“That’s just it, Father. I don’t think this is any Wrath of God situation. David – that’s the angel – made it sound like God’s trying to help, to save us. As if what’s going to happen isn’t some typical natural disaster, but something so massive He’s warning us ahead of time.”
The last thing he wanted was to make her think she was frightening her pastor. It all sounded ludicrous on the surface. But hearing this from a woman Nick had long admired as a strong, rational person, he felt his pulse quicken. He was frightened. Fear of something unknown. Maybe seeing someone he had considered very rational begin acting irrational, yes. Or maybe there was something. No, he was letting her fear take over his judgment. Yet another lesson from his schooling. Be neutral. Be a sounding board. Don't judge.
“Father?”
Too late. He'd been staring at her with an expression he could only guess at.
“Ah, yes. Okay. Sorry, Margaret. Perhaps....” Think. Be rational. For her sake. “Perhaps you heard a reading during mass that put the thought in your head. I believe that particular passage from Exodus is coming up soon in the Lectionary cycle...?”
She looked away, considering.
He found himself saying, “Of course, though…” before catching himself and falling silent. Margaret looked up.
“What?”
Nick shrugged. “You mentioned there were many others who seem to have had the same dream? That must account for something.”
What was he doing? Feeding the woman’s delusions. Still, as off-the-wall as the story was, something about it, something subtle, had a ring of truth to it he couldn’t explain. He long thought these intuitions were, in fact, the whisperings of God, leading him along his path every day. That idea now sent gooseflesh along his arms.
They were both silent for a time. Margaret stared at Nick without really seeing him, lost in her own considerations. Her tears had stopped.
Nick was the one to speak first. “Margaret, if it’ll help, I’ll make some calls, see if I can get to the bottom of things a little - “
He was interrupted by tiny electronic piano music from inside Margaret’s purse. As she fumbled to retrieve her phone, she said, “Sorry. It’s a Veggie Tales tune. Robin picked it out. Hello? Yes, this is Margaret Carboneau.” She listened for a moment, then, “Oh, no.”
* * *
“Sir? Can you hear me?”
Light, blinding. God's light shining upon him. Jack smiled. The light moved, turned away. In its place a dark-skinned woman in a white lab coat giving him a somber look. She was young, pretty. Was this a new angel?
No. Something was wrong. This place did not look like Heaven. Jack turned his head, saw a curtain drawn beside his bed.
His bed . He was in bed. This wasn't right.
“Sir,” the woman repeated. Through half-closed eyes, Jack watched her click off the pen light she'd been holding and pocket it. Jack understood. He was in a hospital. Something dark and broiling tried to find its way free of some lost, forgotten closet in his brain. He held it, held it... until at last it went away.
The woman straightened and scribbled something on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. When she looked up, gone was any trace of concern in her eyes. She almost looked bored. “Do you have a name, sir?” Something in her voice, an accent.
“Jack.” His voice sounded funny, thick. His head hurt. His side hurt. His arm was heavy.
“That’s correct. Mister Lowry, I'm Doctor Ramprakash, the attending physician. Do you know where you are?” Her accent was thick and she spoke too fast for him to easily follow.
And she knew his last name. He didn’t even... no, think of other things. Jack raised his right arm. A white cast stretched from elbow to wrist, shiny, like plastic. He looked back to the doctor, wanted to ask her name again, tried to remember the question. He said, tentatively, “The hospital?” His tongue explored the inside of his mouth, sending throbbing pain through his gums whenever he poked too hard. It was like that every day but, still, something was missing....
Doctor Ramprakash nodded absently. “Yes, that's right. You are at Forest Grove Hospital. You had quite a spill. Do you remember what happened?”
Jack realized what was missing. “My teeth. I lost a couple of teeth.”
“Most likely that happened during the accident.”
Jack stared at his arm, tried to remember where he'd been. He’d gotten some money. He was hungry... his heart beat frantically. How did I get here? When Jack tried to sit up, a man and a heavyset woman moved into the curtained area. The man whispered, “Need help, Nee?”
“I don’t think so,” the doctor said, never taking her eyes from Jack. The other two slowly retreated, leaving them alone again. “Try not to panic, sir. Being in the street one moment and the hospital the next can be a bit disconcerting.”
Jack followed most of her words. He nodded and said, “What happened to me?”
“I'd rather you tell me. Can you remember?”
“I fell, I think. On the road....” His voice trailed off.
The doctor nodded. “Good. Where were you when you fell?”
Jack knew this, and even as he spoke he was remembering more. Much more. How could he have forgotten? “I was going somewhere. I was hungry - what time is it? “
He tried to sit up, but Ramprakash touched his chest gently and said, “Shhh, hold on. I'll help you up.” But she didn’t. Instead, she pushed a button under the bed and Jack felt his head rise and the bed fold upward. It made him dizzy for a moment.
“Do you remember being struck while you were in the street?”
“Struck?” The policeman. “My money. I lost my money. I almost had it when something hit me. Someone hit me and stole my money. Officer Leary gave that to me - “
Scribble, scribble on the clipboard. “You were struck by a cab as you ran out into the road, Mister Lowry.”
“Jack,” he said defensively. This woman using his last name stirred up the dark thing inside him, but it needed to sleep. His right arm continued to throb. He fingered the bumpy plastic coating. “My arm broke.”
“I'm afraid so. But it's a miracle you weren't hurt more than that. Your face has suffered some lacerations.” She paused at his worried look. “That means you have some scratches and scrapes, but aside from a clean break in your arm, you're doing okay.”
“Then I can go?” Jack shifted in his bed, but felt no burning desire to get up. Every time he moved, he became dizzy.
“I'd rather keep you for an overnight. A concussion is very probable. I don’t suppose you have any insurance?”
Jack laughed and shook his head. “God is my insurance.” He suddenly realized he was naked, save for a single sheet covering him up to his belly. “Where are my clothes? What happened to my clothes?”
The doctor’s expression tightened. “Jack, your clothes were torn by the accident, not to mention being a health hazard. We had to dispose of them.”
This time Jack did stand. Oblivious to his nudity, his entire world had just been tossed into the trash. The woman doctor didn't seem to notice or care. “All my stuff was in them! All of it! You had no right!”
She raised a hand, whispered, “We saved all your stuff, I promise, and someone from the Salvation Army will be coming along to give you a whole new set of clothes. New shoes, too. Now, unless you want everyone in the emergency room to see you naked, I suggest you get back into bed.” She guided Jack under the sheet, tucking him in like a stern but loving mother.