Shaking Off the Dust

By Rhianna Samuels

Excerpt - PG-13



I didn't recognize the voice. I jerked when a hand touched my shoulder.

“My name is Mike Freeman. I'm with Channel 62 news. Could you answer some questions about what happened to you this afternoon?”

“No, go away,” I said softly. I didn't want to scream. In fact I doubted I could get my voice that loud without my head falling off.

“Just one quote, Miss Campbell. Tell me how you feel about surviving that lightning strike? People say you are permanently marked on your hand. How does that make you feel?”

“No comment. Get out of my room. Please, get out of my room,” I called out as loud as I could. I pulled the compress off my face.

I stared as if watching a movie in slow motion as the beautiful Asian doctor appeared and in one graceful movement lifted the reporter off his feet and set him back down outside my door. My jaw was hanging open when he came to my bedside.

“Are you all right? Security is busy arguing with the media about patient privacy.”

I needed to get away from this weird circus I'd been thrown into. I started to rise and he was there, blocking my way.

“Where are you going, Miss Campbell?” He lifted my legs back into the bed.

“I don't want to be here in the middle of all this.” I tried to get up, falling forward against his torso. He caught me around the waist.

“You really must stay. Lie down and close your eyes.” He spoke softly.

I burst into tears. Weird thoughts blazed around in my head. The need to leave all this confusion behind and get to my familiar bed took hold of me. Some detached portion of my brain registered all my surroundings, especially the beautiful man who was offering me comfort. “No. I need to go home.”

I expected him to have that look men get when women cry. That confused and frustrated face. But he didn't. He touched my cheek where the tears were hot against my skin, then picked me up in his arms and sat down on the bed holding me.

I lay my head on his chest and sighed heavily. He felt warm and I was so tired. “Will you take me home?”

“I don't think Dr. Perez will like that. Go to sleep, you'll be fine.” His chest rumbled as he spoke.

He was rhythmically tapping on my right wrist. I could hear his heartbeat through the scrubs he wore, it was slow and steady like a metronome. The thought flashed through my mind that he must have changed his wet clothes. While I remained in a hideous patient gown, my hair still wet and streaked with ash.

I must have fallen asleep. Someone held my injured hand as the dressing on the burn was removed. I was still pressed against the body of an angel in scrubs. However, his thumbs were positioned firmly into each side of my left wrist. “I'm having the strangest dreams.”

“I'd be having nice dreams, too, if I were that close to Dr. Shimodo.” Martha worked quickly to change the dressing and apply medication to my hand.

“It's not hurting. How did you do that?” I asked, waking up more.

“Dr. Shimodo is applying pressure over the nerves that send those pain signals. It's like a Chinese nerve block. Unfortunately, as soon as he lets go, it will start to throb again.” Martha was my favorite nurse at the moment.

“Thank you.” I stared at the angles and planes of his face. He looked like a fashion model, one of those androgynous, beautiful males who sell cologne in Cosmo ads. “You smell good. Almost as tasty as you look. Is it hard to be that attractive?”

“Go back to sleep,” Shimodo insisted in a deep amused voice.

He was tapping on my wrist again. My eyes started to droop shut.

“What the hell happened?” Tom demanded. “When did Takeshi get in bed with you and why is he caressing your face like that?”

“Hush, Tom, he's being nice. I need to sleep now. You can too, if you want.” I never opened my eyes. My shoulder grew cold and I shivered until Shimodo pulled the cover over us both. His fingers brushed my face again. It felt wonderful. Too bad it was all a dream.

The night passed in a haze. They moved me to a private room and Tom Mecurio was there every time I opened my eyes. My angel-in-scrubs was gone.

Every few hours someone checked on me and found some little task they needed to do. I was exhausted by daylight. The cardiologist arrived the next morning and I begged him to let me go home. He reviewed my labs results and agreed I could come back for more tests in a few days. He put me off work until then.

“I'm going to follow him out and see if I can get a glimpse of your lab results.” Tom glided right through the door.

“Hey, haven't you heard of HIPPA, the federal privacy act,” I called to the door.

I'd have taken that opportunity to dress, but I didn't have a change of clothes. I leaned against my pillows, wondering if I was truly schizophrenic or whether it was a side effect of the electrocution process. I considered all the electrocuted patients I'd treated in the last ten years and couldn't recall any of them confessing to auditory or visual hallucinations. Of course, I hadn't mentioned it to anyone either, so that didn't mean they were not common.

Tom came striding through the door, not the doorway. That takes some getting used to. I shook my head trying to clear it. Something was different about him today and it took me a moment to figure it out. “When did you change into scrubs?”

“I always wear them when I'm in the hospital. Apparently whatever I think I should wear, I wear. It was disconcerting the first few times I changed clothes.” He sat on the end of the bed to stare at me like I was quite fascinating. “You have no idea how unexpected it is that you of all people are able to see and hear me. I'd given up hope of ever communicating with anyone.”

“So, why do you suppose I'm hallucinating you? I realize your name has been in the paper a lot and everyone acts like they were your great buddies. But I never aspired to be your friend. Why would you be in my psyche?”

He gave me an appraising look. “I am dead, so I guess I'm technically a ghost or spirit. I believe that you and I formed a bond when you inhaled my ashes and were struck by lightning.”

“I wasn't struck by lightning. I was an innocent bystander. I'd be very dead if it had actually hit me. Besides, I know it's odd to say, but I can't see you as a ghost?” Okay, so that was a stupid comment.

He glanced at me with that raised eyebrow, as if he agreed. “Well, surprise.”

“I mean you are one of those people who I thought left nothing to chance. Shouldn't you have moved on to the next world? Based on every book and movie I've seen or read, you must have unfinished business here. I can't see you leaving anything to chance. Very anal retentive.” I crossed my arms. Having given my unbiased and unsolicited opinion, I awaited rebuttal.

A smile almost crossed his face. “Yes, we all know it is such a well-researched area. Despite your Netflix account, I'm not inclined to concede your expertise on the matter. Let's pretend you are right and there is unfinished business. Only one major event would fall under that category. The plane crash was a terrorist act. What if I know something that could help find the people who got that explosive on board?”

“What do you know?” Okay, I was having an excellent hallucination.