Post by sleepZombie on Nov 3, 2010 23:39:37 GMT -5
Comments and Crit are welcome, considering I will continue to just add onto this first post the more I write. Please keep in mind that editing won't be done until December...but it still encourages me to see your comments!
One of the hardest lessons to learn in life, Alex realized, was that death was forever. He had been seven when the family dog had died and he hadn’t quite comprehended what it meant then. It wasn’t until his older brother, Stephen, had took him aside and told him how they were going to bury good old Rufus six feet under where the worms and bugs and all sorts of other nasty things would eat away at him did Alex understand the meaning of the word dead. He’d spent hours crying and begging their father not to put Rufus in the ground. Alex thought he remembered the family deciding to cremate him instead, keeping his ashes in an urn on the family hearth.
Years later Alex realized that there was an even harder lesson to learn and understand. His brother helped him with that one, too.
Red and blue. He hated those colors, they never meant anything good when put together. Living in a large city meant he saw that particular combination often. It meant crime, it meant pain, it meant danger, and it meant calamity. Tonight was one of those nights that the whole sky seemed to be lit up with red and blue, the eerie, grating wail of sirens bouncing off the concrete walls of buildings and making it so you couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from or how many there were.
“Sit back, son.”
Alex looked over, at the paramedic driving who had called him son. He bit back the urge to retort with ‘You’re not my dad’ but bit the bitter words off before they could escape. He should be grateful of this stranger for rushing them to the hospital like this but all he could feel was anxiety with an acrid undertone of annoyance for the constant red and blue and red and blue and red that filled his vision. Instead he sat back, as ordered, then twisted around in an attempt to see through the window into the back.
“He’ll be alright, he’s in good hands. Just relax kiddo.”
“…I’m not a kid.” Alex didn’t even bother to look at the driver this time, staring at the frenzy of people in the back. Every so often he’d catch a glimpse of Stephen, looking paler than he remembered last glimpse.
“Well how old are you? Sixteen?”
The comment won a contemptuous glance. “Eighteen.” And then he was back to looking through that window, feeling an uncomfortable clench in his chest with every jolt and jiggle of the cab. He was concerned, of course, it was his brother, his flesh and blood. Maybe it was how bizarre the whole situation was that he felt so … detached. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t seem to feel anything more than a distant concern.
It seemed like forever until they finally pulled up in front of the emergency entrance at the hospital. While Stephen was wheeled in on a gurney Alex found himself being ushered through a side door. A polite looking doctor was waiting for him dressed in clean scrubs and looking as though he’d had the graveyard shift. “Mr. Phelps? I’m Dr. Zegler. Judging from your last names you’re related?”
“Yeah.” Alex’s shoulders hunched uncomfortably as he looked down at the ground. People used to mistake them as twins. Did they look that different now that it took a similar last name to be able to connect their relation? “I’m his brother.”
“Oh, good. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, then. Here, this way.” Dr. Zegler nodded his head towards the end of the hall, hands finding the pockets of his lab coat as he started walking. “Is there any history of heart failure in your family?”
“No.”
“Does he have any allergies you know of?”
“Uhm. I don’t think so…”
Dr. Zegler glanced sidelong towards the boy. “Are your parents here, or are they on their way? Or has your brother visited this facility before?”
Alex’s lips thinned as he stuffed his own hands into the pocket of his sweater. “He’s been here before.”
“Look, son-“
“You’re not my dad.”
The doctor stopped, reaching out to put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, effectively stopping the boy in his tracks and forcing him to look up at him. Dr. Zegler’s brows furrowed, leaning forward a little to scrutinize the young man’s face. “Are you alright?” The way he was acting wasn’t too uncommon, all signs pointed towards a child who was in shock.
“I’m fine.” Alex shrugged his shoulders, throwing the doctor’s hand off and scowling down at the linoleum. “Just…”
“Yes…?”
“Never mind. It was just weird.” And then, even after he’d decided he wouldn’t say anything, Alex found himself spilling his guts in a rush of words. “His girlfriend just kind of went nuts on him all of a sudden. They got into a fight or something… anyway he said she-“
“Bit him?”
Alex looked up, brows furrowed. He realized Dr. Zegler was staring at him intently, one hand reached up to clutch at the neck of his starched white jacket. “No…” He leaned back to regain his personal space. “She kicked him out. Uh.”
“Oh. Oh yes, right.” The doctor let out a sigh, his expression lightening some as he nodded. He motioned with his hand that they should continue walking. “What symptoms has your brother been showing, then? We’ve been having a nasty illness going around lately, you know.”
Alex followed, keeping a step or two behind the doctor as he went. He really hated getting the third degree from some stuffy surgeon but this kind of thing was necessary, he guessed. Just spill and get it over with. “Yeah, that Old Man Putrid or whatever thing that’s been going around?” They finally reached a room that seemed to recognizably be a nurse’s station only to continue walking through a set of swinging doors and down a new set of hallways. “He’s got a fever, he’s been puking all over the place.” Alex shrugged. “The usual kind of flu stuff, I guess? It was only just now that he started to get really bad. He couldn’t get up to throw up in the bathroom anymore and he started passing out while he was getting sick. So…”
“You called the ambulance.” Dr. Zegler nodded and pushed open a door, leading the boy into the lobby. About half a dozen other people were scattered around the sterilized white room. He waved a hand over to the row of seats. “Thank you very much, Mr. Phelps. We’re a little bit busy today, as you can see, but you’re brother will be put into intensive care where we’ll be observing him. If you’d like to take a seat we’ll call you in when we feel he’s stabilized or if you need to get back to… school, or work you could leave a number we can reach you at with the nurse at the front desk there.”
“I’ll stay.” Alex ignored the doctor’s extended hand and turned into the lobby. He heard the doors shutting behind him as he slid into one of the cold, faux wood chairs and stared out the windows. All around him there were people huddled together or against the walls. They stared silently or talked loud and obnoxiously on their cell-phones. There were a few kids running around, bored and getting in everyone else’s way because their parents were too busy stuffing their faces on stale candy bars from the vending machines. God he hated the general public.
With a sigh the moody teen took out his earbuds, cranked up the sound on his mp3 player and deftly tuned out the world around him. He closed his eyes and let himself sink down into his seat, falling into an uncomfortable sleep to red and blue and red and blue and red flashing behind his eyes.
“Mr. Phelps?”
“Nhgh?” Alex opened his eyes groggily in time to see a pretty, dark skinned nurse stand up straight. He squinted up at her, slouched down and leaned over onto the arm of the chair next to him. The lobby was possibly even fuller than when he closed his eyes. He got up, blinking owlishly and yawned. “How long have I been waiting?”
She checked the watch on her wrist. “Maybe two hours or a little more. Sorry for the inconvenience, we’ve just been so full tonight. Lots of people coming in with cases of that new flu going around. If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to your brother’s room.”
“Is he alright?” Alex fell into step, immediately awake and alert.
“A bit groggy… he’s not feeling so well and he’s still running a bit of a fever but he’s stable enough for you to visit for a few minutes.” She stopped in front of a door marked with a number, hand on the knob as she looked over at Alex. “It was a good thing he came in when he did. We can give you fifteen minutes, but then we’ll have to ask you to leave so he can get some real rest, alright?” She opened the door to let him in, giving him a wide, bright smile before walking off down the hall, her departure marked by the clack of her heeled shoes.
Alex poked his head nervously inside, unsure of what to expect exactly. Last he’d seen of Stephen had been a bumpy view from the front of a speeding ambulance in escort by a couple of police cars. He’d been so pale, and the paramedics had been in such a frenzy to stab him with needles. It hadn’t been very comforting. It came as a surprise when he cleared the door and saw his brother laying peacefully on the flat hospital bed, the back tilted up for added comfort. There were a number of tubes and wires attached to him, giving him fluids and monitoring his heart rate. He looked pale and sunken but alive.
“Hey?” Alex closed the door behind him, stepping in a little further. He reached the end of Stephen’s bed and rested his hands on the foot-board, staring intently at his brother’s face. He didn’t realize how tense he was until Stephen cracked open his eyes and looked at him. “You look like shit.”
Stephen gave a wheeze of a laugh, wincing immediately. “Thanks.” His voice was raspy and dry sounding.
Alex shuffled around and pushed the plush armchair closer to the bedside, flopping down into it and leaning back. “So you got that Putrid thing?”
“They don’t think so.” Stephen reached up to rub one of his eyes, his other hand held down at his side and as still as possible to avoid jostling the IV that was stuck in through his arm.
“Well that’s good, isn’t it? The news was saying people were dying from it, weren’t they?”
---1,848
Z - A Working Title
One of the hardest lessons to learn in life, Alex realized, was that death was forever. He had been seven when the family dog had died and he hadn’t quite comprehended what it meant then. It wasn’t until his older brother, Stephen, had took him aside and told him how they were going to bury good old Rufus six feet under where the worms and bugs and all sorts of other nasty things would eat away at him did Alex understand the meaning of the word dead. He’d spent hours crying and begging their father not to put Rufus in the ground. Alex thought he remembered the family deciding to cremate him instead, keeping his ashes in an urn on the family hearth.
Years later Alex realized that there was an even harder lesson to learn and understand. His brother helped him with that one, too.
---
Red and blue. He hated those colors, they never meant anything good when put together. Living in a large city meant he saw that particular combination often. It meant crime, it meant pain, it meant danger, and it meant calamity. Tonight was one of those nights that the whole sky seemed to be lit up with red and blue, the eerie, grating wail of sirens bouncing off the concrete walls of buildings and making it so you couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from or how many there were.
“Sit back, son.”
Alex looked over, at the paramedic driving who had called him son. He bit back the urge to retort with ‘You’re not my dad’ but bit the bitter words off before they could escape. He should be grateful of this stranger for rushing them to the hospital like this but all he could feel was anxiety with an acrid undertone of annoyance for the constant red and blue and red and blue and red that filled his vision. Instead he sat back, as ordered, then twisted around in an attempt to see through the window into the back.
“He’ll be alright, he’s in good hands. Just relax kiddo.”
“…I’m not a kid.” Alex didn’t even bother to look at the driver this time, staring at the frenzy of people in the back. Every so often he’d catch a glimpse of Stephen, looking paler than he remembered last glimpse.
“Well how old are you? Sixteen?”
The comment won a contemptuous glance. “Eighteen.” And then he was back to looking through that window, feeling an uncomfortable clench in his chest with every jolt and jiggle of the cab. He was concerned, of course, it was his brother, his flesh and blood. Maybe it was how bizarre the whole situation was that he felt so … detached. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t seem to feel anything more than a distant concern.
It seemed like forever until they finally pulled up in front of the emergency entrance at the hospital. While Stephen was wheeled in on a gurney Alex found himself being ushered through a side door. A polite looking doctor was waiting for him dressed in clean scrubs and looking as though he’d had the graveyard shift. “Mr. Phelps? I’m Dr. Zegler. Judging from your last names you’re related?”
“Yeah.” Alex’s shoulders hunched uncomfortably as he looked down at the ground. People used to mistake them as twins. Did they look that different now that it took a similar last name to be able to connect their relation? “I’m his brother.”
“Oh, good. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, then. Here, this way.” Dr. Zegler nodded his head towards the end of the hall, hands finding the pockets of his lab coat as he started walking. “Is there any history of heart failure in your family?”
“No.”
“Does he have any allergies you know of?”
“Uhm. I don’t think so…”
Dr. Zegler glanced sidelong towards the boy. “Are your parents here, or are they on their way? Or has your brother visited this facility before?”
Alex’s lips thinned as he stuffed his own hands into the pocket of his sweater. “He’s been here before.”
“Look, son-“
“You’re not my dad.”
The doctor stopped, reaching out to put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, effectively stopping the boy in his tracks and forcing him to look up at him. Dr. Zegler’s brows furrowed, leaning forward a little to scrutinize the young man’s face. “Are you alright?” The way he was acting wasn’t too uncommon, all signs pointed towards a child who was in shock.
“I’m fine.” Alex shrugged his shoulders, throwing the doctor’s hand off and scowling down at the linoleum. “Just…”
“Yes…?”
“Never mind. It was just weird.” And then, even after he’d decided he wouldn’t say anything, Alex found himself spilling his guts in a rush of words. “His girlfriend just kind of went nuts on him all of a sudden. They got into a fight or something… anyway he said she-“
“Bit him?”
Alex looked up, brows furrowed. He realized Dr. Zegler was staring at him intently, one hand reached up to clutch at the neck of his starched white jacket. “No…” He leaned back to regain his personal space. “She kicked him out. Uh.”
“Oh. Oh yes, right.” The doctor let out a sigh, his expression lightening some as he nodded. He motioned with his hand that they should continue walking. “What symptoms has your brother been showing, then? We’ve been having a nasty illness going around lately, you know.”
Alex followed, keeping a step or two behind the doctor as he went. He really hated getting the third degree from some stuffy surgeon but this kind of thing was necessary, he guessed. Just spill and get it over with. “Yeah, that Old Man Putrid or whatever thing that’s been going around?” They finally reached a room that seemed to recognizably be a nurse’s station only to continue walking through a set of swinging doors and down a new set of hallways. “He’s got a fever, he’s been puking all over the place.” Alex shrugged. “The usual kind of flu stuff, I guess? It was only just now that he started to get really bad. He couldn’t get up to throw up in the bathroom anymore and he started passing out while he was getting sick. So…”
“You called the ambulance.” Dr. Zegler nodded and pushed open a door, leading the boy into the lobby. About half a dozen other people were scattered around the sterilized white room. He waved a hand over to the row of seats. “Thank you very much, Mr. Phelps. We’re a little bit busy today, as you can see, but you’re brother will be put into intensive care where we’ll be observing him. If you’d like to take a seat we’ll call you in when we feel he’s stabilized or if you need to get back to… school, or work you could leave a number we can reach you at with the nurse at the front desk there.”
“I’ll stay.” Alex ignored the doctor’s extended hand and turned into the lobby. He heard the doors shutting behind him as he slid into one of the cold, faux wood chairs and stared out the windows. All around him there were people huddled together or against the walls. They stared silently or talked loud and obnoxiously on their cell-phones. There were a few kids running around, bored and getting in everyone else’s way because their parents were too busy stuffing their faces on stale candy bars from the vending machines. God he hated the general public.
With a sigh the moody teen took out his earbuds, cranked up the sound on his mp3 player and deftly tuned out the world around him. He closed his eyes and let himself sink down into his seat, falling into an uncomfortable sleep to red and blue and red and blue and red flashing behind his eyes.
---
“Mr. Phelps?”
“Nhgh?” Alex opened his eyes groggily in time to see a pretty, dark skinned nurse stand up straight. He squinted up at her, slouched down and leaned over onto the arm of the chair next to him. The lobby was possibly even fuller than when he closed his eyes. He got up, blinking owlishly and yawned. “How long have I been waiting?”
She checked the watch on her wrist. “Maybe two hours or a little more. Sorry for the inconvenience, we’ve just been so full tonight. Lots of people coming in with cases of that new flu going around. If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to your brother’s room.”
“Is he alright?” Alex fell into step, immediately awake and alert.
“A bit groggy… he’s not feeling so well and he’s still running a bit of a fever but he’s stable enough for you to visit for a few minutes.” She stopped in front of a door marked with a number, hand on the knob as she looked over at Alex. “It was a good thing he came in when he did. We can give you fifteen minutes, but then we’ll have to ask you to leave so he can get some real rest, alright?” She opened the door to let him in, giving him a wide, bright smile before walking off down the hall, her departure marked by the clack of her heeled shoes.
Alex poked his head nervously inside, unsure of what to expect exactly. Last he’d seen of Stephen had been a bumpy view from the front of a speeding ambulance in escort by a couple of police cars. He’d been so pale, and the paramedics had been in such a frenzy to stab him with needles. It hadn’t been very comforting. It came as a surprise when he cleared the door and saw his brother laying peacefully on the flat hospital bed, the back tilted up for added comfort. There were a number of tubes and wires attached to him, giving him fluids and monitoring his heart rate. He looked pale and sunken but alive.
“Hey?” Alex closed the door behind him, stepping in a little further. He reached the end of Stephen’s bed and rested his hands on the foot-board, staring intently at his brother’s face. He didn’t realize how tense he was until Stephen cracked open his eyes and looked at him. “You look like shit.”
Stephen gave a wheeze of a laugh, wincing immediately. “Thanks.” His voice was raspy and dry sounding.
Alex shuffled around and pushed the plush armchair closer to the bedside, flopping down into it and leaning back. “So you got that Putrid thing?”
“They don’t think so.” Stephen reached up to rub one of his eyes, his other hand held down at his side and as still as possible to avoid jostling the IV that was stuck in through his arm.
“Well that’s good, isn’t it? The news was saying people were dying from it, weren’t they?”
---1,848