Remember Death

            The soft beeping of the heart monitor lulled him into a sense of comfort. The nurses had been nice so far, though when he asked what he was doing in the hospital, they only answered with shrugs and a quick change of subject. His arms and legs were covered with bandages. A few large bandages had been wrapped around his torso, fresh from when he bled through them only moments before. He remembered an alley, bricks, and... nothing else. No matter how hard he tried to remember what happened, he could not recall any of it.

            He looked up when the nurse came in again. The nurse was a young man with soft features who had suddenly taken over before the last nurse had finished their shift. He smiled and checked the IV.

            "Do you need anything, James?"

            "No, thank you," James looked at his name tag, "Maxwell."

            "Just Max."

            "Max."

            Max turned around and looked at his chart. James looked at the door when an elderly woman came into view. He straightened his back, wincing at the effort, and glanced at Max. She wasn't dressed like the staff. In fact, she looked more like she was off to an opera but had somehow lost her way. She gazed around the room, the effort seeming to bore her.

            "Maxwell," came her shrill voice, "Maxwell, this room absolutely will not do!"

            James saw Max tense and set down the chart. He whipped around, his eyes boring into the woman.

            "Ma'am, I insist you wait until he is ready to receive visitors!"

            "He looks fine and awake to me," said the woman, turning her dull pale eyes onto James. "Aren't you, boy? I must speak with you at once. You are an absolute miracle."

            "I, uh, right," James stammered. "Do you-"

            "Maxwell, find me something to drink. Dry as possible."

            "This is a hospital!"

            "Then rubbing alcohol if you must! It makes no difference to me!" she shrieked.

            She was instantly calm when she sat in a chair on the other side of the room. Her thin legs were tucked under the chair, barely hidden by the plum satin dress hanging from her skinny frame. She leaned forward and squinted at him.

            "Skinny little thing, aren't you?" she crowed.

            "Excuse me?" James looked down at himself. "I'm a perfectly healthy weight, thank you very much!"

            "Perhaps for a fashion magazine," she scoffed. "No, we must get some fat on those bones. Have you been feeding him, Maxwell?"

            Max let out an exasperated sigh and left the room, closing the door tightly behind him. The woman chuckled and leaned back in her chair, seeming perfectly pleased with herself.

            "My nephew is a good boy," she said, turning to James. "He hates it when I interfere with his work."

            James stared at her, unsure what to say. There was nothing he could manage to say, even if he knew what he wanted to say. His voice was just gone. In his confusion, he appeared to forget how to make his vocal cords make noise or shape his lips into the words and letters he needed to demand just who this woman thought she was. This was not an opera or some show, as she appeared to believe it to be. She was coiled into her seat, a gleam in her eyes that was not there a moment ago.

            "Who are you?" James finally forced out.

            "Now, now," she cooed. "Everything will be made clear in time. First, I have my own questions."

            "I will not answer anything until you tell me who you are!"

            "Then you will be in the dark for the rest of your life! Although, without my help, you won't be around for very long."

            "What do you-"

            "Do you remember anything?"

            James closed his mouth. No, he didn't. He wasn't sure there was anything to remember. He was alone, he was sure of it. Although, bricks don't typically come flying at a person from thin air.

            "Bricks. I remember bricks and an alley. Nothing else."

            The woman shook her head and scooted her chair closer to him. James leaned away from her on instinct.

            "Not that." She lowered her voice. "I meant... do you remember what it's like? What is it like to die?"

            "Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

            "Don't you remember?"

            James smashed his thumb on the call nurse button. He kept pressing it until Max raced into the room, barely catching the door in time to stop it from hitting the wall. The woman leaned away from James, a look of disgust on her face.

            "Petunia, I must ask you to leave!" Max commanded, stomping over to the woman and grabbing her arm. He winced and released her. "You are upsetting my patient."

            "It was just a question."

            "Perhaps you should have started with something else," Max growled at her.

            Petunia stood gracefully. She looked down at James and handed him a small piece of paper. It had her name and a number written on it.

            "If you remember anything, please call me. I have a lot to tell you, James."

            With that, she turned and strode out of the room, brushing Max aside. James looked down at the paper and noticed his own bloody fingerprints on it. He had bled through his bandages and hadn't even noticed. He was too absorbed in her mystery that he didn't notice the stinging of the opening wounds.

            "Who was she?" James asked when Max began replacing his bandages.

            "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

            "She just asked me if I remembered what it was like to die."

            Max stopped and looked into James's eyes. He put hand on James's cheek and pat it lightly.

            "You must remember."

            Max removed his hand and finished his chore. James leaned back in the hospital bed and stared at the note. He closed his eyes and tried to recall anything. He didn't even know he had died. There was just darkness and the sudden light of the hospital room. Yet, something was tugging on him. No one just asks what it's like to die without a reason.