NUMB, Judy Colella [i am malala young readers edition .TXT] 📗

or the Olympics. No time or interest, really.” His shrug was unapologetic. “So he was good at what he did? What was his sport? The news reports only called him an Olympic gold-medalist. I suppose they assumed everyone knows him.”

“Mostly track and field – he was a decathlete.”

“Really! His medals are for the decathlon?”

“Twice, yes.”

“Oh, damn. No wonder he was so strong! Hey, I’m really sorry. We’re doing all we can for him, and lately, he seems to have begun coming out of his self-imposed amnesia.”

“We’ve talked to him about the importance of the grieving process. It was obvious he didn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t go anywhere to avoid hearing it.” Rufino put out a hand and nodded at the paper Jax held.

“Oh. Here.” He passed it to him after another quick glance. “To be honest, I have no idea what to say to him. Any suggestions?”

“No. You know him, Mr. Kinsley. We don’t. I’m sure you’ll know exactly what he needs to hear, and you don’t strike me as the type who would be callous or idiotic about it.” Rufino raised an eyebrow.

“I hope I’ll know. I’m just terrified I’ll say something that will make it worse. Or that…aw, hell. You know what I’m really afraid of? That he won’t know me, or acknowledge that he does.”

Dr. Belmonde scratched his ear. “I doubt that’ll send you over the edge, though. If anything, you’ll probably get even more determined to get through to him.”

Jax gave him an odd look. “And what makes you say that?”

“I’m a psychiatrist.”

“So you’re good a reading people?”

“Something like that.” He smiled. “Gotta go. Miss Terry on Ward Eight had a near-fatal episode last night.” He addressed this last remark at Dr. Rufino.

“I heard. The ward nurses did a fantastic job – I’m giving them both an in-house commendation.”

“They’ll appreciate that. Well! I expect I’ll see you around, Mr., uh, Kinsey?”

“Kinsley.”

Grin. Wave. Gone.

“I believe your brother is going to need to rest for a while. Why don’t you go get something to eat. What’s your cell number? I’ll call you when he’s built up enough strength to have a visitor.” Rufino took out his own cell and pulled up the ap for his phone book.

Jax gave him the number. “Thanks. Uh, where can I get lunch around here?”

Dr. Rufino told him, then said he would have Reception make up a Visitor Pass for both him and his car, and walked him out of the building through the nearest side door. This led to an area of walkways with a fountain in the middle. “Go that way, turn left at that first building, and you’ll be back in the visitor parking area.”

“Okay. Thank you. And, uh, sorry for being a jerk before.”

“No worries, Mr. Kinsley. Drive safe – it’s a little icy out there.”

It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car waiting for the heat to kick in that the full impact of his brother’s condition hit him. He put his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and let himself cry.

 

*******

 

The hum of bees mingled with the gentle, rhythmic pulse of someone playing a single, primitive drum somewhere beyond the tree line, making a pleasant, relaxing ambient sound. Jett leaned back against the large rock and smiled. Its sun-soaked surface warmed and relaxed his shoulders, filling him with a sense of energy that wasn’t exactly physical, but made him feel better than he had for a long time.

Sitting beside him, Atarah stroked his hand with one finger. He turned his head, allowing the sight of her to become, at last, a part of the strange world in which he’d been living for…how long had it been? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. He also couldn’t have said when, exactly, he’d begun accepting her presence in his dreams as a positive inevitability rather than a gruesome and, frankly, terrifying one. So he kept his smile in place as he gazed into her eyes.

“There’s something I need to point out, Jett.”

He nodded.

“You aren’t alone in this. What you’ve done to yourself has to be fixed.”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Well.” She snuggled closer, resting her head against his chest. “Your family. Your brother. What makes you think he’ll be able to handle the way you’ve all but destroyed your body and abandoned your mind?”

“Is that what I’ve done?”

“Yes, Jett. You can’t even sit up on your own.”

“And what makes you think my brother or anyone else will see me like this? No one knows where I am.”

“Really? Let’s be logical here.” She reached out and grabbed a tiny white rabbit that had tried to skitter past, and held it up by the ears. It was wearing a vest, had human hands sheathed in white gloves, and if the way its eyes were bugging out was any indication, it was deeply afraid. “Silly wabbit,” Atarah whispered. “Tricks are for treats.” She dropped it and it zoomed off, presumably toward its hole. She turned her head so she could look directly at Jett. “How much like you is Jax?”

“Quite a lot, as you well know.”

“Hmm. Exactly. Which means he’s probably figured out where you would have gone. That means he’s come to visit you.”

“When?”

“You know when. Before you fell asleep, goofy boy. You saw him but wouldn’t admit it. I know you did.” Atarah was now sporting the robes of a judge and was holding a gavel. “My verdicts are never wrong.”

“Aw, crap. Really? But - ”

“And there’s more! What if I’m not really dead? What if I’m in danger somewhere and need you? Can you help me in the condition you’re in? Nope. You could have, the way you used to be. Not now. Don’t you think you should fix that?”

“But you are dead, ‘Tarah. If not, wouldn’t someone have told me?”

“Who? No one here is supposed to know who you are, remember? And even if your brother did show up here today, he might be afraid to tell you. You’re already so unbalanced.”

Before he could respond, he noticed the warmth at his back was gone. So was the ground. In fact, he was standing up, arms out, balancing on a thin wire that a quick, terrifying glance told him had to be at least five miles above the ground.

“Thirty thousand feet, Captain,” said Atarah. “You’d think the water wouldn’t be as hard as the earth, but when you hit it at the right speed, it certainly is! Aha! How’s your balance, Jett-Plane?”

For the first time since the dark dreams had started, he found he didn’t want to fall, to plunge to his death. “How could you still be alive?” He had to shout, because up there, the wind was fierce and loud.

“No idea, but without a body, it’s entirely possible. And like I said, wouldn’t your instincts have told you there was no hope? Or…did they?”

He thought about that one for a long while. Long enough for his location to change; he found himself sitting in the front pew at the church where he and Atarah had gotten married. “No. My instincts haven’t told me you’re dead. But I figured I was in denial.”

“O promise me that someday...” she sang, and then scooted over from the end of the pew where she’d been. She grabbed him by the arms and turned him to face her. “Promise me something, Jett.”

“What?”

“NO. Promise. PROMISE!” The shark teeth, which had always been there during these nightmares, and which he’d learned to ignore, shrank to nothing, replaced by her normal ones as she shouted her final demand.

“Okay! I promise.”

“Good. What I want you promise is to get well again. Strong. To get back to who you were. Look, there are two ways to see this.” She stood, paced to the altar, came back, and knelt in front of him, her eyes pleading. “If I died, where do you suppose I went?”

“Heaven. Absolutely.” He smiled.

“Right. So if I’m alive, I have to be somewhere, yes? And probably need your help. But if I am dead, that means I’m somewhere else watching you self-destruct. That isn’t heaven, Jett. It’s hell, pure and simple. Is that what you want for me?”

“No! Of course not, and you know it!”

“Do I? Your behavior says otherwise. The only way to be sure that I’m all right, then, is for you to get well.” She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. “STOP MAKING THIS ABOUT YOU!!!”

He woke up. And sitting next to his bed, his eyes red and puffy, was Jax.

Time to reboot.

 

*******

 

“I never thought of you a naughty person, Mrs. Johanan. I am standing corrected.”

“What do you want, Doctor?” Chara demanded, trying not to think about how far away that nasal, accented voice sounded. Or how much she hated it.

“I want you to suffer as I have suffered. You lied to me, dear lady, and for it, you will pay my original fee regardless of your attempt to renege. You will also never see her again, or your grandchild.”

“My what?” As soon as she asked, she was nearly knocked over by two hard facts – one, the girl was pregnant, and two, she had just admitted she’d been unaware of this. A third fact followed immediately and made Chara want to hit her head against the wall, which was that she never should have let the monster on the other end of the phone know of her ignorance. “What have you done with her, you pig?”

“Nothing. Yet. I shall wait until she gives birth to the spawn of that idiot athlete, and then will make her mine. In the meantime, I shall refrain from operating to alleviate the cause of her amnesia. And yes, Mrs. Johanan, I have given to her, the thorough neurological examination and several MRIs, and know exactly what is wrong. She suffered some kind of head trauma. You call me name, but what did you do to her to make this happen?”

“I did nothing! It was an accident – she wasn’t supposed to get hurt!”

After jumping from the plane with the pilot, Atarah should have landed safely near the boat waiting for them, but the aircraft spiraled closer to the two rather than farther away, and she was hit by debris in the resulting explosion. Originally, Chara had arranged to hide her daughter with a good friend, the woman who Atarah now thought was her mother. Jett would have been notified immediately, of course. Once International law enforcement and the FBI could get proof of the doctor’s plan, and he was arrested, the young couple would have been happily reunited and it would have been over. But when Atarah regained consciousness and didn’t even know who she was, the plan changed. They cut her hair, told her she had a brain disease that caused her to forget things, and arranged for her to be with Chara and Seth as a housekeeper and maid. A soon as Seth was healthy and no longer needed Dr. Kobienko, they would send Atarah to a neurologist in the United States to see about restoring her memory. She hadn’t been sure when or how to inform Jett, but then he had disappeared…Naturally, Chara said none of this to the doctor. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

“An accident? You are terrible mother, Mr. Johanan. Now I take care of this angel. She is mine as always she should have been. She is too good for some stupid…what is this word…jock! They are all of them morons, even Russian ones. I am sorry this magnificent girl was violated by him and am only glad child mostly has intelligence of mother.”

Guess you didn’t bother to learn more about who Jett is, you disgusting fiend! And now you’ve ruined his life, too! “Burn in hell, Dr. Kobienko.” She hung up. There was no way to find him at this point, no point in continuing the conversation. If she was reading him right, he’d be calling again – to gloat, to torture her, to pay her back for making him think her