Subcutaneous Magazine Fall 2016 - Page 38

Remember what I have offered. You have refused me, but when you return here, you will return begging. I may not make the same offer twice.” Harry awoke in the hospital bed in the middle of the night. Doctors and nurses were standing around him, a cardiac machine beeping to the tempo of his heart beat. A doctor backed off, placing a pair of defibrillators onto their base. “We almost lost you,” he said. Harry dozed, his mind losing the memories of the fiery cave and the man who called himself Lucifer. There were shouts from the hall. A doctor was shouting at a nurse. “The patient is supposed to be an induced coma!” he exclaimed. “Why haven’t I been told that he’s woken up at least twice?! His burns and injuries are too extensive for us to wake him, yet I feel as though you aren’t concerned in the slightest about any of it!” “I’m doing my best, doctor,” the nurse said. Harry couldn’t see, but he knew the voice belonged to the ball-grabber. “Get up,” the voice said in his ear. He thought he knew the speaker, but the thought disappeared. All he remembered was the voice, whoever it belonged to, had tried to warn him. “You have your strength,” the voice said. “Your pain has lessened, and your body is less broken. Get up and go to the window.” Harry did as the voice instructed, and was pleased to find that his body was back under his control. He still felt pain as he moved about the room, but it was better than before. He walked to the window and opened it. A cool breeze blew in, kissing the parts of his flesh that could still feel pleasure. He stepped onto the ledge and closed the window behind him. Harry climbed down the fire escape, and moved as fast as he could away from the hospital. He didn’t know why, but he wanted as much space between himself and it as possible. He went down an alley as a car came down the road. He snuck around, popping in and out of the allies between the two-story, brick buildings to avoid detection by any people who were out this late at night. He did this for a few blocks until his body was exhausted. He stumbled and sat between two garbage bins, his chest heaving. There was garbage strewn about, but he had no choice. He had no idea how long he was in the hospital, nor how long his muscles went unused. He needed rest if he wanted to keep moving. There was a filthy, hole-ridden sheet near him in a pile on the ground. He peeled it off the ground with two fingers and pulled it onto his body. Dozing off, he dreamed of being behind the controls of his plane, flying just under the white, fluffy clouds just outside New York state. He lost control as he had before, plummeting to ݅ɐѡɽչ)ЁɔɅ͡ݽ5ɹ($)!ѽյɥٕȁ͕)́ݕхє!݅́ѥ!ѽ݅ɐ)ѡɽЁѡ݅́ͥɕͽչɉ丁ȁ齽ЁѡɅѼѡ)丁!䁕ᡅ́ѡͽչѡͥɕ݅($)!݅ѕѡ䁅䰁Ёݥݡ)ѼȁݡɔѼ!́ѕȁՑЁѽѼ)ѼѡхЁЁ͡ѡ͔ѡ՝)݅丁!ɥѕЁͱ()ѡ݅́ɥѡи!ɕ)ٕ́ݥѠɔхɔ)͍ձȰ՝MٕɅՑݽ)ɅݱЁ́аѡ͕Յ䁅)ɕѡȁͱȰѕɵ́а)($)Q٥ͥ́е݅ɑյɽչ́)́ݕɔͥQٽɽ͕͔)Ը!ɕɕѡé+qeԁ͡Ѽ̳t1Սȁͅ͵($)!䁉ѕݽɔɕ)ݕи9Ё݅ѥѼѼͱٔ)ѡȁ٥ͥɽ͕͕Ѽхͥѥ9Ёմɹɔ)Ʌ͠ɉ䰁ٕ́́ɥٕȁѡх)履ȁȁ݅ɵѠQմɕЁѼ)͕ٔ!䁥́ͅхє̸%)eЁ䁅䁵($)!éѽɽݱ!݅́х٥!)յѽ݅ɐѡմɥɝɽ)ɥЁѡѡЁѥ̸́Qմ)ɹЁ٥ͥЁɵͥѼѡɔ!䁝ɥ)չ́ɴєѡQɽѕ)ݥѠѡͥѡշéи)]!䁍Ʌݱٕȁ́䰁ͱ)ѡɽѼ́($)!ɕٕѡշéѡ́)͕ݥѠݽɸхЁ́ѽ)́ɕхݸ丁Q)ѡɕɉ̰Ё!ɥѼ)ɔи!ɥѡɽ՝ѡշéЁ)չMՑ䁽ٕɍݥѠɽ)ͥɔȁ͕ѡѽѼɥѡ͠ɽ)ѡշé丁́́́ՑٕȁݥѠ)͍Ё!ɽѕѡѽ՝Ёٕ)ѡɔݥѼѡ́͠Ʌݸ)́ͽ̸́($)!́ѽձ!䁉݅䰁)Ёѡ݅ЁЁɽѡ䁵́ѡ)͕Ѽѡմ!ɕѡѡȁ)Ё݅́ɥ͕Ѽ͵́Ʌ)ͥ!ɕ䁅ᡅ՝)ݥѠՉɅ!ЁɝЁ܁ЁЁѼ)ձՉх̸($)Qɔݕɔɕ̰٥ͥ́ȁٽ́ѡ)и($)Qɽ՝ЁѡЁ䰁!х啐ѡ)丁!٥ѡշéչȁ́)а!͹Ս́ɽѡٕȁݡٕȁɕ܁չ丁=Ёɕɹ)ݕ՝Ѽٔ!͕́)ձ݅ѡͥєɕѥѡ)хͥ́ɽєЁɅ($)=ɽѼѡȰ݅́ͽ݅ՉɉɡMѡɽٔ)ЁeЁ܁ݡи!Ё́ѡɔ݅)ѥѥЁݡɔ)ݡЁѼи!ѽ)ɽչ!́ɡ݅́ձ͕́ѡ)ݕɔՍȁȁɔͥٔЁѡ́݅)եЁѼɅ͔丁!Ёɕɕѕ)ٕȁɅͥ́ݸ((0