Smilodon

Chapter 2-2

Damn, I’m sore. When I woke up, the first thought in my mind was how my entire body ached. Wait… I thought I was dying. Aw, damn. There’s no way I’m dead; I cannot believe the afterlife smells like that nasty hospital disinfectant when it’s not diluted enough. Holy cow… did they dunk me in a tub of the stuff?

I tried opening my eyes, and for the first moment or so, all I could do was blink. It was all so bright… and white. The ceiling tiles, the curtain surrounding my bed. Everything I could see was a bright white. I felt like I’d been lying down too long, and I wanted to sit up at least. I didn’t feel like I had an IV or anything like that, but I still checked myself just to be sure. Nope. Nothing.

I pushed back the covers and swung my feet over the side of the bed. The world spun around me when I rolled myself into a sitting position. It settled down after a few moments of light-headed weaving, and I looked around my space. My backpack leaned against the wall beside the head of my bed. Ah, ha. There we go.

Even though I should probably have waited to speak with a doctor, I didn’t feel bad per se, beyond the world spinning like a top for a heartbeat or three. And since I’d never been one for hospitals, it was time to expedite my departure. I had to get back to my sucky job, if nothing else.

I moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to standing without the world spinning again, and I took the couple steps necessary to reach my backpack. I felt a wave of unsteadiness pass through me as I leaned over to pick up my pack, but I pressed my hand against the wall for support. I lifted my pack to the bed and withdrew the extra set of clothes I always carried when hiking. Because you know, life happens. I thought it odd that my grandpa’s knife was inside my pack, in its sheath with the belt wrapped around it, but I already had enough weird things to think about. I’d save that one for later.

In short order, I whisked off the awful hospital gown and started getting dressed. By the time I finished buttoning up my shirt, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my clothes didn’t feel right. It was odd, and I couldn’t really explain it. I pushed it to the back of my mind to be something else I’d examine later.

My hiking boots awaited me on the floor by the foot of the bed, and flecks of dried blood now dotted them. I lifted them to my nose and took a quick sniff. Yep… that’s blood, all right. Well, nothing for it. I needed shoes, and the insides of the boots didn’t look bad. I’d wear them out of here—wherever here is—and replace them later.

I was lacing up the second boot when I heard a woman’s voice.

“Hiya, doc! How’s your newest patient?”

“Hello, Gabrielle,” a man replied, his voice carrying the hint of a New England accent and sounding resigned. “He was still sleeping, the last I checked, but you’re welcome to see for yourself.”

Before I could react, a shadow approached the curtains surrounding my bed, and I watched two arms reach up and pull the curtains back. The woman had a dark complexion, and she gaped at me sitting on the bed and lacing up my boot. Maybe eastern Mediterranean or Middle Eastern?

“Uh, doc? He’s not sleeping anymore,” she said.

“He isn’t?” The man replied, and footfalls preceded a middle-aged man arriving at the woman’s side. Wavy, snow white hair covered his head, and he wore the classic white lab coat. I watched his eyes take in the whole of me, moving from my head to my feet and back before he remarked, “No, it seems he isn’t. How do you feel, young man?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t help it. “Okay, I guess. I mean, I feel sore all over, but it’s no worse than after a long hike. Except it seems like everything aches, not just my muscles. My head swam a little when I first sat up, but that only happened the one time.”

The HVAC system kicked on and delivered faint food smells within seconds. I realized I was starving as my stomach rumbled so loud it sounded like a kitchen disposal. Both the woman—Gabrielle, apparently—and the doctor looked at my stomach. Gabrielle grinned.

“I believe it would be good to get our patient some food,” the doctor remarked.

Gabrielle turned to the doctor, lifting an eyebrow. “Our patient?”

The doctor looked at Gabrielle and smiled. “Excellent. I knew I could count on you." He turned back to me, saying, “If you develop any new symptoms, come back. Gabrielle can explain everything else.”

“Now, wait a minute, Doc!" Gabrielle protested. “Since when did I become the orientation staff?”

The doctor smiled again and add a shrug. “Eh… why not?”

Then he turned and ambled over to his desk.

Gabrielle glared at the man for a moment before turning back to her newest charge. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Gabrielle, though you probably caught that.”

I smiled and accepted her hand. Our handshake was firm. It wasn’t a crush contest, but it wasn’t a limp-wristed affair, either. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabrielle. I’m Wyatt Magnusson.”

Gabrielle nodded. We ended our handshake by unspoken mutual assent. She turned and started walking toward the door, asking, “You any relation to Connor Magnusson?”

“He’s my grandfather,” I said, adding a nod as I picked up my pack by its carry handle. “Have you met him?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “No. I only know of him, but ‘Magnusson’ isn’t such a common name.”

I grinned. “No, it isn’t.”

Gabrielle led me down a short hallway, around a corner, and through a door. We left the building, and I found myself on what looked like the main street of a small country town. Moving from inside to outdoors gave the sun a splendid opportunity to assault my eyes, and the food smells were stronger than ever. My stomach growled again. A general store stood straight across the street from us, and just to the left of it, I saw a diner.

“Welcome to Precious,” Gabrielle said as we crossed the street. Even at mid-morning—judging by the sun—the street wasn’t too busy.

I blinked. “I’ve heard of this town. We’re about an hour from where I live.”

Gabrielle nodded. “I led a hunting party tasked with locating and eliminating the rogue cougar, and when we found you, we brought you back here.”

That brought it all back to me in a rush. Sitting on the rock shelf. The attack. The desperate fight just to take the big cat with me into death.

“So, Gabrielle… how am I alive? That mountain lion shredded my chest and possibly broke my arm. I don’t understand how I’m up and walking around. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Gabrielle stepped onto the sidewalk and stopped. She turned to face me, and her expression informed me there was a serious and potentially unpleasant topic awaiting me.

“Look, Wyatt… there’s some stuff we need to discuss. It won’t be easy, and I don’t want to discuss it with you on an empty stomach. As long as your stomach growls like it has been, you won’t be able to focus on anything else. It’s not horrible or anything, really; it’s… it’s just a life-changing discussion that requires your focus. Okay?”

Well, damn. That wasn’t ominous or anything. But she was right; the main thing on my mind was food. I nodded. “Good call. Let’s eat, then talk.”

Gabrielle led me into the diner, and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. The dining area was immense. It was like someone took a military mess hall or large high school cafeteria and built a bar and kitchen onto one side of it. People occupied many tables, and as we stepped through the door, the buzz of conversation faded to silence as everyone stared at us. Or rather… me.

The silence extended, became awkward. A great hulking brute of a man stood from a table about halfway into the room and approached us. He had to be six and a half feet tall if he was an inch, and he was one of those guys whose muscles had muscles. The underlying arrogance of his expression and swagger reminded me of all those asshole jocks in school that loved to push around anyone weaker than they were.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?" He stopped about ten feet away. “You don’t belong here.”

It sounded like Gabrielle growled as she stepped forward. “Not now, Buddy. He needs food, and we don’t—”

“Stow it, Gabby,” the brute shot back, adding a growl of his own. He reached out, planted his right hand on Gabrielle’s right shoulder, and casually threw her aside.

I watched Gabrielle stagger a half-step and go down. She scattered a couple tables. Her head struck the edge of one before cracking off the floor. The scent of blood hit me.