Blue Alert - 12

"James"

-x-

COLD. It was cold. A shiver raced through my body and didn’t seem to want to stop. Opening my eyes, I squinted at the horribly bright light that shown in my face. I recognized that I was outside, but beyond that my brain didn’t want to function. I was too cold and in pain to think properly.

What the hell happened? Where was I? Why was I cold and... wet? I was wet? Squinting at myself, I plucked at my clothing and noticed it was damp. A careful sniff made me grimace; not only was I wet and cold, I stank. Again, what the hell happened? Was I sleep walking again?

Groaning, I tried to push up onto my feet. I winced when I put pressure on one of my legs. Glancing down, I saw a tear in my pants leg. I didn’t have the courage to look underneath, and frankly I had greater priorities like figuring out where I was and how to get back home.

Looking around, I saw I actually was home, just on the other side of the fence by the dumpster. I don’t even want to know why I chose here of all places to hunker down. Wincing, I dragged myself towards the apartment. I felt terrible, absolutely terrible. My body ached, my leg hurt like a bitch, and I had no clue what I was doing before I got to the dumpster.

This was nuts.

I limped my way to the elevator and thanked whatever god or goddess existed in this world that no one was around to see me. Pressing the button, I leaned heavily against the wall and waited for the elevator to come down. What I wouldn’t give to just collapse right now. Bed sounded like the best thing in the world.

When the elevator chimed, signalling its arrival, I pushed away from the wall. I was happy to be that much closer to returning home and be off my feet. I had only just woken up, but I was in no mood to stay up. When the doors opened, I made my way onto the elevator.

I had no sooner gotten my foot in the door than stopped when I saw who was already occupying it. Standing just inside was Allen, staring at me like I was some alien creature from Saturn. Was there something significant about elevators because I seemed to always meet him on one.

“James? What...?”

Allen didn’t even finish his question, merely staring at me with alarm. I shook my head at him and leaned against the side of the elevator. The doors closed behind me but we didn’t move. “I don’t know, don’t ask...”

He gave me a look. He probably didn’t agree with me. “Are you alright at least?”

I glanced down at myself. “I... guess so. I’m not really sure.” I hesitated before adding, “My leg hurts.”

Allen looked down at my legs. I lifted my toes to indicate which one was bothering me, shifting my weight so that I didn’t lean too much on it. “What’s wrong with it?” When he looked at me, I just shook my head. He didn’t like that and frowned at me. “Come up to my apartment and let me take a look a you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m okay. I can just look at it myself.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“N-No...”

“Then we can use mine.” He reached over and pressed the button to his floor. He looked at me as if expecting me to challenge him, but I didn’t bother. I had no energy to fight him, and frankly the help was greatly appreciated. I knew that Allen could fix me up better than if I tried to do it myself.

Sighing, I grabbed the railing and leaned heavily against the wall as the elevator took us up. My leg felt like it was going to give out on me any minute. My whole body, in fact. I couldn’t wait to just sit down, lie down, and rest.

When we arrived at his floor, I followed him to his apartment. He kept pace with me as if he expected me to fall over any minute. I probably would’ve if I didn’t stay focused. Allen held the door open for me and instructed me to go to the bathroom while he got his first aid kit. The way he looked at me and the tone he used reminded me of when we first met. He had put his stern face on.

I made my way to the bathroom and half closed the door behind me. I looked at myself in the mirror then and grimaced at my appearance. No wonder Allen was acting the way he was, I looked like something out of Swamp Thing. Staring down at my clothes, I noticed for the first time that I was wearing those dark clothes I had washed for some weird reason in my sleep. Either I had tried to do it again and forgot to actually take them off this time, or something really weird happened to me last night to make me end up like this. It bothered me that I couldn’t figure out what the answer was.

Sighing, I turned on the faucet and washed my hands and face. It didn’t make me look any better, let alone feel any better, but at the very least I wasn’t quite so disgusting. I sat down on the toilet cover after that and waited until Allen came. He brought with him some medical supplies and set them on the counter.

“Alright, let me see your leg.”

I pulled up my pants leg and winced when it brushed against my skin the wrong way. Now that I was forced to look at it, I could see the gash marks that laced over the muscle of my calf. Allen cursed sharply, making me look at him. He stared at my leg for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before coming to kneel before me. He took my leg in hand and inspected the wound, and I tried not to whine when he touched it.

“Where did you get this? What happened?”

I wanted to shake my head and just tell him to drop it -- I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t know what happened at all -- but when he gave me a fierce look, I couldn’t. He was pulling the cop thing on me, I was sure of it, and I couldn’t fight him when he did that.

“I don’t... know. I don’t know,” I muttered. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Hesitating, I debated how much I should or could really tell him. “It... It means just that. I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Can’t remember? Were you in a fight? Did someone attack you?” He looked at me over as if checking for wounds. I had none, at least none that I was aware of. Then again, my whole body hurt so I couldn’t really tell the difference.

“No...? I mean, I don’t think so. Don’t ask me...”

“Who am I supposed to ask if not you, James? I need to know what happened. If you were attacked, I need to know. We can file a report.”

I couldn’t really tell him I wasn’t attacked because honestly, I didn’t know if I was or not. And with a wound like that, who wouldn’t think I was attacked? Shaking my head, I just clammed up. I didn’t really like this conversation and even though I liked Allen and I trusted him, I wasn’t comfortable enough to tell him all my secrets yet.

Allen stared at me for a long time, saying nothing. I knew he was displeased, even without looking at him. He didn’t like that I wasn’t telling him anything, and he didn’t like that I was in the state I was. I didn’t really know what he thought about me, if the level of his liking towards me was simply because I was a poor, unfortunate kid he knew, or if he really did like me as a person. It wasn’t easy shutting him out like this, especially when he kind to me, but I just couldn’t help it. I really didn’t want to talk.

Eventually, Allen got up. When he did, I looked at him finally. “Why don’t you clean up a bit first? We’ll dress your wound when you’re done. I’ll get you a towel and some clothes to borrow, alright?”

I nodded and watched him leave. I felt bad, almost regretful, but I couldn’t take it back. Instead, I just stripped down, grimacing all the way through as my body groaned at me at each and every movement I made. I forced myself to continue and shucked my clothes. I paid little to no attention to how it came off, only that it did. Once I was down to my birthday suit, I climbed into the shower.

Though laborious, cleaning off the gunk that clung yo my skin and hair made me feel better. The warm water felt really nice and helped me relax a little, though it did little to take off the sting of my leg wound. Somewhere in between Allen came back and left me some clothes and a towel. He said he would wash my clothes for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so I just said okay and let him take them.

When I finally finished washing up, I dried off and carefully put on the clothes Allen brought me. They were a little big, but not ridiculously so. At least he got me shorts so I didn’t really have to worry about letting the fabric rub against my wound. I had been extra careful when I had washed it, but it didn’t look any better afterword. In fact, it was probably infected.

I left the bathroom and went in the living room. Allen was nowhere in sight, but if I had to guess he was probably taking care of my clothes. I waited until he returned on the couch and stared at my leg. ...I really didn’t know how I got it. No matter how many times Allen asked me, or anyone else for that matter, I didn’t know.

When Allen finally came back, he gave me a long look before grabbing the kit and sitting next to me on the couch. He was probably still thinking about how I didn’t say anything because he kept staring at me as if he was searching for something. I gave him my leg when he asked for it and watched him treat it. I didn’t know what he was putting on but it stung a lot.

It was an unpleasant experience to have the gashes thoroughly cleaned, medicated, and wrapped up. Allen assured me that I didn’t need stitches, but I would have to be careful for while. He didn’t ask me about what happened after that, which I was grateful for. He kept staring at me, though, which was probably just as bad.

He said I could stick around until my clothes were clean so I stayed on the couch and watched television. I was so freaking tired I ended up falling asleep in the middle of a show. Allen had to wake me. I think he let me sleep longer than I should’ve.

He sent me back to my apartment with my clothes and some stuff for my leg. He told me how to take care of it, and that if it was bothering me, I should come to him. It was a motherly thing to do -- or I guess a fatherly thing in his case -- but it didn’t feel out of place. It was nice, really, if only he didn’t look at me the way he did. I accepted it all and went down to my apartment, feeling somewhat better than before.

My body still ached, but it wasn’t so bad after that really long nap. I just had to be careful about walking around and making my wound worse.

Dumping my stuff on the floor, I laid down in my blankets and rested. I wasn’t in the mood to move at all, so I stayed on the floor like a useless log for the rest of the day. I only got up to eat and use the restroom. When I felt tired again, I went to sleep. I woke up several times throughout my nap, but only for a few seconds before knocking out again.

The next day wasn’t really any better than the one before, especially when I woke up to my leg on fire. Apparently it didn’t like that I had slept on it sometime during the night. Turning over, I sat up and saw I had bled through the bandages. Well wasn’t that pretty. I went to the bathroom and took care to wash up and rewrap my leg.

I changed into my own clothes this time and gathered up the dirty laundry for washing in a bag. I didn’t really want to move around, but even if that were so, I still had stuff to do. I had work today too. Thankfully it was a short shift, but that still meant I was going to be on my feet. As much as I would’ve liked to take the day off to let myself heal, I couldn’t afford it. Not if I still wanted to stay in this apartment.

Grabbing up my stuff, I slipped into my other pair of shoes (not the ones I was wearing yesterday, those were pretty much ruined) and went on down to first floor. I walked to the laundromat down the street. Not a lot of people went to the laundromat, at least not all at once. And they definitely didn’t all do it first thing in the morning either.

It was pretty quiet when I went in. Only a couple other people were there aside from the owner. I chose an empty spot to do my laundry, digging around my pockets for quarters. While I waited between cycles, my mind wandered back to the last two days. Between the time I fell asleep and woke up like a drowned rat by the garbage was a black hole. And from there to the end of the day was a blur of dealing with Allen, my leg, and sleeping off the pain.

I wondered what Allen thought of me after seeing me like that. I was already a pathetic kid in his eyes, surely, and now he probably thought I was a little nuts too. What sort of person couldn’t remember what happened when they got bitten? How could someone who sleep walked not wake up when injured like that? Even I didn’t know, and I was the person in question.

I hoped Allen didn’t think less of me. I had no one to look up to at this point and frankly, Allen was the only adult I could count on. I had trouble with people getting close, I couldn’t rely on my own peers, so he was all I had. He was the only person who lent me any help and kept lending even if I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want to drop out of his good favor.

The trudge back to the apartment was no more fun than it was to the laundromat. My leg hated me and I bet if it could detach itself, it would. And beat me with a stick too. I was even more reluctant to go to work than I already was, now. But no matter what I thought or felt, I had to bear with it.

I rested for a while before dragging myself to the bus stop to go to work. I told myself I would try to visit Allen later and give him back the clothes I borrowed from him. Hopefully he wouldn’t think badly of me for showing my face on his doorstep after being such a pansy and not telling him the whole truth.

When I arrived at work, I went to find the owner almost immediately. I asked him if I could switch off with one of the other employees tonight so that I didn’t have to walk around so much. When he asked me why, I just told him I injured my leg in an accident. I didn’t tell him what kind of accident, and he seemed to be satisfied after I let him take a small peek of my bandages.

I manned the cashier, which gave me access to a stool. I got to sit down so long as I took care of all this stuff that involved bills and numbers. I wasn’t too great at the math part, but at least it wasn’t high grade calculations. I could manage well enough on my own, despite not having gone to school for a while. I still got tired toward the end of my shift, though. Even if all I did was sit around most of the time, only sometimes moving to play host, I had exhausted myself.

I blamed my leg for making me so sluggish.

Eventually my shift ended and I was exempt from cleaning up around the restaurant afterward since I was basically useless anyway. Mr. Tsong sent me home with food, supposedly to help me heal faster. It was kinda awkward, but nice. Goes to show he cared about his employees. That, or there was some secret message that said I was a hindrance with an injured leg. Either way, I took it home with me and ate it.

Whatever I didn’t finish I put in the fridge. Which, honestly, was about half of it. Whatever Mr. Tsong put in that dish, it tasted really weird. Not necessarily bad, but it certainly wasn’t something I was used to. It wasn’t even something from the menu, just some secret concoction of... stuff.

Afterward, I stretched out on the floor and propped my leg up on my blanket. It didn’t really take away the pain or make me feel all that better, but at least it didn’t feel so much like deadweight attached to my hip. I had planned on going up to see Allen and give him back his clothes, but the idea was cast out when I finally relaxed on the floor.

Before I knew it, I was out like a light, none the wiser to the rest of the world.