All That Blooms in Spring Ch. 01

As I wandered along the path, I also wondered how long I might be alone. I'd always hated being alone. I'd never felt as alone as when my parents had died suddenly. They'd been all I had until Jackie. My only other living relative, besides Jackie, was some distant cousin near Modesto. Being completely alone, I thought, would be the hardest part. Still, I had a few co-workers that I got on with alright. I supposed I could eventually make new friends, and through them, hopefully, some new acquaintances.

My heart was heavy out there in the crisp night air of the forest. I'd given absolutely everything to my relationship with my wife. I'd put all my eggs in one basket, and had been completely and utterly devoted. Getting along without her was inconceivable to me just then.

The trail had narrowed and become littered with large rocks, some almost the size of bowling balls. In some places, it was barely two-and-a-half feet wide. Shining the light to my right, I saw a steep incline, and over to my left a steep down slope, ending in what I guessed was a ravine. My light couldn't find the bottom. I had no idea how long Id' been walking with only my thoughts as company. It was clear I'd probably taken the wrong turn at a 'Y.'

It was time to go back. Hopefully, Jeff and Alise had sorted out the drunken Amber and put her to bed in her own cabin. I'd try to get a few hours' sleep, and get up and out early. With all the sex going on, I was sure Jackie and the others would sleep in a bit. Jackie still had friends to give her a ride home - though I wasn't sure she'd even bother coming home at all. Once I was home, I planned to pack my stuff and find a one-bedroom apartment. I wondered how Jackie would feel finding me gone.

As I turned, careful with my footing, I heard a rustling in the brush just up the slope. It was very close. I tripped on something and barely caught my balance, only to hear more shuffling. Leaning to my right, the ground gave way and I spilled over the edge. I lost the flashlight in my vain attempt to grab something. Finally, about four or five feet into the slide, I grabbed a limb. That stopped my downward momentum, but I was hanging by a thread. I saw death as a real possibility right then.

I tried to improve my hold on the limb, but I could feel it giving way from my weight. Small rocks and debris fell as I tried to get some sort of foothold. I never heard any of it hit the bottom. Finally, resolved the limb wouldn't hold, I used my feet to propel me out away from the cliff face. I didn't remember the actual fall. At some point, I opened my eyes, only then realizing that one of them wouldn't. I could feel something crawling on my face, but for reasons unknown, I couldn't use my arms or hands to get it off. I felt immense pain, and then I was asleep.

I remember dreaming - a lot. The dreams seemed real, but as time went on I understood they were only dreams. There wasn't any continuity. I'd be somewhere with Jackie, or with my parents, and suddenly, I'd be elsewhere. No one can be in their office at work one minute, and the next, hiking in the rugged California mountains. As the truth became clearer and clearer, I started yearning for some moment in time that was actually happening - something real to grasp onto.

I was in a hospital bed, only it didn't look or feel like a hospital bed. There was an IV and lots of bandages. I could move my left arm, but the right, with the IV, was immobile, as were both of my legs. As I tried to focus on my lower extremities, I took in the scenery past my feet.

I was in a cottage of some sort. The walls and ceiling were all log. The bed I was in was also of a log décor. I wasn't in a hospital. Damn, another dream, I thought. I reached up to my head with my free hand, and discovered the entire thing bandaged above my eyes. There was a scuttling about in the distance. I tried to speak. The function was there, but the words were only whispers.

I closed my eyes, trying to make the dream change. After five times of reopening them, I began to wonder. If I couldn't talk, maybe I could scream, or make some sort of noise. Finally, I did. Then I heard the footsteps approaching, I closed my eyes again, exhausted. When the footsteps stopped, I reopened them. Before me was an angel.

"Peter, you're awake," the angel said to me. "Don't try to move. You've been in a terrible accident. You're healing, so try to relax. My name is Dr. Ann Pierce." I didn't know angels had proper names, but since I couldn't say anything, my only option was to listen.

Listen I did. The angel named Ann Pierce had found me in the woods, my body mangled and lying in a deep ravine. I'd been in bad shape - near death, she told me. Instead of describing my injuries in greater detail, Ann the angel went on to me about herself. I found that odd, but my lack of voice kept me from intervening. According to her, she wasn't an angel, but an actual doctor.

"I was a doctor," she said, "at Chicago's Northwestern Memorial Hospital - a surgeon, actually, in the specialty of head trauma. Lucky for you, I left that job fifteen months ago and moved here, to the woods. Your skull was fractured in two places. You had bleeding on the brain - a cerebral edema - causing swelling and bruising. I had to relieve the pressure. You've recovered, mostly, from that."

I tried again to speak, wanting to interrupt. "Don't try to talk," she warned. "I'll be right back." Dr. Ann returned with a small bowl.

"Here," she said, "just let this ice melt in your mouth. You haven't spoken in some time, so we've got to start generating some saliva - get you swallowing again so that your vocal cords can function. Don't try to chew."

She was right about the swallowing. It felt as though I had forgotten how, and it took several attempts to relearn it. I was completely worn out just from that, and she must have noticed.

"That's enough for now," she said softly. "You need to rest. I'll be back in a few hours, and we're going to try some warm chicken broth. I know you have tons of questions. I suggest you try to decide their importance in order. It's going to take a day or two before you're talking normally. I'll answer them all, just not at once."

I tried to sleep, as exhausted as I was, but sleep did not come. I had too many thoughts, and they became questions - questions I couldn't answer and couldn't ignore. The first was whether I was truly awake and no longer dreaming. The second was why Jackie wasn't there with me.

The third was more poignant and frightening: was I Doctor Ann Angel's patient, or her prisoner?