The Coming

Awake and Alive

Coming out of a drug enforced sleep is not easy, it is a struggle to climb back into your concious self and takes hours of slowly sipping tea, and small bites of buttered toast before you resemble anything of your previous character – at even the worst of times. I was in such a condition as I lay in my hospital bed working my mind back into shape, taking in my surroundings and watching the nurses make their rounds. There looked to be at least nine other patients in this ward, male and female, so far no sign of Scully or the girl. I tried asking the nurse who brought me tea and toast but she ignored me and left to go about her business. Having nothing to distract me from my worries about Scully and unanswered questions I spend my time slowly building a grudge against that nurse, watching her as she ignores other patients as well. Particularly repellant is her callousness when dealing with an old man across from me as he moans in pain. She tells him to stop making a fuss about nothing and places an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth which as far as I can tell only benefits the nurse in that his cries are less audible.

All this grudge bearing is tiring, and the soft matress and clean bedclothes are too inviting to resist falling asleep, even if it means having to slowly come out of my groggy state all over again. I awake to a familiar face at the end of my bed.

‘Hi there, I am Dr Hawthorne, do you remember me?’

Of course she is one half of the kind couple I was lucky enough to find last night.

‘Yes, I do, you helped us last night, what happened to my friend? – the old woman that was with me?’

Her expression shifts to a more serious one suggesting the incoming of some form of bad news. She moves around the foot of the bed sitting closer to me. ‘Your friend was in a bad way when we arrived at the hospital, you both were in fact, hypothermia is very dangerous, we had to place you both in sleep-induced comas. Your friendis still in her induced coma and we have her in intensive care so we can keep a close eye on her. We have done some initial tests and well, there is no easy way of telling you this but we think it looks like she isn’t going to pull through.’

Dr Hawthornes face turns blurry as the hot tears form and burn my cheeks. She moves closer and pulls one of my hands enclosing it in her warm grasp. ‘I am so sorry, it is clear this is very difficult for you, and I know what I am about to tell you right now won’t comfort you, but maybe it will in the future. Your friend was very sick, she had stage 4 lung cancer, she would not have had long left and without the proper hospice care her declining health would have been very difficult and uncomfortable for her. This will be a much more peaceful way for her to go.’

My whole body shudders with grief and fear, Scully is dying and selflessly all I can think about is how she is leaving me alone, how will I cope without her. Finally I manage to compose myself enough to ask If I can see her.

Dr Hawthorne drops her head and sighs. ‘I will try and arrange that’ she pauses ‘I am afraid, the situation is difficult because, well, because of your living status. We know you are not related from your blood samples and the hospital policy is family only’

’Can’t you just say she adopted me? It is basically the truth anyway’

‘Ill see what I can do’ she takes out a notepad and a small gold pen, the sort of pen someone buys you when they can’t think of a good present.

‘First, I need to get some information from you, most important can you tell me your name?’ She glances at me with raised eyebrows, she is expecting the truth and I am not going to let her have it. ‘Just call me John Doe’ she writes something down and turns to look straight at me.

‘It doesnt matter to me who you are, but the police were here earlier and they are going to want to talk to you about the girl you found in the water. I managed to get them to leave, didnt think it would do you much good to be hassled by them right now.’