors, the wheels of gurneys, the doors, the nurses at their station, the clunk of a can hitting the drawer of a vending machine. I haven’t moved since they plonked me on a chair in this hallway. Blood still stains my clothes, only now it’s hard and sticky. In front of me is a large dark figure, slowly coming into focus.
“Max, are you okay?”
The resonant boom of the alpha’s voice pulls me back to reality.
“Jericho?” I ask, sounding like I haven’t spoken in a thousand years.
“Yes, son. It’s me.” Jericho’s face looms too large in my vision, his voice is loud and stings my eardrums. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay?”
I pick at a piece of dried blood, watching as it flakes away and falls to the ground.
“Yes—I—I’m sorry, I should have gotten cleaned up—I…” It suddenly occurs to me I have no idea what time it is. “What’s happening?” I ask, eyes suddenly wide, struggling to my feet despite my aching, numb limbs. “Is he out yet? Is he…?”
Jericho steadies me with his large hands and holds me in place. “I just spoke with the nurses. He’s still in surgery. The internal bleeding is bad and there is damage to his organs. They’re doing everything they can.”
“He’s not—they’re still—” I can’t seem to finish a sentence or form a complete thought. “Is he—?”
“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Jericho says. “And I know you’re shaken but I need to ask you some questions.”
“Questions?” I shake my bewildered head.
“Yes, Max. We need to know what happened. But”—Jericho glances in both directions—“not here. Can you walk?”
I have no idea but I nod anyway. “Uh-huh.”
