Todd Revisited: Awake (Chapter 11)

Without warning, he found himself staring at the end of a golf club that was suspended from above him.  Somehow, he felt fortunate because he was losing his ability to stay afloat and had gone under a few times, tired.  Of course, with his hands tied, it would be difficult to grab the golf club's shining end.


"Hey!  Hey you!"  A voice called from above.  He searched up with his eyes, and then, realizing his legs were giving way from bicycling under him, he put his head back and descended again.  His Dark Mass was creeping across his vision.  He fought it, almost commanding it to leave him, and he found himself almost unable to return to the surface this time.  The water, cool and dim, surrounded him, almost a relief from the dank, hot weather of Pennsylvania summer.  


No.  He must not get too comfortable in this comforting cool.  He knew, from experience, that would be his final mistake.  Looking up, he saw the edge of the water, hitting the dock.  He had drifted inward, and a strong, black hand was reaching toward him.  Once more, he lifted his tied hands, and the man, literally lying across the dock to have leverage, called to him.  "Hey!  You!  Come on, grab hold."


He was certain that the last two pumps of his legs that he struggled to complete were the last two.  Hoisting his hands, the man took both of his large paws and put them under the ropes tying his wrists together, and hoisted him part way out of the water.  Then, with an audible grunt, he lifted him onto the pier, where he lay, face down, before unconsciousness took him.


When he woke, the man was nearby.  He stirred and heard, "Don't even THINK of moving."  He coughed and spit, and water came from places he did not know could hold it.  Soaked through, he found a way to look up at the figure over him.  He was burly, black, and carrying that golf club he had spotted earlier.


The conversation took an interesting path right away.  Louie, as he was named, was John McBain's "eyes and ears" on the docks.  And when all was said and done with their first and possibly only talk, he found himself believing in this man who was currently the only person believing in him.  So, he decided, however hesitantly, to do what Louie had instructed.  After all, the guy saved his life and believed him.  Believed him.  He knew, in no uncertain terms, that even his family, who he still loved, would never believe him.  They would call him an impostor, and fawn over The Impostor like they always did.  How could they?


Before departing, Louie taught him about the payphone on the dock, and handed him a quarter and went on his way.  Somehow, he knew he would see Louie again, and eventually, if things worked out, he would make it worth his while.


So he made the call.


John McBain answered.  "Hey, Louie."  


"No.  Guess again."


"Is Louie ok?"


"Yeah, he's fine.  He said I should call you."


"And you are?"


"I think we should talk, alone.  I'll know if you bring backup."


"Ok.  What's this about?"


"Todd Manning," and he hung up the phone without waiting for McBain's response.  So unlike him to trust a policeman.  In fact, so unlike him to trust anybody.  In his life, he'd rarely trusted anyone, and those he did, he trusted sparingly.  Look where that got you?


He made his way around a stack of cartons, and sat to wait.  His clothes were still wet, mostly because of the humidity in the air, for it was hot enough this day to dry them.  As soon as he sat down, he realized just how tired he was, and how close he was to the end, once again.  Wondering momentarily if it was a mistake to call a cop, he rested his head back against the cartons and closed his eyes.  His mind took him to a far away place, again, and he faded into a memory.


Lilly rushed to his side, and Aman stood by her.  Both of their faces, when he opened his eyes,  looked like a combination of pity, joy and horror.  "It's all right now, lad.  It's all right.  You're safe." 

His head crashed back to the bed.  He was still gasping and covered in sweat.


Aman, taken aback by the emotion of the scene, crossed to the kitchen to get water for the visitor.  He knew the guest was in good hands with Lilly.


"Son."  She said quietly, then even softer.  "It's over now.  You're all right,"  and she found herself drying a solitary tear from his cheek with her apron.


He looked up to her.  "Thank you."  Something had grabbed hold of his guts and twisted them, or at least that was how it felt.  Aman arrived at the bedside and gave him the water.  He drank it in almost one swallow.


Aman found words.  "Do you want to tell us what spooked ya, lad?"


He didn't know how to answer.  Did he want to?  Maybe.  Did he KNOW?  Not sure.  He did remember parts of it; the glen, the fog, the man, the lighter.  The lighter.


He finally spoke, "how long . . .?"


Lilly smiled softly.  "You've been here for two months already.  This is the first time we saw your eyes since you got the fever and went into the deep sleep.  You were in another place, lad, for two months and 6 days."


He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes again.  "Two months, in a coma?"


"Yes lad.  And by the way, do you know your name, now?  We've been calling you Son."


Lilly put a wet cloth on his forehead.  "There there now, doesn't that feel better?"


He closed his eyes and admitted to himself that it did.  It felt better than anything he could remember feeling for a long time.  He didn't dare move, because he was certain that would bring immense torture.


"I'm crippled?"  he asked


"No, lad, just can't move for a bit.  Sure as the night is long you'll be walkin' soon."  Aman chimed in, then got up and went back to his nightly reading.


"You had a bad fall." Lilly simply stated.  And for him, right then, it was enough.  "Do you want to talk about it, Son?"


"What the dream?"  He asked.


"Yes, do you want to tell me about it?  You've had it often, sometimes you would sweat, other times you didn't; sometimes you would twitch, or your eyes would move under your lids.  Once your fists clenched.  This was the first time you opened your eyes . . . and screamed."


Embarrassed by his weakness, he simply looked away.  "I can't remember much, I'm sorry.  I'm still tired, and I think I need to sleep."


"All right," she said, pulling a blanket up over his chest gently.  When her hands brushed against his chest, the pain was almost unbearable.  He didn't cry out or let her know.  He was not sure he had legs anymore.  


Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly mistook a candle for the lighter's flame, and his heart skipped a beat.  "Thank you.  I really want to be alone."


"All right.  We're here if you need something."  She paused.  "Goodnight, Son.  And I'm Lilly, if you want to know."


"Goodnight, Lilly," he said, and turned his head slightly away.  He kept his eyes open, however, as not to see that man's face again.


A few minutes later, he found himself back at the dock, and opened his eyes, knowing now very well who the man was.  There was not time for this now, he had to maintain his focus if he were to get his life back.  He waited, until he heard the familiar voice from the phone.  "Come out, come out wherever you are."


Without a sound, he moved slowly from behind the cartons and stood face to face with John McBain.