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Chapter Twelve.

He leaned forward with a gasp. It made all the two nurses attending to him (and the one looking in on the old Jasper the next bed over) jump. Poor Jasper's catheter went in a little too far that day.

His arms flung. Other nurses had to come in to restrain him. Beverly, the mother of two who hasn't been able to go on a run in five years, hoped -- really hoped -- that the medical student who played middle linebacker in undergrad, would rush in. This patient was screaming and swinging. Crying out about a "beast" that was coming for him. While not the strangest thing Beverly has ever heard uttered by someone snapping back to life from a coma (that being a French recitation of a McDonald's menu by someone who claimed to have never left the country let alone learn another language) it was one of the scariest.

Not because she was worried about any actual beast showing up, but because this man, who was dead asleep when he came in with a concussion and broken wrist, was screaming with such intensity it made her heart skip a beat.

Who could be that scared of something not real?

Nurse Middle Linebacker rushed in and was able to restrain him by pinning his arms against the bed while Beverly administered some, what she likes to call, night-night juice. The patient caught his breath just long enough to realize,

"My wrist is broken."

And that's when the night-night juice hit.

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His hand was already in the dirt. His wrist was next. It emitted a pain so intense he was surprised it was still connected.

The next tug pulled him even deeper into the ground and reassured him it was connected just fine. The dirt was piling up in his armpit.  The long blades of grass were just beginning to tickle his nostrils.  The large red hand of the beast reached out of the ground once more.  It's hot, sticky palm slams down upon his shoulder.

If he wasn't dead yet, he was about to be.  He just knew it.  He also knew that whatever was gonna happen was gonna suck.  Big time.

He didn't realize that April was screaming right by his ear misty because he was also screaming as loud as possible.  His jacket was slipping through her fingers no matter how she grasped it.  Her efforts were futile.

Rog felt a burst of hot air from the ground.  As though a thin layer of dirt is all that stood between him and the Beast's snarling jaw.

Right as his face was about to meet the dirt and find out, he stopped moving.  He thought time had paused until the red hands pulling on him seemed to jiggle him.  Like they were surprised that he was stuck. 

Rog was surprised too.  Even more so when he saw that it was Timmy standing by his ankle, holding on to him. 

"Wake up."

"What? Kid, what the hell are you tal—"

"You need to wake up.  NOW."

The low growl from the Beast transforms into a distant echo.   One that undeniably sounds like that of a defiant, "NO".

And it was then that April screamed back, joining her brother's cry.

"NOW, ROG!  WAKE UP, NOW!"

And just like that, he was gone.  

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Beverly and Nurse Middle Linebacker (who he later reminded her, that his name was Bryant) talked about chaos this man, Roger Stevens Grace, had brought them this evening.  Not to mention the craziness the EMTs went through to get him here.  

He was sleeping now.  Beverly wishes it would have made things calmer, yet he kept twitching, like he had a pinched nerve that compelled his arm to jolt every few minutes.   It had to be hell on the broken wrist that it was connected to.   And the raspiness with his breath.   A few slow breaths here and there, followed by sudden, high-pitched gasps that catch her off guard every.  Single.  Time.  

He's not in a coma yet, but depending on the extent of his head injury, possible brain trauma, etc., Beverly figured he could be induced into one for a few days.  He's on enough drugs that he should be comatose, but he's it's like he's fighting it.

Beverly had never been so disturbed during her 13 years working the ER. 

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When Rog opened his eyes, it was a sight to behold.  It was this cute girl-- no, he's getting away from saying "girl", he means woman-- no-- person who happens to be female whom he admires greatly, looking down at him.  

Forget that there was nothing but a sea of vast grayness making up the sky all around them.  Or that her little brother, the one who died when she was a kid, was standing there next to them.   In this blissful moment, free from red monsters, in a place he didn't know, yet one that was still more familiar to him than the other place (gosh, was it a hospital room he woke up in? ), he looked at April and she looked at him.

And it made him feel good. 

And that was it.

"Where did you go?"

"Hi April."

"Yeah, hi, where did you go?"

"I woke up and I was in a bed and I just wanted to run away, but there were needles in my arm and this just, man, this giant dude, just came over and pushed me back into bed.  And then...  I was here."

It was Timmy who determined he was in a hospital.  Which sounded about right to Rog.  It brought a slight reassurance to Timmy for reasons April an Rog didn't quite understand.

"Don't you see?"

Rog and April didn't.  They had no idea what this child was talking so maturely about so suddenly. 

Timmy looked to April, as though she were somehow in on it. 

"He can go back.  He can go back and he can find me."