Lifeguard Jeon

° T W E N T Y - N I N E °

The rubber wheel beneath e continue to move quickly and silently down the hallway, bumping up and down as if we're going over thresholds on our way into rooms then out of them, going faster and faster, as if there's a definite destination where I'll end up.

Who's pushing me?

It's still pitch black out. As I pass doorways, silvers of moonlight shine through the windows. Is everyone sleeping? Am I the only patient aware of what's going on? In the distance I hear scurrying of feet. Someone call out something about a generator, the control room, but it's like background sound and I can't make it out. If my head didn't hurt so much I would turn back and look behind me, but I'm burning up and ready to pass out.

My leg is throbbing, only I don't think of that now. I'm out of here, away from the bright light, the blue tray with the steel instruments. the sharp knives, the hardware meant to slice people open and take out their insides and cut off their legs. Knives that can cut into your soul. And ruin your life.

Forever.

Something has changed, but what? Am I sleeping? Dreaming? Or dead? It feels like the atmospheric pressure is different and we're flying over the clouds. I'm a balloon being lifted with helium so I can rise and float over the universe. It's not as scary now. Nothing bad can happen to me. Has someone given me anesthesia? Am I going to sleep? What is it? What has changed?

Yoongi? The figs?

Immediately I reach inside my hospital gown and buried inside it, around my neck, is the chain. I follow it until I reach the charm. Still there. They haven't taken it from me. They probably missed it.

I close my hand around it, and then I realize that my arms are free. When did that happen?

It feels like Yoongi's near me. I knew he would keep me safe. It was him, or at least his power. He gave it to me, he helped me. Somehow he knew. Nothing bad can happen to me when I'm wearing it, when Yoongi's watching out.

Do you hear my thoughts? Do you know what's happening? A silent voice inside my head asks him.

I feel myself smiling just before I slip back into unconsciousness.

° ° ° ° °

I stare out a window.

Night.

The moon. The hospital room, I'm back there again. My heart starts to quicken. Did I have the surgery? Machines are attached to me again and I jerk my head up. Omo, please, please, please, I don't want to spend my life in a wheelchair. I don't want to have one leg and have people pity me. I feel beneath the sheet and then I stare down and see my toes. All of them. I lie back again and exhale. Was it all a nightmare?

The soft beeps of the machines are everywhere. Does that mean there's power again? Then I remember the blackout. People yelling out orders.

"Why didn't the generator kick in?" I heard someone say. "What if we were in the middle of the operation?"

I would have been dead.

I would have been bled to death.

I rest my head back on the pillow. From behind me in the darkness something moves.

"Who's there?"

Nothing.

Seconds go by and no one answers. I think of Irene's house, the ghosts. It couldn't be, please.

"Who's there?" I say louder. "Please." My voice cracks. Not the ghosts. I can't stand the idea of their moans, the damp fingers that reach out to touch me. I startle when a figure steps from the dark. A hand touches my shoulder.