Undertow by K.R. Conway (1st book in trilogy)

Chapter 24

It was my worst fear come true. I was stuck between the world of the living and the afterlife, I was sure.

I couldn't see a damn thing or even move, since gravity apparently had increased ten-fold. My skin felt cold, as if I had been chilled by the weather and Novocaine numb.

Death sucks.

I could even hear my ancestors, calling my name. Loudly. Repeatedly. Actually, it was getting a tad irritating. One was even saying that I was coming around and that something was wearing off.

Wait . . .Wearing off?

I refocused my mind and attempted to see through the blackness and suddenly there was a bright flash of light.

"She's trying to open her eyes! Eila! Can you hear me?" said the nagging male voice, almost breathless, as if he had run a marathon. I couldn't respond, but the voice sounded like . . . MJ? Oh god, did I somehow kill him too? I wanted to call to him, but all that came out was a low, ragged moan.

"She's coming around quickly," said a brisk, female voice followed by others jumbled together. I was starting to get feeling back in the tips of my fingers and toes. I tried to see again and I got another flash of light.

"Doctor, do you want me to give her some Versed?" asked the brisk voice.

Doctor? What doctor? What the...?

"No, let's just extubate her quickly before she starts fighting it," said an older male voice. "Eila, if you can hear me, this is Doctor Wainright. We are going to take the tube that has been helping you breathe out of your throat, since you are doing well on your own."

My first foggy thought was that I was thrilled to be alive, but that was quickly followed by panic about a tube down my throat, which I couldn't seem to feel.

I heard MJ's tense voice, "Her heart rate is up. She's not in pain is she?"

No one responded, but I did, in fact, start to feel a general ache through a large portion of my body. I suddenly had the urge to cough and in doing so my head started to pound.

Uh, yeah, she was definitely in pain. I felt like I had smacked into a brick wall doing 40.

"All done," said the male voice. "Let's get some oxygen on her."

I could hear sounds around me more clearly, including a rhythmic beeping and hissing. Someone had placed something over my nose and mouth and it caused cool air to flow over my face.

"Eila. Can you try and open your eyes?" asked the woman.

Though my body responded sluggishly to my requests, I managed to move my fingers and was rewarded with someone squeezing my hand. Another hand, which I realized, had been holding mine. "Eila? Eila – it's MJ. Can you open your eyes for me? Can you squeeze my hand again?"

Focusing every ounce of determination I had, I managed to flex my hand again and a strong squeeze clutched my fingers. I got another flash of light and realized I was blinking. After a few more attempts, I managed to keep my eyes open, though barely.

It was then that I could see the blurred but sterile environment of a hospital room. I looked around slowly and saw a doctor in a white, long coat standing next to my bed. Behind him were two nurses.

My hand was squeezed again and managed to turn my wobbly head to see MJ, sitting beside my bed, holding my hand. He was smiling at me, but his face looked like it had gone a few rounds with a WWF fighter in a cage of thorns. He had cuts over his cheekbone, eyebrow, and lip, and black and blue blotches on his face and arms. The cuts were held together with little white strips of tape.