The Pale: Volume One by Jacob Long (portable ebook reader txt) 📕

Still huddled and shivering, Adam ambled forward. The mist had closed in around him without his notice. Every meager step became uncertain. Soon, even the ground had seemingly vanished but not behind the mist. It simply wasn’t thick enough to affect that kind of obscuration. It was as if Adam had simply lost the faculty to detect it with his eyes. Still, he pushed onward. Whatever he’d walked into, he could walk out of.

Adam took a perilous step that did not meet with solid ground. It fell past, and Adam pitched forward. He found himself tumbling down a steep earthen slope, sliding and rolling, unable to slow his momentum. The only objects in sight were his flailing limbs as they popped in and out of view. The slope reached a termination point and transitioned into a sheer drop. Adam fell only few feet and landed on his back in a cheap mattress. His head was cradled by a clean pillow.

Adam held his eyes shut. He still expected his dome to strike the only rock on the ground and split open. There was no way he was really in a bed.

In time, Adam tried to open his eyes. It was difficult, like he’d just been sleeping for a thousand years and his eyelids couldn’t remember exactly how they worked. Luckily, the room was dimly lit. The only source of illumination was pleasant sunlight that streamed through the closed blinds in slim rays. Clean white linen covered Adam from the chest down, a lone chair stood in the far corner, and an ECG beeped quietly to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“A hospital,” Adam managed to deduce. He was confused at first, but then it all seemed to click together in his head. Of course, he was in a hospital. Where else did he think he would be? He’d been shot in the head.

Adam’s throat was dry, and his brain swam in murky water. He tried to raise his right hand, but it proved difficult. It felt like it weighed about . . . infinity pounds. Trying felt pointless. Some sort of monitor was clipped to the end of his index finger, and an IV needle had been inserted into his forearm, so Adam attempted to lift the opposite hand instead. It was being difficult as well, but it rose slightly from the bed.

Adam sighed and wriggled the fingers gingerly, trying to get more blood flowing, and then he tried the left hand a second time. It was arduous and took longer than Adam was hoping, but he finally raised his hand to his head. He explored the bandage that was wrapped around his cranium. It was probably the only thing holding him together, like Humpty Dumpty.

The call button rested next to his right hand, and Adam willed himself to reach for it, but the hand still did not respond. He tried again and again. He felt his hand attempting to move but was simply unable to do so, as if it were being restrained by an invisible force. Finally, Adam reached across his body with his left hand. It involved Adam twisting his torso, which quickly alerted him that he was not healed nearly well enough to be moving. Still, Adam persisted. He strained those last few inches. He pressed hard on the top of the button, and it glowed red, sounding a soft, tonal alert.

Adam fell heavily into the embrace of the bed with a grateful sigh. He hadn’t felt so accomplished since the last time he’d broken his personal lifting record at the gym.

As he waited, a genuine smile slowly spread across his cheeks. It had all been a dream. He didn’t know how to express his relief. It had all felt so real, even more real than the bed he lay on. Curious how nightmares can have that effect. At least the stories were true; if you fall in the dream, you wake up.

A plain nurse in mauve scrubs entered from the empty hallway, a suspicious look on her face. When she saw Adam, the expression softened and hurried to his side. “Oh my god! You’re awake.”

Adam smirked. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

The nurse seemed in a tizzy. “Uh, okay, uh . . . just relax. Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah, I’m in a hospital.” He eyed the nurse. She had one of those faces. He felt like he should recognize her.

“Right, good. Okay, uh, I want you to relax—”

“I’m relaxed.”

“You suffered a severe head trauma. You were, uh, shot in the head.”

“Yeah, I know, or uh . . .” Adam pondered that idea while the nurse prattled on. He only knew from his dream that he’d been shot in the head.

“You’ve been asleep for months.”

“I mean I guess I know that—whoa, wait, I was asleep for months?”

“Yeah, well, getting your brains blown out will do that to you.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything you want me to get you?”

Adam loved the sound of that. “Oh yes, please! Could you get me a glass of water and maybe some aspirin?”

“The doctor will decide what pain medications you need, honey.”

Adam was nearly taken aback by how passive-aggressive the nurse sounded. “Okay, uh, when can I see the doctor?”

“Should be soon, I’ll get right on that glass of water. Anything else I can get for you?”

“Uh, yeah . . .” Adam considered how empty his room was. Most hospital rooms had a TV or something in them; his was disappointingly empty. “Do you think I could get like a radio or something? I have had this damn song stuck in my head for a long time.”

The nurse hesitated, like she was getting ready to deny him. Eventually, she affected a smile. “Sure, hon. I guess you’ve earned a few eccentric ticks and such.”

“Uh, yeah.” Adam chuckled and tried to put on his charm. “Maybe I’ll start forgetting to wear pants out of the house. Maybe I’ll forget math entirely.”

The nurse was whisking out of the room. “Yeah, well, from what I hear, you weren’t that sharp to begin with.”

Adam snorted just before he realized it didn’t sound like a joke. “What?”

“Don’t go anywhere!” the nurse called over her shoulder. She was gone in another moment.

Adam furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. “Man, the nurse is a bitch,” he muttered.

Hours later, Adam lay with his hands behind his head, and the bed tilted up into recliner position, just staring at the ceiling. He wondered how anyone could be like that. How could anyone treat a patient like that? How could anyone treat a wounded soldier like that, and in an army hospital?

Adam squinted his eyes and scanned the room suspiciously. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He didn’t recall raising the recliner on the bed or moving his arms. It seemed just a second ago that the nurse had left the room, but he knew hours had passed. Maybe even days had passed, but he didn’t remember a single meal, a single bathroom break. It was like his brain was telling him two different things.

Or . . . no. Hold on. He’d lost time—blacked out. Adam’s right hand slipped from behind his head and touched the bandage wrapped tightly around it. He dreaded the idea of what that bullet had done to his brain functions. He could have short-term memory loss or maybe narcolepsy.

There was a knock on the doorjamb. Adam turned to see Benito Alvarez grinning like a thief just outside in the barren hall. He was wearing a clean army uniform. Adam smiled. It was good to see a friendly face.

“How’s it going, man?” Benito crossed the threshold and strode over to the chair, sitting in the corner.

“I have the hangover of the century,” Adam quipped.

Benito chuckled, passing over the chair and continuing to pace around. “Yeah, I’ll bet, but you’re not doing too bad, considering. Must’ve missed.” Benito held up his thumb and index finger. “Tiny target, can’t really blame him.”

Adam laughed heartily. “Uh-huh, all right . . . hey.”

Benito stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

“Did they catch him?”

Benito bowed his head and shook it. “Nah, man. You let him get away.”

Adam flipped his friend off dryly.

Benito hardly reacted the way Adam thought he would. “Seriously, man, what were you thinking?”

Adam was taken aback. “What?”

“Why did you bargain for that guy’s freedom? Why did you let him go and go with him on top of that?”

To Adam, the point was simple, and he looked at Benito like he was an idiot. “Ben, he was threatening to destroy the entire building with everyone in it! He was holding women and young girls hostage! They all would have died!”

“So fucking what?”

“Are you kidding?” Adam shouted. “That’s not right. Come on, even you know that.”

“A-Rod, they were not the mission. It’s a shame, yeah, but we wanted El-Hashem and the information he could have given us. It was not our mission to save those women. Our mission failed because of you.”

“Ridiculous!” Adam threw his hands in the air. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Why?” Benito asked. “Those girls would have died, but we’re looking at the big picture. We needed to know what he knew! We could have taken him.”

“Not if he blew himself up!”

“He wasn’t going to do that anyways!”

Adam looked at Benito incredulously. He was sick of the matter-of-fact way Benito said everything. “You don’t know that!” he argued.

Benito gave him a sideways look. “Come on, you saw that guy. He wouldn’t have done it. He would have pussed out, and then our guys would have taken him in, no problem. Instead, you literally offered to escort him out of our reach.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that. He was one of the few people on the planet that knew for certain Benito was right. El-Hashem never would have killed himself. Adam argued the point anyway. “We couldn’t risk it. That’s not right, and it’s not in keeping with what it is to be a soldier either!”

Benito scoffed. “Oh, don’t give me that! Like you were ever much of a soldier to begin with.”

Adam threw up his hands. “What is this shit, now?”

“What? You know it. You never liked the Army and did virtually nothing to advance yourself. You never went the extra mile. And why would you? You were just counting the days until you got out.” Benito chuckled suddenly at some internal joke, covering his mouth as he snickered away. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

Adam rolled his eyes in exasperation. He saw the rub as well.

Benito elaborated in between his cackling. “Now the next few years of your life are going to be spent in rehab!” Benito shrugged. “Or in Fort Leavenworth, it depends.”

“You know, you’re a real stand-up guy,” Adam said.

Benito shrugged again. “Eh, maybe I’m not so good. Could be worse. I could be a traitor.”

“Okay, how about this?” Adam shouted. “Fuck you, and get the fuck out!” Adam pointed a stiff army knife hand out the door.

Benito stood from the wall and walked expediently toward the exit. “Fine, shit bag. See how long you can keep fooling yourself into thinking you were anything besides a damn traitor in that scenario.”

“Would you shut up already?” Adam shouted after him.

“Just saying,” Benito replied and was gone. He had to get the last word.

Adam seethed with rage. His fists clenched tightly with the fury that he held caged with no outlet. “Why does that guy have to be such an asshole all the time?” It was those times that made Adam question why he ever hung out with him in the first place. Benito’s unique capacity to tell it like it was had a limited charm.

Adam’s heart sank. It was true. Benito did have a talent for telling things like they are, but the implications of that were awful. Adam didn’t want to think about it. All he could do was try to push it from his mind. “Traitor.” Ridiculous.

Adam rubbed his eyes with his right hand and then pulled it away from his face and stared at it. His right hand was working. It had been working that whole time. It had been working at least ever since he put his hands behind his head . . . whenever that was. He still couldn’t remember.

How much time had he lost? Adam quickly looked around the room. There was no clock. The sun still shone. The nurse hadn’t retrieved his radio. It was nowhere to be seen,