I awoke in a bed inside of some kind of doctor's office. Looking around, the individual rooms were divided only by curtains, indicating that this facility was rushed together. I'd read about this in one of the manuals. Looking in further detail, I was able to see that people were rushing around outside my room. Not so rushed as to indicate a sudden influx of patients, I hoped.
That's when I saw it. Looking down from the area past my feet, my eyes met my arm. There lied the horror. There was a needle stuck straight into my arm. Why did it have to be a needle?
I screamed, and a nurse came quickly. She was very young for a nurse. Presumably the same age as me. She was wearing a blue junior volunteer uniform with a hat bearing a red cross, and looked to be about my height and typical weight.
She saw me clutching my arm and trying to keep from crying, and started checking that nothing was wrong. After a moment, her panic started faded to confusion. My panic, on the other hand, remained panic. She told me to wait a minute, and left to get the doctor.
It felt like an eternity waiting for his arrival, but I knew it was only a minute, as the little nurse had said. When he arrived, I was taken aback. It was my family physician, Dr Vasquez. He had escaped the bombings after all. He saw me, and his expression changed immediately. He turned to the nurse, and spoke.
"Get that IV out of his arm. I know him. He's an extreme trypanophobe." The young nurse's confusion left her, and she got to work getting that thing away from me. Meanwhile, my old doctor greeted me.
"Hello Fla-"
"Don't say it!" I suddenly cut him off. He was taken aback, but obliged my request nonetheless. After a short pause, I continued.
"I was kidnapped by the army and held in a cell. Some people have powers that attack people by knowing their name. I'm Soap Boy now, and you should get a new name too." I explained. He still seemed confused, but I liked him and wanted to protect him from people like whoever it was that Aspis met.
He seemed to ponder my words for a moment before he latched onto the least important among them.
"Soap boy?" He asked. In response, I just silently motioned for his hand and placed a bit of soap in his palm.
"I make soap from my body." I explained briefly. I had actually gotten quite used to explaining my freak biology to people by that point.
His eyes widened upon seeing genuine magic. Like me, he looked at it, smelled it, and even tasted the soap before he would believe it. He turned to wash his hands in the basin next to my bed. As he did so, he pointed to the other side of me.
"The needle's gone, you know."
I turned my head, and saw the girl holding up the IV next to her face and smiling.
"Oh" I responded. Somehow, Dr Vasquez was always able to take my mind off of the pain. It was half of the reason I liked him so much.
"See. I keep telling you that needles aren't so bad." He said, in the same way he did every time. I shook my head, also like always, and replied.
"Nope. Needles suck, and will always suck." It was nice. Having a normal conversation with someone I knew. Too nice. I felt tears starting to well up, and had to stop myself. Of course, the good doctor noticed.
"You've been through a lot, Haven't you F- Soap?" He had to stop himself from saying my name, which cut into his nurturing tone a little, but he continued.
"I don't know everything that happened, but it must have been terrible. Don't worry. It's all over now. You're safe." He said. Realizing where the conversation was going, he waved off the girl, and the little nurse rushed out of the room. Leaving the two of us alone. It was getting harder to keep myself from crying. He pushed on.
"It's okay to feel bad. It's okay to be hurt. I know it's taken a lot of strength to get this far, so you should be proud." As he spoke, it got a little easier to keep my emotions in check, so I kept listening.
"How about this? You just stick around here, and I'll try and find your parents for you."
Oh no.
He didn't know. I was going to have to break the news. If my emotions had jumped to a six before, they were now at a nine. I tried to regain my composure, but to do that, I first had to stop him from talking. I started shaking my head, not trusting myself to speak. But that only caused him to become confused.
"Do you not want that?" He asked, not realizing that he was making everything worse. I had to say something to stop him, or the flood gates would open, and I'd be unable to close them back. I had to trust myself to say something.
"The bombs." I said, my voice cracking and wavering in the process.
It was only then that I realized. That was the first time I'd acknowledged their death out loud. I'd thought about it. I'd accepted it as reality, but something felt different when saying it, and that was bad. That nine had just become a ten. It was taking all of my willpower to hold back what felt like an immense pressure building inside my mind. The balloon was already full. Any more, and it would pop for sure. I didn't dare look at the doctor's face, lest it be what pushed me over the edge. I knew that he was a friend of my parents. He'd come over for dinner sometimes, so they must have been close. A brief moment of silence passed between us. During that time, I tried to reign in my feelings, but made no progress. He then broke the silence.
"I'm so sorry."
There it was. He'd said the worst thing he possibly could have. I wanted to hate him. To make him an enemy so I could win this battle and keep my promise. But he wasn't an enemy. On the contrary. He was the only friend I had left in the world. This also wasn't a battle against him. I was fighting myself. He spoke again.
"You know... There's no shame in crying."
As he said those words, I heard his voice waver. I dared to open my eyes, and through the blur of my welling tears, I saw his expression. He was starting to cry too.
I broke.
Contrary to what he'd said, I felt nothing but shame.
"But I promised them!" I cried out between sobs. He leaned over and hugged me. As he did he spoke again.
"It's okay. They would understand." He consoled.
I knew that, but it didn't help. I had broken the very last promise I ever made to my parents. Breaking that promise felt like betraying them. Like I was letting go of the last piece of them. Letting them die.
"I'm sorry!" I wailed out, at the top of my lungs. They were the only words that would come out. Dr Vasquez hugged me tighter as I repeated my apology over and over again.
It took a long time, but I managed to calm down a little. Dr Vasquez released me, and he left the bed to return to his chair. I could tell that he was hit just as hard by the news as I was. After about ten minutes of silence broken only by the sounds of sniffling and tissue paper, he finally broke the silence.
"You know..." He started, as he pulled up his sleeve revealing a massive burn scar on his forearm. "I got this scar because of Pedro. It was back when we were a few years older than you are."
That got my attention. I knew dad had a scar like that, but never thought Dr Vasques would have one to match.
"Yeah. There was this time when we were young that a terrible house fire started a little ways away from where we lived. We were on our way home from a movie when we saw it. The firemen hadn't arrived yet, and there were people stuck on the second floor."
"Without giving it a second thought, Pedro ran over and started climbing up the house's balcony. I followed shortly after. At the top, we found a family of three that needed saving. Without even thinking about it, he picked up the two women joking that he'd take the lovely ladies. Leaving me with the father of the family, who had hurt his leg. He climbed down right away, but I got stuck inside behind a wall of flame. A minute later, he came back up and saved me too. He joked all the while that I was a scaredy cat for not just pushing through." As he told the story, both of our moods started to lift. I was also wondering where he was going with this.
"Well, after saving everybody, the news people showed up, and Pedro told them that I had done everything. I later asked him why he gave me all the credit, and do you know what he said? He said 'I already got all the reward I could ever need! Me and Rosa are going to the movies next week!' The lovely lady was your mother!" As he finished his story, he wiped a tear from his eye and burst into laughter. I knew my parents met at the same time grandpa got his limp, but I never knew Dr Vasquez was there.
For the next while, we reminisced about my parents. He told me all kinds of stories about how they were before they had me, and I offered some much more recent tales. We joked, We laughed, and I felt like I had healed just a little bit. Once I was feeling a little better, I told him about everything that had happened since they left. How I survived in the house. How I helped the community. My kidnapping and attempted escape, and even my trek through the wilderness.
He then told me his story. His clinic was dangerously close to the bombs, so he left. A few months passed, and he found himself helping all the locals avoid injury and infection. Just after the cataclysm, his job suddenly got a lot easier. The people had much better hygiene, and were speaking of a miracle child. After a couple months, though, the kid vanished, and people got spooked. It was the push a lot of them had needed to evacuate the area. Less than a week later, he heard news of Caracas' capture. The community, now war refugees, came to this camp. Where they stayed.
With both of our stories finished, we decided to wrap things up. I was clear to leave, and had to get some food sooner rather than later. He needed to go explain to the rest of the staff why his break had been five times longer than it was supposed to be.
On the way to the front desk, I encountered the little nurse again. She guided me to the front desk, then offered to bring me to the food wagon. I told her that I could make it by myself.
After collecting my things and receiving a doctor's note, I left. I had to find some food before I collapsed again. Once outside, I could see just how crowded this place really was. Luckily for me, it was almost perfectly between lunch and dinner time, so there was nobody at the food wagon. I walked over, and the woman inside greeted me.
"Hey kid. I'm sorry, but we're only serving two meals per day. No snacking in between." I was a bit offended that she thought I was just some kid seeking snacks, but I needed food, so I didn't show it. I reached into my pocket, and grabbed the slip I was given when I left the hospital.
"Medical emergency," I said, as I placed the note on the counter. "And if it helps, this is my first meal since arriving." After reading the note, she passed it back and began cooking.
"So, you're the rumored kid who passed out in the street, I presume?" She asked, clearly trying to start a conversation. I obliged.
"Yeah. I just finished a nearly three week trek through the forest to the west." I boasted. She looked genuinely impressed by that. I'd expected doubt. Then again, I'd also expected her to doubt the doctor's note. Maybe she was just a very trusting individual.
"That's impressive. How old are you, kid? Eleven?" She inquired.
"Oh! I am!" I responded, only just realizing. "My birthday passed while I was in the woods!" She looked up at me from what she was preparing, and stepped up to the counter.
"Ok. Two questions. Only one of em's important. First, When was the last time you ate, exactly?" She paused, giving me some time to answer. I thought for a moment, and replied.
"Assuming I was unconscious for less than a day, it was the day before yesterday. But that was only a couple of berries. Before that was another two days, and a small amount of beans."
I tried to be as accurate as possible in my answer because I had read about that in the survival manual. It could really hurt somebody if you suddenly gave them food after they had starved for a while. Exactly how long ago they ate, and what it was, would determine what you could actually feed them. She looked like she was very interested in my answer.
"You know your stuff." She said, before continuing. "That should be fine. Now I won't feel bad asking the second question. Chocolate or vanilla?" I was caught off guard for a moment, but answered anyway.
"Vanilla, usually. But I don't like Vanilla candy." That time, I didn't know why I was so accurate in my answer.
Upon hearing my answers, she turned around and made her way into the back room. I could hear the sound of a refrigerator opening and shutting, and she made her way back. She now had a small container in her hands, and was already swinging her arm as she reentered the room.
"Catch!" She shouted, giving me barely enough time to react to the unidentified flying object.
I caught it, but I had to put it down quickly. I was still pretty weak from the lack of food. I looked down at the container, and read the label. It was vanilla ice cream. In one of those single serving cups that were often sold in stores. She smacked a spoon down on the counter, breaking my concentration as she spoke.
"Happy birthday kid! It's not quite cake, but it's close enough, right?" I smiled, and started opening the container. As I opened my mouth to thank her, she spoke over me.
"No need to thank me. Just be sure to leave some room for the actual food. Also, don't eat too fast." The sudden seriousness in her voice caught me off guard, so I just nodded as a reply.
She turned and got back to cooking as I ate my ice cream. I took her words deadly seriously, and ended up taking so long to eat the ice cream that it was fully melted by the time I was halfway done. I sipped away the rest, and waited for her to finish what looked to be a soup. She served it, and once again advised me to pace myself. I noticed that there weren't any solid ingredients. It tasted pretty bland, as well. Overall, not very satisfying for a first meal.
"Listen kid. This is important." she started, grabbing my attention. "You cannot eat anything without my okay for a few days, and after that, you'll still want to avoid eating fast or taking in anything heavy. I'm going to give you some packets. You need to mix one into a cup of water each day and drink it slowly. Besides those, don't eat anything if I'm not present. If you absolutely can't resist the temptation, milk is okay so long as you consume it as slowly as you just did a moment ago. Did you get all that?"
I just nodded my head, and took the packets she was holding out for me. She got back to work putting away my special soup and cleaning up the dishes she had just used. I stepped out of the food wagon, and was hit with a sudden dizziness, so I had to sit down.
An hour passed after I left the food wagon, and I could finally feel my strength starting to come back. I used that time mostly to read, since moving around too much would slow the recovery process.
Over the last three weeks, I'd gotten into a mindset of always doing something. If I wasn't walking, I was gathering supplies. If I wasn't gathering supplies, I was setting up camp. If I wasn't setting up camp, I was reading. And if I wasn't reading, I was sleeping. With that session, I had just finished my second read through of all the manuals I had borrowed. I was getting to a point where I could recite entire chapters from memory to a fair degree of accuracy.
Having recovered my strength a little, I made my way back into the improvised hospital. While I had been officially discharged, that was just so that they could free up the room for a shooting victim. They still wanted me to sleep under the watch of the medical volunteers until I fully recovered. To that end, they set me up with a cot in the back and kept a volunteer on standby to help me in case of emergency. It looked like the person who was assigned the task was the girl from earlier.
She greeted me as I entered the room, but I was exhausted. So I just ignored her and went to sleep. I knew it was rude, but I would just make it up to her in the morning.