"I'm sorry," the doctor said, shaking his head matter-of-factly, "there was nothing that we could do for him. He was dead long before he was brought in here."
"I figured as much," Josh answered, kicking at a piece of lint on the carpet. He looked up at the doctor and made eye contact. "I was just hoping, you know . . ."
"That we could revive him?" the doctor guessed. "No. Medical science has come a long way and some people have been resuscitated, but there was no chance in this case. I do appreciate you coming back to the hospital to check on his condition. Most people wouldn't care about a transient.
"Why don't you have a seat, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind. Want some coffee?"
"I don't mind at all," Josh answered, "and yes, thanks. Black."
He walked over to an adjacent waiting area, where no one was currently waiting. Though it was a small hospital in a small, backwater town, its facilities were better equipped and far more modern than Josh would have expected. While waiting for a doctor to return a page, one nurse informed him that the hospital handled trauma cases from the entire region. There were quite a few small towns scattered throughout the area, and as logging was the primary source of employment, industrial accidents kept the hospital afloat in tough economic times. She, quite obviously, liked the area, liked her job.
"Thanks." He took the small foam cup from the doctor, and noticed a slight tremble in his hand. He could really use a drink, even though it was still rather early on in the day. Long night.
"What happened in that alley yesterday?" the doctor asked quietly, almost conspiratorially, taking a long sip of coffee. "I mean, what really happened?"
"He was beat up," Josh answered, sipping his own. His stomach grumbled noisily. "Just like I said when we brought him in. I got there while it was happening and flagged down a passing motorist—my car was too far away. We brought him here immediately."
"Who? Who attacked him?"
The doctor looked and sounded very much like a young William Shatner, so much so that it was amusing, but a red flag went up in Josh's mind. He looked up sharply, hoping to glean something from the man’s expression. What he was looking for he did not know, but something he saw there told him to be very careful.
"Why do you ask that? What does it matter who it was?"
"Nature of the injuries," the doctor replied, still quite conspiratorially, as if he were afraid someone might be listening over his shoulder. He turned and looked back down the hallway, and that really made Joshua nervous about the whole thing. The doc fell silent, sipping his coffee expectantly. Josh drew a blank.
"And?" he prompted.
"He was beaten by professionals," the doctor revealed, clearing his throat nervously. "Looked like government handiwork to me."
"Government?" This was getting crazier by the minute. Josh, a mail carrier for five years, couldn't imagine any of his coworkers or superiors possessing that type of skill. "United States government?"
"I used to be military," the doctor confided, still looking around nervously. His coffee was gone, while Josh's was still full. "I can't be more specific than that, but I treated men with similar injuries overseas. They were usually spies or agents who had blown their cover. CIA men. DEA men. Men with dangerous jobs, dangerous affiliations.
"This was just a bum," the doctor continued, lifting the empty cup to his lips before realizing what he was doing. "Just a crazy old man in a crazy little town. Puzzles me how he could get into that type of trouble here."
"Probably coincidence," Josh muttered, emulating the conspiratorial tone of the doctor. He thought he saw something from the corner his eye and turned his head suddenly. Nothing there. He turned back to the doctor after a few exasperating moments. "He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Oh?" the doctor queried. "And what about the invisible people?"
"What invisible people?" Josh asked, his tone now more than a little hostile. He was not at all happy with the new direction the conversation had abruptly taken.
"I saw the police report on the incident," the doctor confided, his voice little more than a whisper. "You reported that the wino was beaten up by invisible people. Now, before you get defensive, I am curious for two reasons.
"One, your report of invisible people was taken off the record. I looked at the police report when the coroner stopped by. Later, after autopsy, I requested the report again. Nowhere on the report did it say anything about invisible people.
"Number two. A young lady was admitted late last night. She was involved in a single-car accident during a freak winter storm, and was transported here for treatment. She was quite delirious, but she also spoke of invisible people. Do you know this young lady?"
"Probably not," Joshua answered, now understanding why the doctor was trying to keep the volume down. Someone else saw evidence of invisible people? The ramifications were terrifying. Could it be? "I'm just passing through the area, you know that. I don't know anyone in this town.
"What . . . what's her name?"
"Marina," the doctor replied, after a moment of silence. He was obviously debating if he could trust Josh with that information. "Her name is Marina, and she's from Seattle. She was driving to Ocean Shores, judging by some of her personal effects."
Josh shook his head. He knew no one named Marina, even though he'd spent many years in the Seattle area. There were marinas all over the place there. Boat docks, not people.
"She went off the road, about six miles south of here. The county sheriff figures she fell asleep at the wheel. She hit an elk a few miles further back, then continued on, only to lose control on a corner and slide into a tree. She's a very lucky young lady to have survived with only a fractured fibula—and a very mild fracture, at that.
"I just can't figure this out," the doctor continued, lowering his head and shaking it slowly. "I am relatively new to this area, but I have never seen anything like it. The people here are strange. There is something different about this place. There are movements and compulsions, secret things. And now you come in with stories of invisible people. And a young lady is involved in an auto accident who also says that invisible people helped—"
"Now, hold on just a second," Josh cut in. "The people I saw would not be stopping to help an accident victim. You didn't see how that poor wino was beaten, I did. His attackers wouldn't give a stranded accident victim a second glance."
"I didn't see the incident," the doctor replied gravely, "but remember, I helped with the autopsy. I saw bruises and contusions in places I have never seen them before—at least, not in civilian life.
"By the way, my name is Don Hargrove. It's nice to meet someone from somewhere else, anywhere else, " the doctor said, chuckling a bit. He extended a hand, which Josh shook warmly. "I'll be right back. Gotta check on a patient and refill the coffee."
"If I am keeping you from something . . ."
"Not at all," Hargrove replied, standing, slipping a hand up to his stethoscope as if to confirm it was still there. "If anything, I may be keeping you from something. I would like to ask you a few more questions if you don't mind waiting. I'll only be gone a bit."
"No problem," Josh said, standing to stretch his legs. He had all day, quite honestly, and now that his curiosity had been piqued, he wasn’t about to walk away from this one. "I'll just get a coffee refill and find a magazine."
"I'll return as soon as I can." Hargrove turned and walked away, buttoning his white coat as he went.
Josh refilled the coffee and returned to his seat. The whole scene was a bit weird, a shift to the outer fringes of the ordinary. A young doctor, who once did some sort of top-secret government or military work, is now a resident in a small hospital in an out-of-the-way logging town halfway between Seattle and the Pacific Ocean. Coincidentally, this same town is where a wino meets his death at the hands of invisible people. A young woman from Seattle winds up in the same hospital in the same town, with similar stories of invisible people, except that her invisible people probably saved her life. On follow-up, an altered police report adds an intriguing new wrinkle, one with a conspiratorial feel.
Am I making something out of nothing? That thought nagged at Josh.
Someone sat down in a chair across the waiting room and he turned to look, but no one was there. Puzzled, he looked all around the room, but there was no one in the entire area. He was certain that he'd seen someone sit down out of the very corner of his eye. Nothing. It must have been a trick of light, he finally assumed.
. . . there's something different about this place . . .
"Mr. Lawrence?"
Joshua looked up quickly, surprised to hear his name. It was Dr. Hargrove, walking toward him from the nurse's station. He stood.
"Call me Josh."
"Okay, fine," Hargrove said, clapping him on the shoulder like they'd been friends for years, rather than minutes. "I want you to come see Marina, if you don't mind. She is alert and doing well, and I told her a little bit about your incident. Do you have a few minutes?"
"Sure," Josh answered, wondering how he had gotten himself into this. It had started innocently enough, that was a fact. He pulled over for a doughnut yesterday and went for a brisk walk about a picturesque block in a strange town. Now he was about to meet a young woman from Seattle and talk about invisible people. He didn't even believe in ghosts, for crying out loud!
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh, nothing," Josh answered, scratching the side of his head. "I was just thinking about how weird this situation is."
"No kidding," the doctor answered, looking at a chart he carried. "I thought you said something about ghosts. Here we are, 232. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
They entered the room, and Josh blinked at the brilliant sunlight pouring in though the eastern window. It spilled over the empty far bed and made everything in the room appear warm and alive in contrast with the monotonous hospital tones outside in the corridor. Nothing in the room, however, looked warmer or more alive than Marina. She was beautiful, even with her matted shoulder-length hair and hospital-issue gown. Time slowed for Josh Lawrence.
"Marina Waters," Hargrove introduced, stepping to the side. "Marina, this is Joshua Lawrence."
"I hear you had an exciting night," Josh started, not knowing what to say.
"That's one word for it," she replied softly, sweetly, holding out her hand.
He took it and they exchanged pleasantries. Joshua sincerely hoped that he didn't come across as an idiot; he and the opposite sex were usually of opposite polarity lately, for some reason. He was very uncomfortable and self-conscious in the presence of an attractive female, and he groped at his empty pockets self-consciously for a breath mint.
"The doctor tells me you saw invisible people, too?" Marina asked, settling back down on her giant pillow. Josh could see the hope radiating from her face. "I am not as crazy as I sound?"
"Not at all," he replied quietly, still self-consciously. He forced himself to smile, and speak up a bit. "I didn't see any invisible people, at least, I don't think I did, but I did see someone get beat up by a group of them. At least, I think it was a group.
"They were invisible, I couldn't see them," he added sheepishly, noticing the slight frown spreading over Marina's forehead. "If . . . if that makes any sense at all."
"Don't worry," she replied, reaching out to touch his arm. "I know exactly what you mean. I didn't see them either, but I saw them . . . felt them. Hard to explain."
"What happened?" Josh asked, a bit bolder now that the ice was broken. He moved closer, in the off chance she might be inclined to reach out and touch him again.
"I don't know," she confessed, looking at Hargrove. "I'm still a bit confused since the accident. Some things still aren’t clear. Dr. Hargrove says I banged my head pretty good and may have some . . ."
"Closed-head trauma," Hargrove interjected. "Nothing serious. Nothing you won't recover from, dear. Can you remember the elk? You told me all about that earlier."
"The elk stepped out in front of me," she said confidently, faltering only toward the end of the sentence. "I hit it, and killed it, I think. I don't really remember. I was in the front seat, then I was in the back of the car, and there were people in the car with me, but I couldn't see them. They were moving me, and they had their hands all over me. Not . . . not in a bad way. They were trying to help me, and I could hear them talking. I remember smelling them, I think. I don't know, it's all a jumble.
"I can’t remember if they were there when I hit the elk or before it or after it. I just remember the elk."
"That's okay," Hargrove spoke, moving in to pat her reassuringly on the arm. "It'll all come back."
"I'm not sure I want it to," she said soberly, looking up at him.
I don't think you do, Josh thought, realizing once again how bizarre his own story sounded.
"I'm sorry," Hargrove said quickly, shutting the chart he carried. "I've just been paged. I'll have to go."
"I didn't hear anything," Josh said, tilting his head a bit. Voices poured out of the overhead speaker, but at a very low volume.
"Trained ear," Hargrove grinned. "Can we all get together and talk again at a later time? How long are you going to be in town, Josh?"
"I can stay another day or so, I guess," he answered, glancing down at Marina. It was obvious that she wasn't going anywhere. What the heck. "I'll be at the Cloud Nine Motel, room seven."
"Very well," Hargrove replied, jotting down the number. He looked down at Marina. "You, stay put and get well. I'm counting on it. See ya."
And he was gone, leaving Marina and Joshua together in the little hospital room. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet. Josh had no idea what he could possibly find to do for a day or two in the little town, aside from sitting with Marina, and she probably wasn't in the mood for too much company.
"I don't want to sound rude," Marina said quietly, interrupting his thoughts.
"Oh, not at all," Josh replied, snapping back to the present. "I'm sorry, I know you are probably exhausted, and all."
"I will be a lot more personable after a few hours of sleep," she agreed. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and blue. "Come back and visit me later? I don't know anyone else in this little town."
"You can count on it," Josh replied, a bit too hurriedly. He blushed. "Get some sleep, and I'll duck back in here later."
"Okay," she smiled, her eyes half-closed already.
He winked, turned, and left her alone in the room before he could make a fool of himself. He could always come back later and make a fool of himself then.
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