Under The Wildflowers | ONC 2024

Chapter 7.

Dominic stood frozen, his mind reeling as he gazed upon Key's face, now aged and weathered.

The man lying before him bore the weight of years unseen, his frame more substantial now. His hair had abandoned its military precision, growing out into a small afro, while a smattering of stubble adorned his chin.

His familiar features had morphed into something different yet unmistakably the same. Despite this, Dominic's conviction remained unshaken— this was Key.

The old woman stirred from her slumber, her wizened eyes slowly opening to reveal surprise at the unexpected sight of Dominic.

Confusion clouded her expression as she peered at him, a deep frown etching itself across her mouth. With a swift motion, she reached out to switch on the lamp by the bedside, casting a soft glow over the room.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" She asked firmly.

"I am deeply sorry, Ma'am," Crystal began to apologize, but her words were interrupted by the solemn tone of Dominic's voice.

"I know him," he whispered, his gaze drifting back to Key's sleeping form. "He's... my friend."

A heavy silence settled over the room, Dominic's words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, casting a weighty tension upon them all. The steady rhythm of the machines served as the sole backdrop to the tense atmosphere, punctuating the stillness with each measured beep.

Amid his uncertainty, Dominic clung stubbornly to his belief that this man was Key. Despite the rational doubts that tugged at his mind, an inexplicable certainty rooted itself within him, refusing to be swayed by mere possibility.

Key had once cryptically claimed to be a ghost, yet here he lay in the hospital bed, undeniably breathing, undeniably real. The idea that this man could simply be a relative or even a doppelgänger felt inadequate in the face of Dominic's intuition.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, young man, but I suggest you leave before I call security," the woman's voice crackled with anger, her frustration palpable.

Dominic hesitated, grappling with the impossibility of the situation. "It's the truth," he insisted. "But it's hard to explain."

Crystal had vanished from the doorway unnoticed by Dominic. The woman's pained expression continued as she made way for the hospital phone.

"He- he has this black shirt," Dominic began, his hand instinctively gesturing to his own attire as if to lend credibility to his words. "With an alligator on it. And he wears thick combat boots."

The woman's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, her face draining of all color as she froze. As Dominic observed her more closely, the details of her features became clearer. She bore the unmistakable marks of age, with dark circles etched beneath her tired eyes and wrinkles tracing the passage of time across her face.

She bore a resemblance to Key, albeit in a softer, more feminine way. They shared an undeniable likeness, suggesting a bond that transcended mere coincidence.

"H-how do you..." the elderly woman began to stammer, but her words were abruptly cut off by Crystal, who had returned with her mother in tow.

"What's happening here?" Mrs. Norbrooke's voice was sharp as she flicked on the hospital light, momentarily blinding everyone in the room.

"Dominic, you shouldn't be here. And Mrs. Lowe, I thought you had left already. Visiting hours ended a while ago," she scolded in exasperation.

Too many strange things had happened to Dominic since meeting Key and Celia for him to simply dismiss this as mere absurdity.