In The Arms of an Angel Chapter 4
By: W.B. Harrell
Disclaimer: Consider yourself warned and myself removed from all responsibility if you get caught with this on your computer. WOWSERS!!! My e-mail account was totally and completely flooded with comments! Thanks to everyone! I think I replied to everyone but gave up after a while. If I didn't reply to you, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! OK, time for the embarrassing thing. A certain so-and-so coughcough zippy_tom@hotmail.com coughcough sent me a very mean flame. I won't use the bigotted slurs he used, but I did sell his e-mail address to a very well known spam organization. Heeheeeheee. Thanks again to Matt for being such a good little writer and encourager.
Wisdom for today: School sucks, then we graduate. Work sucks, then we retire. Life's a bitch, then we die.
Dedication: Duh, Zarah. You inspire me, chicky. You are my first true cyber-bud. Keep up the good writing
Chapter 4
I was floating. Flying through the darkness, a dark abyss of nothingness. I was there for what seemed forever. Suddenly, an overpowering light shone around me. it said. I say said very loosely, it was more like a thought.
<Go back, go back and love like you were meant to, my child> said the voice, neither male nor female. I felt...what? I felt? How could I feel? I was dead...
"Sorry, doc, he's gone, the transfusion didn't work, call it," said a voice.
"NO!" said another, "I won't let this one go, he is way too young."
"You can't save every life, Phil, let him go," said the other voice.
I struggled to open my eyes, but found that I couldn't move anything. Nothing would respond. Then, all of a sudden, something clicked. I think I merged with my body. There was a slight beep, then another, then another.
"My GOD!!!" exclaimed the first voice, "how in holy hell did that happen?"
"Believe me," said the other voice, "I don't believe that it had anything to do with hell."
I felt some odd shiver and I found that I could twitch my finger.
"Look at that," said the second voice, "he's coherent."
"Probably just muscle spasms," said the first, "it happens when they...come back."
"Hey, kid," said the first voice, "if you can hear me, moan, or twitch your head or something."
I struggled to do something. I had so little strength. Lifting my finger or moving my vocal cords was like lifting a ten-ton weight. I concentrated on moaning. What came out scared the living shit out of me. I was humming that song. That song that I had heard on MTV. It was eerie.
"What the hell is that?" asked the second voice.
"It sounds like....dammit, what is that song? In the Arms of an Angel?" said the first.
"It is...how does it go?" continued the second, "In the Arms of an Angel, far away from here...something something something."
I felt tears come to my eyes. My parents. I couldn't deal with this, I wouldn't deal with this.
"Oh, shit," said the second voice, "he's slipping again; okay Phil, what is standard procedure for secondary resuscitation?" The darkness came back.
I woke up, I mean really woke up later, I don't know how much later, but later. My throat was dry. I was awfully thirst. I tried pushing myself up in bed, but a pain shot up my chest so strong that I couldn't help but scream out loud.
A loud alarm started pulsing in my ears. I was miserable, my head hurt, my chest hurt, my ears hurt. A troop of nurses ran in.
"Jesus in heaven above!" exclaimed on of them, "he woke up!"
"Just stay right there, Jason, we'll get this thing turned off and notify your family immediatly.
I frowned. Family equaled parents. "I have no family," I rasped. Wow, I hardly recognized my own voice, it was as if I hadn't used it in a long time.
One of the nurses eyed me oddly. "Of course you have family, your mom, dad, and your brothers, and those nice aunts."
"Don't forget that cute uncle," said one of the nurses jokingly.
I tryed to act "distant" as Callie always said I did and raised my eyebrow.
It hurt like crap.
"Oh, don't try anything to strenous, dear, I could list your injuries, but I get off work at five and it's already twelve noon, that's not nearly enough time," said another of the nurses.
"Whatever," I rasped and went back to sleep, not a deep sleep, just a light nap. And I dreamed.
My mom and dad were beside me. Max was curled up at my feet, Wil...Wil? Wil was beside my mom, his eyes half closed and in deep thought. There were my Aunts Jean, Kelly, and Agnes, and of course, Uncle John. There was a doctor, at least I thought he was a doctor.
"He's lucky to be alive, we just have to be patient for him to wake up again; this is all quite normal, after the initial waking comes some lesser sleeps, these are less deep, but still necessary to maintain homeostasis," explained the doctor, or rather the statue of the doctor, as the doctor didn't move.
The image flashed to my mom. "Whatever it takes doctor, we just want our baby to get well again, we were so scared we were going to lose him," said mom's statue as sobbing sounds began and a drop appeared at the corner of her eye.
"Yeah, right," I thought to myself rather bitterly.
"When will he wake up again, doctor?" asked Wil.
"Oh, anytime now, that's why we're allowing all of you to stay in here, even the little one," said the doctor, slowly moving his hand to ruffle Max's hair.
"I'm not little," said Max in his best grown up voice. I could see the corners of Dad's mouth turn up.
"So, he'll be waking up within the hour?" asked Dad hopefully.
"As, I said, Mr. Porter, he may or may not wake up within the hour, however, it will be soon."
The dream ended and I opened my eyes. It wasn't a dream. Everyone was standing there, except the doctor was there staring off into space. Max was still curled up at my feet, his head was directly by my side. I smiled and pulled up my hand and ruffled his hair. He looked up at me amazedly.
"Hey, Maxxie," I said, using my pet name for him. He grinned and hopped on me, knocking the breath out of me and nearly killing me. I sucked in a big breath of air, trying to dull the pain. "Jason, Jason, Jasonnnn!!!" he yelled.
Suddenly, the pressure was gone and Max was at my side instead of on me.
"Oh, God," said my mom as she put her hand on her mouth and sank down into a chair beside my bed. My grabbed my hand and sunk to his knees, crying his heart out into my hand. Wil smiled and wiped a tear from his cheek, his other hand was holding Max's.
"Welcome, back, lil' bro," he said. I grinned. It hurt.
After the tears and moans, I managed to learn what had happened to me. I was hit by a Volkswagon Beetle, one of the new models, lime green. The lady who hit me was named Tammie Whelk, she was a thirty-six year old payroll supervisor for a company called Seqoyah Wood Products. Her fifteen year old son was in the car with her.
I broke my left arm in two different places, my right in one. I had a concusion, a laceration on my left leg, and a gravel scrape on my right calf. I had a small cut just above my left eyebrow from a piece of flying gravel. And I had been in a coma for a month and a half.
I lost a great deal of blood from the laceration on my left leg, I would have bled to death if it wasn't for the kid who's mom had hit me. He was my blood type (AB-) and didn't hesitate to give me a immediate transfusion. (According to Mom, he took it worse than she did.)
"So that's what happened...in a nutshell," said dad.
"A small nutshell," I said, "without the juicy nut inside."
Mom's eyes began to tear up. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us for those...terrible, awful...wrong things we said to you," she begged as she clasped my hand.
"We love you so much, you have to believe us when we say that we didn't mean them," muttered Dad, struggling not to cry.
I should have forggiven them then and there, I loved them so much, they were my parents after all, but I felt too bitter, they had hurt me so badly.
"Oh, you meant them all right, I can attest to that," I said coldly.
"We've changed!" moaned Mom before sinking into another bout of tears.
"We reconciled with Wil, if that makes you feel any better," said my dad.
"Why couldn't you have done that before I got hurt," I asked, knowing that it wasn't fair, that it was a low blow.
"I really don't know son, I guess you showed us how important family is; it doesn't really matter what or who they are, they will always be your family and always deserve your love no matter what," said my dad.
When he said that, whatever in me that hated them began to melt.
"Whatever," I said.
"Well," said Mom, "we'll leave you alone so you can think about..." she didn't finish.
They picked up their stuff and began to walk out.
"So did this kid that saved me have a name?" I asked.
My mom looked at my dad and turned back. "Yes, I think it was... Chaz," she said before they left.
Chaz. Hmmm. Chaz, my guardian angel. My angel. In that instant, I remembered where I had seen his eyes before... in the mirror. His eyes, his windows of the soul, matched mine completely. Providence strikes again.
So that's it for this chapter. No matter what my character thinks, I still hate his parents for what they did to him. I guess that that's the essence of good writing. It makes you FEEL. Well, I hope I've made you feel. Don't worry guys, give me a chapter or two, and I'll give you a sex scene.
Keep on e-mailing. Hugs, W.