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Chapter Seven

"Reff. Reff. REFF!"

Mesonii's sense returned.

The rattling of the truck. The backboard under her. The burn in her nostrils. Ambulance. But for what?

"...the hell...?"

She couldn't move from her lain position, but she didn't really want to. Even the trivial act of thinking of how she ended up like this, how she somehow landed in this ambulance, hurt her brain.

To only worsen this, the ambulance screeched to a halt on the side of... something. As her eyes suddenly darted, she saw another inkling around her age, and an older mantis shrimp, both clad in hospital attire, both marked with insignia of a smiling noodle. The inkling was pointing at something, and only the mantis shrimp's words were comprehensive.

"It means we should not drop the stretcher, obviously. She'll know. Now, help me lift this," the one named Reff said. Mesonii groaned.

In retrospective, though, was this the least of her worries? Two dudes who obviously didn't have a clue as to what they were doing? There wasn't anything she could do about it.

It hurt to think.

---

Afternoon.

The sun shone over Inkopolis- or was it?- over the hospital that held the most recent casualty from a Turf War. Had she been well, her day would have been the same as it had always been- wake up, brush teeth, throw clothes on, put on glasses, grab the gun, head to turf, take a right, two lefts, and a u-turn, and wait for Aunty to come home.

It's been that way for three years, ever since she got into the war scene. But with the snow came change of a new kind.

Advised to stay in the fifteenth room on level seven of the main building, Mesonii had remained there for at least a day. The tenure was supposed to end soon, they said. Just need to do some checkups, they said. There's something weird we've got to clarify.

She's heard stories from others, how they were forced to stay in these chambers for four days at a time, four weeks, sometimes four months. All she did, as stated on a doctoral report, was come close to drowning. How could that merit a stay that was already this long?

A sense of questioning filled her. All she wanted to know was how everything came down to this.

Figuring that she was going to stay in the room for a while, she reached for the remote next to her and turned on the TV. It was some sort of reality show, something about jellyfish living in highrises and making fun of each other as they did stupid stunts. Turf War, she thought, without the turf and just the players. Dammit, why am I being figurative again?

The door opened and a nurse ambled into the room, wearing the same smiling noodle insignia on her coat as the two in the ambulance. She pulled up a rolling stool nearby and sat down next to Mesonii.

"How are you feeling, Miss... Mesonii? Do you feel like you can get up yet?"

Mesonii, somewhat startled, clicked off the television as fast as she could. Could she get up?

"I haven't tried to... yet."

"Would you like to try and go for a walk? They're serving lunch in the cafeteria."

Lunch? That was surely one reason to get out. The meals she had been served through the door were putrid. Mesonii swung out of bed, almost entirely ready to go.

"Now, don't wear yourself out. It's quite a long walk."

Mesonii didn't take the nurse's words too seriously, until a rush of blood fled upwards to her head, flooding her vision with lights and causing her to stumble. Realizing the error of her ways, she waited for the feeling to go away and took it slow.

The two started their walk, the nurse keeping a close eye on her patient. The burning in Mesonii's throat was still there. Her brain felt funny. The doctors were probably right-- she had come close to drowning.

Almost one mile walked, two elevators and three rushing doctors later, signs for the cafeteria were in sight. It only took some more strides before the doors were in sight.

The line, surprisingly, was not long. The real problem they found was with the tables available.

While Mesonii reached for a cup of yogurt and a small, wrapped catfish burger, she took another good look around. No seats, except for a table in the corner, holding a girl near her own age. In the other seat, a slightly obese sand crab tried to comfort her.

Sankra looked up. Mesonii stood there, stiff as the sorest muscle in her body. They didn't even realized that they asked each other if they were alright at the same time.