What Dreams May Come Ch. 04

Sloan called everyone to order. "Good morning. First order, please welcome the new resident on the 8th Floor, Cowboy, who is roomed with Lake," he said gesturing first to me, then to where Lake was sitting. The room erupted in murmurs, mostly in reaction to Lake's makeover, based upon the number of looks she got compared to the nods of greeting that were sent my way. "Second, this morning, Rope passed away after the removal of his ventilator. Those wishing to pay their respects—"

"Or cut off a piece..." growled Huge Guy, while holding the woman child he abused, to a murmur of approval and other violent suggestions in the room. I guessed irony wasn't Huge Guy's thing, not that I was going to explain it to him.

"Indeed, Rope did not make friends in his time on the 8th Floor. He was deeply troubled and his passage from this world likely brought more relief than grief to those who knew him. For whatever reasons, he arrived to us devoid of empathy, which was a tragedy for him and those who knew him. Empathy, the ability to feel what others feel, is a gift and the beginning of connecting with others, which is what makes this life worthwhile. Let us remember Rope with as much compassion as we can, treasuring and nurturing in ourselves, the gift that he was not given in life." An uncomfortable silence followed Sloan's statement, as he stood in front and stared down those who had spoken. I wondered why the hell Sloan was standing up for the memory of a sociopathic pedophile who had tried to kill me. Then, I heard a sniff near the window and saw Lake wiping tears off her face. Sloan's face softened as he looked near, but not at her.

"Finally, as those of you who have been watching the news will know, there is a pandemic virus that has been spreading quickly around the world for the last 8 weeks. It is highly contagious and appears to be spread by airborne pathogen, as well as surface transfer. The Brethren Hospital is in preparation to receive an average of 10 percent of the individuals in the Denver area who become infected with the virus. There is not much more known at this point, but I think it is not without reason to believe that this situation will affect our floor's residents, as the virus in its most severe cases affects the respiratory system and many patients' conditions deteriorate to the point of requiring intubation and, in some cases, induced coma. I will continue to monitor the facility's pandemic response meetings and provide further information as it becomes available. That is all. Thank you." The room immediately buzzed with discussion that sounded worried, suspicious, and even angry. Everyone began raising questions, from how many people would be housed in each room, to how often sponge baths would be performed with the strain on the hospital staff. Tears began spilling down Cake's cheeks, and many people crowded around her. Sloan, in his robot-like way looked ready to shit bricks as he watched the group trying to comfort and encourage Cake for reasons I didn't understand, but then he looked at me and his expression didn't change, if anything it got even more brick-shittier.

The meeting broke up quickly after that. Sloan ignored a bunch of people trying to ask him questions and came straight for me, taking me by my upper arm and almost dragging me out of the room and down the hall. I was about to tell him to chill out already, when my other arm was seized by Lake who looked just as grim. "Somebody want to tell me what's wrong? What did I do?" I asked.

Lake scrutinized Sloan as she spoke, as though she knew how to read his face like a book. "You just failed two Glasgow tests, Cowboy... and these guys are worried they'll run out of ventilators," Lake said, not looking away from Sloan who looked like he was grinding his teeth into powder.

"Well, calm down already, people! I'm sure I'll pass the next one with some practice. Sheesh! When's breakfast? Let's just sit down, get some eggs, and talk out what we can—"

"You're hungry?" Sloan said, stopping and clenching my arm which weirded me out because I wasn't supposed to be solid.

"Well, yeah... I mean we haven't had anything to eat since I—"

Lake and Sloan looked at each other and began dragging me toward the room at a run. Lake was cursing like a sailor and Sloan was talking himself through a variety options of getting me into my body and somehow signaling someone. We just cleared the doorway and I shook them off, yelling, "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

They hadn't heard me. Sloan and Lake were staring at my corner of the room. The now disconnected food tube machine stood next to a gaping hole where the bed used to be. My fucking body was gone.

"My fucking body's gone..." I observed, astutely.

Lake was pacing where my bed and my really awesome and perfectly fixable body that shouldn't just be tossed out like a used condom used to be. Her cursing was turning into a low wail. Sloan, on the other hand, stood perfectly still with his fingers steepled, his eyes closed. I really didn't take him to be a praying kind of guy, but you know, not everybody is obvious about that kind of thing. Lake apparently took issue with Sloan's quiet moment of reflection because she grabbed his shoulders and started in on him, "Sloan... SLOAN! Fix this! FIX IT! Sloan please... please... please fix it, Sloan... Sloan? SIMON!!" she screamed.

Sloan, or 'Simon' which really wasn't that much better unless you were a wizard or something, opened his eyes. "He still has his ventilator..." he said, for reasons that were obvious only to him, which was annoying. Like Sloan. Or Simon. I had to find a snappy portmanteaux for that, just, you know, not when my body was missing. Sloan looked intently at Lake, not even noticing that her silky white slip had slid off her shoulder a bit and was showing a nibble of pink nipple through the side. Then again, he was Sloan and not me. "Throw us to the third floor," he ordered, holding her shoulders and blocking the pink nipple view. "There may still be time..."