Chapter 13 ~ Calling

Sometime later, however long it was since he had passed out, Andrew stirs in his prone form before his ‘view’ of a pale ceiling with rectangular LED lights blurs into focus. As soon as this realization sets in, the rest of his ‘body’ snaps awake as he sits up and swivels to find himself back in another hospital room.

Déjà vu…

On his left, there is a window to the outside night overlaid by the indoor reflection… a reflection that shows his dad sitting next to his still-lying form on the bed, his face masked in shadow, his stress lines nonetheless evident.

To his right, a closer, clearer view shows the man flaring his eyes at something, his brows pushing up against the wrinkles on his forehead. Andrew twists around to the direction of his glare to see what has him so stupefied…

… and there he is, his real self, resting beneath his phantom form on the pillow, the scar on his forehead glowing just like it did the first time. Only this time, his dad is here to witness it too. The boy’s got a few scratches on his face, but he otherwise seems fine due to the lack of machines and IVs wired into his body.

There is a significant lack of embers floating outside of their building too, as far as this young man can tell, as he spares another glance through the window.

Can this day get any stranger…?

When a nurse enters the room, her head down in her clipboard, his dad swiftly brushes his son’s bangs over his scar to hide it, or at the very least make it less noticeable. Hopefully, it works… for however long.

Thankfully, this nurse doesn’t seem too bothered, which in itself should be another positive sign for Andrew’s wellbeing… right?

As she begins her weirdly muffled exchange with his dad, their invisible patient makes a far-out decision to exit his bed, which takes minimal effort without his weighty, human constraints… something else bizarre to think about, despite this being his second out-of-body experience.

This, however, feels more in tune than the last… more refined and familiar, even with the oceanic ambience—he is more in control now. With this acquired confidence, Andrew exits into the bustling hallway, ready to capitalize on this elusive opportunity.

As expected, the traffic of white coats and scrubs doesn’t affect him in the slightest as he wanders forth like a ghostly drone, everything in existence passing right through him.

Just like before, it feels almost… liberating… in a sense…

… like there’s absolutely nothing holding him back anymore, except his own imagination.

He almost wishes it could stay this way forever… almost.

Therein lies the double-edged sword: to be this boundless would come at the cost of being seen and heard from ever again… a case of power vs. isolation?

One room draws his attention from these thoughts. There, through the wide glass panel, he can clearly see a blonde woman, who is confined to a bed of her own, her face marred with scrapes and stitches, her left leg in an elevated cast… but very much alive.

There’s also a man standing at her bedside, another sheriff from the look of his uniform and holster. With his back to Andrew, all he can see is his highlighted bald spot. From his hunched posture, paired with the woman’s visible scowl, these two appear to be having an argument over something that he’ll likely never know about, since the boy is no good at reading lips either.

When the man turns around to huff in frustration, the name on his badge glints at Andrew, confirming what this young man already suspected and dreaded: Sheriff Dylan, of all people, just had to be in the same building as him.

Then again, this could just be a coincidence, but given their recent situation, it’s almost too good to be true.

Come to think of it, this is his first time actually seeing the officer, albeit indirectly. If this is in fact the same Dylan who tried to bait him on their porch the other day… then could that woman he is with be Carol? They do seem well-acquainted after all, judging by their soundless interaction.

Moving on, Andrew begins to recollect the rest of what had transpired on the highway when his next fixation shifts to his friend who was with him…

… Alice! Where is she??

His casual demeanour veers into urgency now.

Did she make it out okay too??

He darts from one new room to another, each second dilating his fear as he fails each time to find her. With all his might, he tries to keep his mind from assuming the worst—the last thing he needs is one more missing friend.

‘Alice!’ he cries out inaudibly—of course, no physical voice. He continues anyway. ‘Alice! Come on, give me a sign! Where are—?’

There she is, sitting isolated in the waiting area. Relief rinses Andrew like a warm shower. As he carefully approaches this girl, he discovers how terribly dishevelled she looks, and it’s no guess as to why; she must have been sitting here for… hours now?

What strikes him particularly is how her eyes, bloodshot, sunken, and glazed over, resemble that of a person who hasn’t slept—let alone blinked —in years. Her face itself gives the impression of a ragged rubber mask. The trauma is evident. He only now notices the blanket draped around her shoulders, one that was clearly given to her by the emergency officials.

There is certainly no doubt that her mind must be spiralling into overdrive from what she had witnessed, especially what she saw him do when he was in the car with her. Andrew shrugs off this worry, deciding to bench it for later; right now, he just wants to comfort his friend… however he can.

Ever so delicately, he extends one of his translucent hands. Despite what little this will do, he floats it onto her shoulder. Of course, his palm and fingers make zero contact with the leather of her jacket, yet his steadiness and phantom memory is what makes this ‘touch’ somewhat manageable, at least for him.

Unexpectedly… Alice flinches, causing Andrew to recoil and stagger backwards in slow motion. She rubs her shoulder, the one he had his hand on, while batting her eyes frantically for the supposed suspect.

Hold up…

A creeping suspicion compels this young man to wave his other hand in front of her… but her eyes, wide and searching, never befall upon him.

Did she…?

No… it must’ve been a coincidence.

Just as he relents, Alice does too as she slumps in her chair with a fleeting shake, followed by an exhausted sigh. They both had a long day… the kind that can’t be fixed with a good night’s sleep.

Afterwards, Andrew rests his gaze on the floor where he is reminded of his absent shadow—some could describe this as… chimerical. He allows himself a serene moment to evaluate. That obelisk did more than just blind him. It gave him something else, and whatever it is… he can feel it brewing inside him.

Right then and there, he reaps an epiphany… it’s so clear to him now.

“I think I know how to beat it.”

“You what?”

James Coffey gapes at his son with crinkling confusion as he stirs awake with an outstretched yawn before sitting up to first rub his eyes, then massage his own flesh… acting as if he’s wearing it again after a vast period. “I’m… b-back,” stammers the young patient as he can once again feel the muscles, joints, and bones beneath.

And of course, his blindness had also returned.

“Welcome back,” his dad finally says before shuffling to assist him. “How are you feeling?” he questions next, a slight edge in his otherwise mellow tone.

“Surprisingly well,” answers the boy, showing no signs of fatigue, his demeanour unusually calm. “How about everyone else?”

“Alice is fine…” his dad nods reluctantly, “… she’s—”

“Sitting in the waiting area,” Andrew completes without thinking, then realizes what he did. “I, uh…” he pauses, turning away nervously now. “Have you talked to her?”

“I tried to, but…” the man inhales through his nose.

“But what?”

“She’s shellshocked… by whatever happened on that road tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s… pretty obvious.”

James shoots Andrew another scowl, his eyes alarmingly wider as he hunches forward with studious intent. “What do you mean by that?”

This time, Andrew sips through his teeth before pursing his lips; he’s pretty confident that his dad isn’t going to like what he’ll hear.

“It’s okay, son.” The man softens his approach. “You can tell me anything.”

Andrew hums understandingly, but even as he tries moving his own mouth, no words want to come out, which irks him.

His dad, however, deduces the situation anyway. “It happened again, didn’t it?” He gestures then to his son’s forehead. “I saw your scar glowing… pulsing, even.”

“Yeah… and Dylan’s here too, I see?”

“Yeah,” he confirms formally.

Andrew clicks his tongue. “And… I suppose it’d be a bit of a stretch to assume that the blonde lady with the broken leg in a cast is Officer Carol?”

“Actually, son… you’re spot on.” The man is left shaking in further disbelief.

The blind seer smirks, pleased by his own intuition, before it wanes into pensiveness. He allows the inviting silence to halt their conversation as he hearkens back to their two connecting incidents. “That obelisk in the forest…” he begins while stroking his chin carefully, “… I think it did more than just blind me, dad. I think it’s the reason I can do these… other things.” He gestures loosely to his third eye.

James bows his head with another sigh. “I told you not—”

“I know…” Andrew cuts him off with haste, “… but I really couldn’t help it, nor could I the last time.” Pausing again, he rubs the scar with his finger; at least it isn’t burning. “And I don’t think it’ll stop. I think… I think it’s a calling.”

“A calling?”

“Yeah… and I think…” Andrew trails off, thinking really deeply about what he’s about to say, “… I think, instead of avoiding it, I can use it.”

“For what, exactly?” challenges the father.

Before Andrew can answer, he bites his tongue, sensing another man entering the room as he whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”

“At ease,” speaks the gruff voice.

With a brisk shoulder check, Andrew’s dad glowers at the sight of Officer Dylan, who is peering through the doorway with a flat phone in his hand. “What the hell do you want?” His chair makes a piercing squeak as he stands up firmly to their uninvited guest.

“I don’t answer questions!” gabs the patient behind him before adding, “Does your partner know you’re here?”

“Of course, she does,” answers the sheriff directly. “I had just spoken to her, but look…” slowing his pace towards them, he raises his hands defensively, “… I’m not here for any drama this time, I swear it.”

James remains doubtful. “That’ll depend…”

Dylan nods while staying composed. “I’m well aware that we started off on the wrong foot, but you can’t exactly fault me for trying to do my job, but I digress…” he juggles the phone, “… I’m here because I got something to show you.”

Andrew’s father keeps his guard up as this other man approaches them while thumbing through his screen; it’s not as easy on his partner’s phone. But surely enough, he finds the video in Carol’s album and proceeds to play it for them. Even with the muddled audio from its tiny speakers, the young man deduces right away what is happening and bends forward to hear it better.

“This was taken by my partner on that very same road,” Dylan affirms before glancing off, his mouth sealed in a thin line. “Just wait, and you’ll see it…”

James squints as hard as he can; as sharp as the video quality is, there’s only so much that can be seen in the rainy darkness, especially with those wet particles getting in the way of the woman’s wavering flashlight.

“Any second now…”

A white flash illuminates the video, followed by that resulting thunderclap… and he sees it, a towering, writhing mass lurking just behind the toppled tree, its backlit scales outlining its silhouette for a mere fraction of a second. The framing, however, cuts off this entity’s head, leaving its true height and appearance ambiguous.

“What’s happening?” demands Andrew…

… but no one answers him.

Dylan ends the video after the tree gets knocked towards the camera, causing it to fly out of Carol’s grip, landing lens-first on the road for the remainder of its timespan. “The phone kept recording for several more minutes until the girl… uh, Alice… picked it up when she eventually got out to help Carol.”

“Was there…?” Andrew, still confused as ever, clamps his mouth shut.

But Dylan, while pocketing the phone, catches this between his fingers. “Go on,” he prompts. “Was there what?”

Shit…

“Was there, uh…” the boy pretends to clear his throat, “… anything else that she saw?”

The man sighs. “Unfortunately, no… she was knocked unconscious. She’s lucky to be alive.” Pausing thoughtfully now, the officer shifts his attention back to the young man in the bed. “While this footage still isn’t enough to serve as concrete proof, it does give your account more credence, at least between us.”

Andrew gives him an eyeroll. “And even if it was, it wouldn’t be allowed to go public anyway… would it?” He already knows the answer.

“Look…” Dylan steps back to give the two their space once more, “… this is all to ensure that we’re on the same page now. I’m really just here on my partner’s behalf, and lucky for you, she’s a lot more understanding than I am.” He turns towards the exit. “We’re all exhausted, so I’ll let you off this once…” he raises his finger, “… just this once.” And with that final statement, he disappears from the room.

With her car totalled in the incident, there was no other option for Alice than to ride home with Andrew and his father. The trip back home is uncomfortably silent, more so than it was right after they left Cherrycradle. She can only stare ahead from the middle of their backseat, either at the now-rainless highway through the windscreen, or at her own disturbed reflection in the rearview mirror—there’s nowhere else that she’d rather look, not through her side windows, and especially not at Andrew, who still hasn’t said a word to her either, let alone dared to face her from his passenger seat.

What would they even say to each other?

Some more dragging hours later, Alice dives out onto the sidewalk with her things as soon as the entrance to the campus rolls into view. All she wants is to get into the safety of her dorm, no questions asked. But as soon as she attempts to cross through, the timid young woman freezes on the spot, right under a lamppost. Out here, in the vast darkness separating her from that haven, she feels naked, despite there being other cones of light further off.

“You alright?” James questions her through his opening.

Alice darts her worried glance between him and the vast darkness, clearly distressed. “Y-Yeah, I just…” The more she tries to hide it, the more obvious it becomes. The way she just stands there, it’s like she’s trapped in a psychological barrier.

“You need a hand with anything?”

Andrew, after much careful consideration, decides to exit the car himself, his cane in hand. “I got this,” he states to his dad before nearing the girl with exercised caution, stopping only a fair few metres from her. “You okay?” he asks her kindly, imagining what kind of face she’s likely making towards him right now.

Alice stares at this blind man… really stares at him—she just doesn’t know anymore what to think or feel about him. Her mind, much like her body, is locked in a paralysing analysis. There are too many questions and not enough answers.

“I’m just…” she struggles with her response, “… it’s dark out here.”

Her blind friend smirks while fixing his shades. “Isn’t it always?”

Alice, despite everything, manages a grin as she finds herself relaxing in his presence once more. “Quite the ice breaker, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “When it counts, I suppose…” As he trails off, an offer comes to mind. “Do you…” he points into the entrance, “… want some company or…?”

“Actually… I would, if you don’t mind.”

Her answer surprises him. “Alright…” he simply utters.

And so, Andrew and Alice begin their stride as she leads him through the quads of grass, but this time without holding his arm, which is no problem for him. She makes sure to stay on the best lit paths as well.

Strangely, however, there is a wide berth between them as they walk side by side, as if someone had put a divider there, suggesting that the ice isn’t completely broken. The same also seems to apply verbally; maybe it’s just from exhaustion.

The young woman takes this moment to examine this sightless individual while the latter keeps his focus ahead, hopefully oblivious. The cogs inside her head, while more at ease now, won’t stop turning until they have their answers. But would it be appropriate to interrogate him here… after what they’ve been through?

She knows better, but her inner nagging voice says otherwise—it’s a good thing she doesn’t always listen to it, which is putting it mildly.

This person whom she met only recently isn’t just a friend nor an acquaintance anymore—can she still even call him that? He did save their lives after all… so why does she feel strange about him now? It can’t be repulsion, no. There’s a barrier for sure, but there’s also a magnetic pull; just what kind, she isn’t yet sure of.

Out here, in this cold bristling night, there’s a foreign sense of security that she feels around this now-enigmatic figure… this Andrew who should be an ‘alien’ to her.

Lowering her gaze, Alice fixes it on his dangling hand, the one swaying at his side next to her, then her own as they match almost in sync…

No.

Clenching her hand, she recoils.

There’s nothing here…

… nothing at all.

Andrew, in the meantime, feigns his ignorance until they arrive at the girls’ dormitory at last. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs to the front entrance, Andrew wishes her, “Good night,” before veering his head abruptly.

Alice returns his kind gesture with an acute nod. “Yeah… good night.”

Without pause, Andrew begins his leave, his profile fading back into the nightshade while his echoing cane taps along the pavement continually.

Alice, without blinking, watches him go until he shrinks from view well enough.

Somewhere far off, deep beneath the roots of the Black Forest, myriad voices cry out in shared agony, disrupting the peace of its wildlife. They cry out not just in torment…

… but with inflamed malice.