Mountain Air

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The slow and steady beeping noise brought me back and I couldn't stand to have my eyes closed anymore, for fear of the visions of That Day. When I immersed myself in the world of light I looked around my room and confirmed my suspicion. I was at the hospital, in a room. The walls were a pale blue and there was a television on the opposite wall. Next to me was a plate of food. In response to seeing the food, my stomach gurgled so I braced my arms on the bed to sit up, but my left arm hurt with the pressure being exerted. I looked down at it and saw it was covered in gauze.

My eyebrows furrowed. I was kind of confused. Honestly, I didn't know why I was in the hospital, or how long I had been there. So instead of sitting up, I laid my head back down on my pillow and thought back, trying to draw the memories out of the darkness.

Slowly, everything made an appearance in my mind. Packing for the camping trip, singing along to the radio on the way to Sheephorn, going swimming, having a bonfire, the fallout with Brett - oh gosh, how my stomach twisted thinking about that - and then... my heart rate picked up when I remembered the growl, and the vision of a spinning world that followed.

The only comforting thought I had was that at least the murderer didn't get me.

The doctor must have noticed my increased heartbeat because a few seconds after I realized I had been attacked and fainted - how embarrassing - my uncle walked into the room.

He wore a pair of mint scrubs and a white lab coat over top. His dark hair was shorter than I remembered but his pudgy nose and smile that brightened anyone's day were the same.

"Quinny. How are you doing today?"

I smiled at my uncle - Doctor Jason Von Neuem - and responded that I was well. I was extremely happy to see him and relaxed immediately. He was the doctor in Shepard and the town of Whitewater, which was very near Sheephorn, and he took his job very seriously so I knew I was in good hands.

"Can you fill me in on what happened?" I asked. I frowned and added, "also, how long I've been out?"

I watched as my uncle walked around the room and took my left arm in his hand. He gently pressed on a spot, where my wrist and hand met, and I let out a hiss. "Still tender," he noted, and wrote on a clipboard.

"Uncle Jason," I started again, "what happened?"

He looked up from his clipboard and sighed. Was it really that bad? I wondered. Then he grabbed a stool and came to sit next to me.

"Don't worry, Quinny," he said as he took in my expression. Uncle Jason reached his hand out and patted my head, making me relax a tenfold. "You're fine. It was a normal occurrence around here, really. What we know is this: your friends heard you scream and they came to find you. You were laying on the beach, out cold. They saw that you were bleeding from your wrist, so they brought you here. You've been here asleep for a whole day. But it's alright, it looks as though you got bit by an animal, some sort of canine, and you'll be up and ready to tackle anything in the next few hours."

I nodded and smiled at my uncle. "That's a relief. I thought I had tripped or something."

Uncle Jason, knowing my humor in tense situations, laughed ebulliently. "I'm glad, too, that you didn't fall again. Oh, thank goodness you weren't found around a bike. Heaven knows what would have happened then!" He grinned ear to ear, taking years off his face.

I glared at him but ended up grinning right back. My uninjured hand unconsciously went up to my eyebrow to touch the scar I had from an unfortunate biking excursion I took when I was nine - I had decided that riding my shiny new pink bike on a set of cement stairs was a wonderful idea. Dare-devil or idiot?