All The Odds

Thirty-six

The first time his eyes fluttered open, he registered his body floating in the air with a blood bag hanging on a rod above his head. Or maybe he was being wheeled but he liked the idea of defying gravity better.

There was a sea of unfamiliar faces around him, most of which wore white scrubs, looking at his floating body with grim, unwavering judging eyes. He thought they were angels and he felt like an unwanted guest before them.

The screaming around him had been replaced by solemn conversation among these strange people but he couldn't understand the language they spoke. They all seemed so serious and busy and he wondered if it was his presence that got them all riled them up.

The second time his eyes fluttered open, it was because of a disturbing cry of an infant. Iverson found himself walking in a large, empty hall with white wall on either side of him and smoking mist all around him, preventing him from seeing what was ahead but he kept moving towards the voice of this crying baby and it seemed the further he walked, the farther away the crying got.

He began to get frustrated, why wasn't anyone tending to the baby? Why did he feel like it was calling out to him but he couldn't reach it no matter how fast he walked.

"Is anyone out there?" He called out, his voice reverberated around him but there was no answer and the baby's wail only got louder and insistent. Iverson started to run towards it, he didn't care what was going on there, he just knew he had to get to the baby.

He pushed himself harder and continued running until his legs felt dead from the exertion and his throat too patched to even swallow. It was as if he got stuck on a treadmill, running for days on no end.

And the baby cried still, not once had it stopped. Always just a little bit ahead of him, maybe he should just give up.

He was contemplating this when suddenly out of the mist a figure appeared before him and forced his feet to skid to a halt, Iverson stood back, watching the mist weaving and swirling around the figure he could tell was a man carrying the crying baby he'd been running after  in one hand and a guitar in the other.

Iverson curiously peered at what was taking shape before him, willing the mist to clear up so he could get a proper view.

"Did I teach you nothing about responsibilities?" The man ask chidingly as he emerged from the mist towards Iverson.

"Dad?!" Iverson gasped and took a step back. His dead father stood before him, tall and arrogant as Iverson remembered. There was a scowl on his face that Iverson was used to, it was one the man wore throughout Iverson's teenage years.

"You have no business where you are going. Get out of here now whilst you still can, you have a responsibility to her!" Jason Benson, Iverson's father said with that permanent scowl etched on his face and held out the baby in his hand to Iverson.

"Her?" He asked in confusion, not realizing when he reached for the child but it was suddenly in his hands and Iverson stare down at the tiniest, most fragile human being he'd ever seen. The baby stopped crying almost instantly and grinned up at him, happiness in her glistening blue eyes. Eyes just like his and that of the angry man stood before him.

"Who is she? Where are her parents? What are you doing here, you were dead. Wait, what is this place?" Iverson wasn't sure which question he wanted answer to the most but his father merely glared at him.

"Don't ask me silly questions, boy. Turn around and go back now! You have the chance to be a better man than I ever was, and an even better father."

Before Iverson could ask what the heck he was talking about, he felt a presence behind him and looking back, saw a naked Daniel walking towards them. Only then did Iverson realized he was naked himself but his father was clothed and hadn't say a thing about Iverson's modesty.