Inveigle

Chapter Fourteen:The Hospital

The sun was just setting as I neared the Hospital entrance. I coughed up black phlegm and spat it out on frozen grass before walking in through the sliding glass doors. The smoke in my lungs seemed to never end. I was greeted with dirty looks from the information desk staff. My appearance was shocking, no doubt. I was afraid they were going to turn me away, but when I asked what room Pam Turner was in, they politely told me to go to the fourth floor to room 403 after a few quick clicks of the mouse. Pam was awake when I walked into her room. I knew she was back to feeling somewhat normal because the news was on the small t.v. above her bed. She turned the volume down and smiled at me when I knocked. I took a seat in the worn guest chair with cracked faux leather.

I wanted to scream when I saw that a quarter of her head was bandaged from a burn. I choked down my fear. I didn't want to upset Pam.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

She inhaled slowly, "Okay," she rasped. "I don't remember much."

"It was Sam," I said.

"Sam? He started the damn fire?" The rage in her voice began to rise.

"No, it was Sam who dragged you from The Palace. We were all outside, except you, and he went back in."

Pam didn't reply, but turned her attention back to the tiny screen, but her expression softened like room temperature butter. There was a young local reporter covering a shooting at a convenience store, across the bottom of the screen a reminder scrolled to watch the speech of President Persim's campaign for a 3rd term.

I thought about the protest at the tower. Had that really only been yesterday? How could I have been so stupid. A rock of guilt grew in my stomach.

"I'm going to go see Sam. I'll be back, do you want me to get you anything before I leave?" She shook her head, holding up her nurse call button to show that I was not needed.

Sam was asleep when I found his room on the floor above Pam's. His mop of brown hair was a mess on his forehead, and covered his eyes. I pushed back the strands and took a seat next to his bed. I could feel the metal of the gun pressing into the small of my back. Grabbing a magazine from the table next to the chairs I tried to read, but my eyes wouldn't focus. The night's sleep on the floor had left me unrested, sore down to my bones. The chair felt more comfortable than my bed ever did back at The Palace. I glanced at Sam, he let out a snore. He wouldn't be awake for a while. I laid my head back against the wall and let the darkness wash over me.

I was in a school gymnasium. I knew it was my old high school, but the gym I was standing in could have belonged to any generic high school. Pale maple wood floors with black scuff marks, padded rectangles in faded red along the two shorter walls, and basketball hoops bent upwards for storage.

With a blink there was a huge crowd of students in the bleachers.Their sneakers echoing off the stands as they adjusted themselves to face my direction. I found myself standing behind a glass podium with a speech in front of me on clean, crisp paper. The font was Times New Roman, size 12, double spaced like every high school essay I had ever written. The title was blurred, my eyes were unable to focus on it. Each time I tried, the words would fuzz together like a dark caterpillar.

Eyes were on me from all sides, waiting. A nervous cough came from somewhere near the top of the bleachers. Public speaking used to give me butterflies, but now as I reached for the speech, I felt a sudden calm overtake me, a rock in my assurance even though I had no idea what I was about to read. I inhaled a deep breath and began.

"My fellow classmates, this is the year we move from paths laid out for us to paths we choose. Ideologies of others cannot be our only defining quality. We must look at life like-"