The Lost Soul Page 8

  I nodded, having no idea what that saint was supposed to do or how he played in with MRI results, but was happy to hear he was improving nonetheless.

  "Do they have an estimate on how long he'll need to stay in hospital?"

  She gave an almost imperceptible shrug as she moved to the other side of his bed and stroked hair off his face. He looked even worse than he had yesterday. The bruising, which had worried me then, was now a massive purple-yellow island with hints of magenta, while the eye on the left side of his face was swollen completely shut, with ugly black sutures that reminded me of spiders running along his eyebrow and chin.

  One unaffected patch of skin on his cheek kept them from running the entire length of his face and I wondered if the dimple he’d used to his advantage with girls had somehow protected him. I shook the crazy thought off and realized Paul's mom was still speaking to me.

  "I'm sorry, I missed that last part. What did you say?" I gestured to his face in apology. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She nodded as if my words made complete sense. "Of course. He doesn't look much like himself right now. The doctors are hopeful he'll be able to take exams on time. I’ll talk to the school on Monday. I'm hoping he'll just need a week or so to recover before he returns but..." she trailed off.

  I knew we were both worried about the same thing. Would he be able to write his exams? Would he even be the same when he woke up? The damage seemed extensive and considering what had happened, I had my doubts.

  It had all happened so quickly. On Friday he’d been Paul, my best friend, but today...today he was a patient, a survivor of a terrible random act of violence.

  I hoped he was just sleeping and would wake up before we left, but at the same time, I almost didn't want to speak to him in case my worst fears were realized and it was no longer my friend underneath the bruises.

  "Visiting hours are from two until four. Would you like me to get you something from the cafeteria? Or I can sit with the boys while you go, if you prefer?"

  My dad’s tone was solicitous, and she gave him a watery smile at the offer.

  "No, thank you. His father will be here soon with food, and his sisters and I have been taking turns."

  "I can speak to the teachers tomorrow, if that would be easier for you?"

  She shook her head again, but this time her smile was brighter. "I'm sure you’d be happy to do that. As wonderful as the teachers at your school are, they'll be more likely to accept a fantastic story like this coming from his parents over his best friend. It may be in the news right now, but I’ll bet more than one grade twelve boy will be trying to use it as an excuse to delay exams. This sort of thing doesn't happen in Toronto every day. It might sound too close to a ‘dog ate my homework’ for them to believe you."

  My dad snorted and I laughed in spite of the bruised form on the bed.

  "You're probably right. In fact, I think I remember someone trying that a few weeks ago to get out of hockey practice. Do you want us to leave and let him sleep? I can come back tomorrow."

  I’d barely finished speaking when Paul’s good eye popped open. It was the usual warm brown it had always been, but the shadows beneath it told me he was going to be haunted by recent events for a long time.

  As our eyes met, a ghost of a smile curled the undamaged dimple up and so softly I almost couldn't hear him, he joked, "I told you I probably wouldn't be able to make it to hockey practice for the rest of the season."

  He started laughing, but it turned into a cough, then a groan. His mother plumped his pillows again quickly, cushioning him like a baby then handing him a glass of water with a straw.

  He took a small sip, cleared his throat and looked at me again, this time with an unfamiliar solemnity. "I don't know how you saved me Mark, but thank you. They told me if I hadn't gotten to the hospital when I did I might have died. Apparently, they had to put a burr hole to drain some of the pressure. Other than that and my leg, they think I'm going to be okay. They want me to stay a few days to make sure the fluid doesn't re-accumulate, but for now at least, they’re expecting me to make a complete recovery."

  I winced. "A burr hole? Like a hole hole?"

  He smirked. "Yeah. They drilled a hole in my head with like, a Canadian tire drill. They said it’s something they do to keep my brain from doing a hernia thing or something.”

  “Herniating?” My dad offered.

  “Yeah, herniating. I don’t remember that part, thankfully. The hole isn’t as painful as the rest of my face. My eye is the worst. They told me the orbit is fractured so I’ll be seeing plastics and ophthalmology in the next few days too.”

  “Damn, buddy. I’m sorry to hear that.” What could I say? I looked down at his leg, which was propped up on a pillow and changed the subject. "Did Mandy come by yet?"

  He made a slight movement of his shoulder, looking away through the window beside him. Damn. I had touched another sore spot without even trying. Racking my brain for something else to say, I was surprised when he spoke first.

  "I had the strangest dream when I was sleeping, but I don't know when or if it even happened.”

  I paused. “Oh?”

  His voice took on a hollow quality and his good eyebrow raised, giving him a lop-sided appearance as he met my eyes. “I saw you, Mark, and I knew you were going to find me. It was the strangest thing. But I through everything that happened if felt like you were with me, and were going to bring me home. I tried to talk to Mandy about it but she got jealous.” He snorted. “Girls. Apparently I was supposed to be thinking of her while unconscious.”

  I swallowed hard. Mandy was a nice girl but too high strung for me. So not my type. Paul was more laid-back, kind of like my dad, and he was usually able to take that stuff in stride.

  "Did you want me to talk to her at school tomorrow, try to explain for you?"

  Paul started to shake his head but stopped immediately and moaned. "Ow. I keep forgetting not to do that. No, don’t waste your time. She was already starting to get kind of demanding about things with work. Complaining I never spent time with her. Now this happened and well, let's just say I'm reconsidering if I want to spend time with someone who drains my energy. Especially when I need all my energy to get better."

  I expected to see sadness in his face, but to my surprise he was clear-eyed. At least, the one I could see. He had definitely come to a decision.

  "Are you breaking up with her?"

  He shrugged again. "Maybe. Maybe I’ll let her do it. Something tells me a guy who might not be graduating high school or attending any of grad parties on her arm may not be what she's wanting in a guy right now." His lip curled up. “Besides, I'm in no rush. Sounds like I'll be here for at least a week, maybe more. Plenty of time to see how it goes."

  We talked awhile longer, but Paul’s energy was flagging and as his good eye began to drift shut, my dad touched my arm.

  "We should go, Mark. It's time for us to get that thing."

  I nodded agreeably, easily catching my dad’s attempt at an awkward extrication. I realized his actual secret identity may actually be an agreeable, good-natured fumbling father and was impressed.

  Was that how he slid under the radar on jobs?

  I made a mental note to ask how he managed it. Maybe I could work on my own version.

  As we said goodbye to Paul, I hoped it wouldn't be long until he was back at school. It was good to see him awake and talking, but it would be even better when he was back to normal.

  Chapter 15

  The end of school was a breeze. Even with exams to write, nothing fazed me. I'd already been through something far more terrifying than senior Calc and it was easier to convince myself I’d studied enough after managing to literally wrest my friend from the jaws of death.

  That didn't mean everything was easy though. Mandy had been dramatic at school, as expected, telling everyone who’d listen to her how heartbroken she was about her poor boyfriend being kidnapped and almost murdered. I did my best not to roll my
eyes when she could see me, but worried I’d give myself accidental eyestrain the rest of the time.

  When I saw her sneaking out with another one of the guys from the hockey team however, I quickly called her on her behavior. As Paul had predicted, once caught in an awkward situation, she made short work of dumping him. I had my suspicion that was the impetus behind his dramatic recovery. Without her dragging him down, he was back and able to write exams only two weeks after I did.

  He never returned to work though.

  The owner and his wife visited and brought flowers, but because they needed a worker immediately and Paul would have to spend the summer recuperating, they amicably parted ways. I thought it was nice they gave him a few weeks’ cash pay for a parting gift, considering they weren't rollin’ in it. Luckily insurance covered all his medical bills.

  I had just left Paul's room – he had been transferred to the rehab hospital a few days earlier – when I had the strangest sensation, similar to the one I’d had when I'd realized my career path was all wrong.

  The same as the one I had when there was something I needed to find.

  Looking around the lobby, I saw a girl with dark blond hair and a taller man with the same hair color walk out, leaving me alone to carefully examine my surroundings. Nothing struck me as unusual or directed me toward it. It would have been nice to have a sign saying ‘here I am’, but clearly that wasn’t in the cards today. As the feeling faded, I shook my head and exited the hospital. Maybe I was overtired.

  That night I heard the most amazing music in my dream.

  The voice was so rich and beautiful I wondered if I was getting a glimpse into heaven. Like a bell ringing into a clear blue day, the same feeling swept over me that I’d had earlier in the lobby. I knew it was for the same reason, but when I tried to see who was singing, there was only a thick fog rolling across the ground.

  The voice began to fade, but I couldn't let it go.

  I shouted into the darkness. "Who are you?"

  I could still hear the voice but it was farther away, like she was moving.

  Or maybe it was me?

  I ran toward her, knowing the same way I’d known where Paul was that the owner of this voice was going to determine the direction of my life.

  If only I could find her.

  But how? Wasn't I going to go to university and join CSIS like my dad?

  The feeling was more insistent than my confusion and pushed me onward.

  I tried to run but my feet seemed to stay in the same place as the fog deepened.

  Just when I'd given up hope of seeing who was singing, the fog parted. One bright ray of sunshine blinded me, revealing a tall girl in a purple dress.

  She stood alone as if in the center of a stage, hands clasped in front of her, face tilted up as the song brought golden beauty to the world.

  Dark honey blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, and I was left awestruck, my feet rooted in place as I listened. When her song died away, she opened her eyes and she looked straight into mine.

  The intense blue pierced me, lodging like an arrow in my gut.

  I woke up panting, bewildered, but with a deep knowing beyond even my finding ability that it was her.

  It would always be her.

  And someday soon, when the time was right, I would find her, too.

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  The Raven and The Witch Hunter: Honeymoon and Full Moon Blues

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  Watch for more at H. M. Gooden’s site.