Page 63 of Collin: Episodes 13-15
Two men with a stretcher raced toward him but not to him, just beside him, to Émeric. Good. They lifted Émeric onto the stretcher and left, taking part of Collin’s heart with him. He tried to stand and go after him. Hands pushed him down.
When had he moved? But move he had, somehow. He strained, looking up at the sky and the helicopter disappearing, hand outstretched. It disappeared and he collapsed beside his Master, trying to touch him.
Richard stirred on the ground, eyes fluttering. His hand flexed. Collin grabbed it, squeezing. Richard’s lips twitched toward a smile. But then there were other hands. More separation. A stretcher for Richard and a stretcher for Collin.
The ambulance was all harsh metal surfaces and lights and too many bodies in a small space. He closed his eyes. They were doing things like cutting off his shirt and taping implements to his skin. The best part was the blanket, but they kept moving it to reach some part of him or another.
Eventually he tuned it out. It was all nothing. He needed it to be nothing. The cold was so large he had to run from it, sinking into his mind where it couldn’t reach him. He’d get to the hospital and then he’d find out if Richard and Émeric were all right. That’s when he’d come back. Until then, he’d wait.
Somewhere in the middle of the ride and arriving he lost time. He didn’t wake up so much as return to awareness. His eyes had been open the entire time, but his brain had recorded nothing. He couldn’t remember how he had come to be where he was.
But he still felt nothing. It just was. And it was still cold.
There were people. It was a hospital. He could recognize that much. He’d been in them so often of late. A man in pink scrubs leaned over him, pointing to his chest and then pointing to Collin. He held up his name tag and tapped the name. Gerald. So, the man’s name was Gerald. Collin tracked Gerald with his eyes as he was wheeled through hallways and into a room where there were more people, but these people didn’t try to talk to him.
Gerald wrote something down and held it in front of his face.
Collin shook his head. That hurt. But he caught Gerald’s eyes and shook his head firmly one more time, just to be sure.
Gerald wrote more stuff down and turned the paper pad back toward Collin:
Shot? No, he did not know that. He looked down at himself and from side to side. There was blood, but there had been a lot of blood at the end. And so much dust. The dust had been eating the blood.
Gerald continued writing:
“Richard? Émeric? Alice?” Collin moved his lips. He felt like he was speaking but he couldn’t be sure.
Gerald gave him soft, sympathetic eyes. He wrote:
Yes, I’m bleeding, but it’s not the blood; it’s the bits of my soul you need to worry about.
He didn’t know he’d passed out until he woke. Or maybe he’d just lost time again. Was that a thing? Maybe they had knocked him out. He was still cold, but there were warm spots on the mattress and over top of him, like maybe the blanket was electric. There was a weird sort of hum in his ears, but that was all he could hear.
There was no one there.
He pushed himself upright. There was a needle in the back of his hand. Something on his finger. The monitor by his bed reflected his heartbeat back at him in pulsing lights.
Need Master. Need Sir.
He pulled out the needle with his left hand, the only one he could use, and pushed himself over the side of the bed. His body was numb and floaty. Drugs. He didn’t want drugs. He wanted to know what was real. What had happened. He stumbled to the door and opened it. There were people in the hall, but no one paused and looked at him. He limped down the hallway, looking into rooms. In the first three, he recognized no one, but in the fourth one was Master. Two nursing assistants were moving Richard from a stretcher to a bed. Collin leaned against the door until they were done, his eyes taking in all of his Master that he could see.
Richard was wrapped in a hospital gown. He had dark sunglasses over his eyes and bandages on his head. His ribs appeared to be taped where the gown was twisted.
Collin slunk into the room. One of the orderlies turned and waved him away. Collin gritted his teeth and pushed past him, sliding to his knees beside Richard’s bed and touching his hand with the tips of his fingers.
His Master’s pulse was strong. Collin pressed his face against the bed, blinking back fierce tears of relief. Still alive. But his hand was limp. Still unconscious.
Collin raised his head, rubbing his eyes to clear them, and searched the room for something to write with. A nurse and two nursing assistants were speaking urgently together at the door, casting looks his way.
Linda stepped into the room. She said something, and the three hospital staffers immediately dropped whatever they had been saying. The nurse spoke quickly and pulled up a chair, motioning Linda farther in. Linda bypassed the chair and knelt next to Collin. She had her purse with her, and she opened it, taking out a pad of paper and a pen.
Collin grabbed her wrist. He needed to know.
She nodded and gave him a bit of a smile, then started writing, letting him watch as the words appeared.
“What for?” Collin begged. He couldn’t hear himself, but Linda appeared to understand.
