Denton Little's Deathdate (26 page)

I half open my eyes.

I am horizontal. And not in a good way.

All around me, people speak in hushed, concerned voices. I feel nothing.

I hear an ambulance siren.

I close my eyes.

“I got this, fella.”

“Excuse me, Officer?”

“I can take it from here. I'll wheel him into the hospital.”

“I'm sorry, Officer, but that's not allowed. Someone with medical training needs to be with him at all times. Protocol.”

“But I'd be wheeling him alongside these other folks on stretchers. And all of them seem to have escorts with medical training. One of their escorts can double for this guy.”

“I don't make the rules, sir. And unless you got some legal reason why you need to come along, you won't even be allowed to follow us past the waiting room.”

“I do, in fact, have a very good legal reason, son. This teenager is a criminal.”

“Oh?”

“Damn right.”

“Well, after somehow surviving being propelled out of a
car at sixty miles per hour, he seems to be paralyzed from the neck down, so I don't think there's much to worry about.”

“He was already paralyzed before the accident.”

“What?”

“You heard me. This boy's a criminal, and he was already paralyzed.”

“Oh…No wonder he survived the crash…”

“So I can take it from here, you can…go do some other hospital stuff.”

“I…No, sorry, I'll need to see the legal paperwork.”

I hear the unmistakable sound of automatic sliding doors opening.

“You'll have to excuse me if I don't always carry around paperwork when I'm out in the field. Keeping this town safe.”

We're inside now.

“You're excused. But I'm sorry, Officer, you won't be coming into the emergency room with this boy.”

“Now you listen to me, and you listen to me good.” The stretcher stops rolling. “You don't understand a lick of what's actually going on here, so why don't you just let the professionals handle this.”

“No, Officer, I understand completely. Today is this boy's deathdate—I'm fully aware of that—so you think we should just give up. Some other hospitals may operate that way, sure, but we don't. We fight until the last minute, fight to make all our patients' endings as comfortable and easy as possible. Now if you'll excuse me.”

We roll onward.

“Get back here! Stop right now, boy!”

“No.”

“Don't you even get it? Don't you know what time it is? It's eleven-fifty-three p.m. You have seven minutes! God-dammit, what're you gonna do in seven minutes? Lemme take him!”

“No.”

Chaotic hospital sounds surround us. I hear no further protest from HorribleCop.

I could open my eyes, but I'm scared. My gut tells me I'm better off if people think I'm still unconscious.

A quick recap of what I've learned since regaining consciousness:

There was a terrible accident. I was flung out of the car. Others were also injured. I am (still) paralyzed. Being paralyzed somehow saved my life. HorribleCop wants to kidnap me, picking up where Paolo's mom left off. Oh, and I have seven minutes left to live. Probably six by now.

I wonder how fucked up my body is.

“Is he okay?” Paolo! Out of breath. “Hey, sir, that's my best friend. Is he still alive?”

“Yes, he's breathing. Unconscious but breathing.”

“Holy shit!! Seriously? That's awesome!!” Oh, Paolo.

“We don't have much time.”

“No, but that is really awesome! What time is it? This is insane! And he looks good, don't you think, Doc?”

“I'm not actually a doctor yet.”

“Oh, sorry, right, doctors don't wear scrubs, right?”

“No, they do.”

“Oh. Well, anyways, he does look good. I mean, he's bloody, but not superbloody.”

“Yeah, your friend is very lucky. But I'm sorry, you can't actually be back here.”

“But we were in the accident, too. In the third car that crashed into the other two.” Oh no. My family. “And, I mean, this guy's my best friend, so—”

“Look, if you want us to help him, we need to start working on him ASAP. Please, this is the way you would most be helping your friend.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Paolo sounds a little emotional. “Denton.” His voice sounds close-up and his breath smells like pickles. “You only have a few minutes left, and this hospital dude is making me leave. I don't know if you can even hear me, but…you're my best friend, and I'm gonna miss you like crazy. Even though I'll see you in a month, right? Aw, man, this is so intense, I'm not usually a crier. I'm so pissed at my mom for kidnapping you and everything. Hey, actually, Hospital Guy, have you seen my mom? She was in the same ambulance with Dent. With this kid. This teen.”

“I think your mom was already taken into the emergency room.”

“Is she okay?”

“She wasn't wearing her seat belt, so the air bag slammed into her face. She'll be fine, but she's unconscious.”

“Oh. Um…Can I see her or what?”

“No, you really shouldn't be back here at all. I'm gonna have to ask you both to—”

“One more thing,” Paolo says. “Have you seen my sister? Veronica? Angry-looking girl? Looks kinda like me?”

“No.”

“No? Oh man. Guess that means she was wearing her seat belt…?”

“I don't know. You have to leave.”

“Okay…Love you, Dent!” The sound of Paolo scampering down the hall. “Millie, come on! What are you looking at?”

Millie also made it out of the crash unscathed. Good.

“I always liked you, Denton,” she says quietly. “Like, really liked you.”

“Hey, Millennium, come on! We gotta clear out so they can help him.”

“I know, but—”

“Trust me,” Paolo says. “I got a plan.”

“That's unsettling.” The light behind my eyelids darkens as Millie hovers closer. “Bye, Denton. Thanks for everything.” She gives me a tiny kiss on the cheek, then her footsteps join Paolo's, echoing down the hall away from my stretcher.

The conversation from the car floods back into my head. My mother. A virus, injected into me while I was in her womb. Living past my deathdate.

I open my eyes as slightly as I possibly can so that I can see some things but still seem unconscious. White ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights whiz past. I try to get a look at my hospital protector, but it's hard from my angle, especially since we're moving at a surprisingly fast pace. He seems like he's in his midtwenties, black or Indian or Hispanic, I can't really tell.

“Almost there, buddy,” he says. “Don't worry.”

I reclose my eyes.

“Sean, Sean, wait, wait.” A new voice. We slow down, but we don't stop.

“Dr. Hemler, this boy needs immediate attention.”

“No, Sean. Stop. Stop!” We do.

I open my eyes just a bit and see that Dr. Hemler is a nearly bald man, with a mole on the right side of his chin. He's distinguished-looking but wrinkly.

“His time's up,” Dr. Hemler says. “He has just two minutes to live, and he doesn't seem to be in any pain, so that's all we can do.”

“I don't understand. He's still breathing; we should bring him into the ER.”

“Sean, listen to me.” The older doctor's voice gets very quiet. “This instruction comes from higher up. Much higher up. It is in the best interest of this hospital—and all of us who work here—to do as we've been told and hand this boy over to the police.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard him, son.”

He's back.

“We're gonna hand a patient over to this cop? What about his parents?”

“Look, look,” Dr. Hemler says. “The boy's parents are being treated right now for wounds sustained in the accident. His body will go back to them as soon as the police are finished.”

“The boy's body? This boy is still breathing!”

“Yes, of course, but seeing as his deathdate will be over in one minute, it will no longer be our concern.”

“I don't understand. This boy might live past his deathdate, meaning some sort of medical miracle will have occurred, and you're saying it's not our concern?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying. It will no longer be within our jurisdiction. And if you want to continue to
have any sort of medical career, Mr. Davis, I would let this one go.”

I'm trying to listen to everything that's being said while ignoring the insistent countdown in my head. Less than a minute of life left. Maybe.

Unprompted, images flicker through my mind: Running through woods and sunlight. Getting dripped on by a slice of pepperoni pizza. Taryn smiling at me in the hall. Flipping through a comic book. Seeing my dad and stepmom waiting for me as I get off the bus, home from a summer away at camp. Sitting in a circle at preschool next to Sophie Heller. Trying desperately to reach the kitchen counter, but being too small. Following Felix into the backyard, excited that he's agreed to play with me.

My heart beats faster. This is what the end feels like.

“Okay,” Sean says.

“Well, lookit that,” HorribleCop says. “It's midnight. Deathdate over. Guess I'll take it from here, gentlemen.”

He rolls me away.

The thing is, it's not the end. Because I'm still very much alive. My mom saved me. My mom's virus saved me. What the hell does that mean?

Maybe it's not actually midnight yet.

“Goddamn, I can't believe it myself,” HorribleCop says, as if reading my mind. “But I see you breathing, and my watch right here says twelve-oh-one. This is really something.”

The stretcher moves onward. I have no idea where he's taking me.

“You know, you hear stories like this, but you never believe 'em.”

My body starts tingling. It is the first thing I've felt in hours.

“Urban legends, tall tales.”

It starts in my face, then slowly moves down my torso, my arms, my legs, down to my toes.

“But here you are, living a day you aren't supposed to live.”

Maybe this is actually what dying feels like.

“Up to me to get you out of here. I'm sure people are gonna wanna study you. Figure out how you did it.”

How I did it?

I open my eyes a bit and see HorribleCop get on his walkie-talkie. “I got him. Still alive. We should be moving out soon. Of course I'll be discreet; who do you thi—”

“Stop right there.” I know that voice.

“Sorry, Doctor, this boy needs to be taken to the ER immediately, he's only got—”

“Don't bullshit me, Officer.” It's Brian Blum. “I know exactly who this boy is, way better than you ever will, and I know that I can't let him leave this hospital with you.”

Holy crap.

My stretcher comes to a stop. “So you know, huh? You think 'cause you work in this hospital, you can stop an officer of the law?”

“This isn't my hospital. And, yes.”

“Well, you're wrong. Now back off.”

“No.”

“Should I call for backup? Maybe come up with a reason why you should be arrested?”

Brian waits before responding, possibly sizing up whether or not HorribleCop is bluffing. “Before you do that, maybe you want to take a look at this.” The sound of Dr. Brian Blum unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to HorribleCop.

Not a second later, I'm startled by Brian's voice in my ear. “Whenever you can…run.”

He must not realize that I'm paralyzed.

“What is this?” HorribleCop says in response to whatever he's reading.

I feel Brian's hand at my waist, and I flinch. He slides something into the pocket of my suit pants.

Wait. I felt that.

“This looks like someone's prescription for something. What's this got to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Brian says as I hear him grabbing the paper back from HorribleCop. “Absolutely nothing.” His voice and footsteps head down the hall away from us.

I move my fingers. I move my toes. I adjust my torso. I can move!

“Don't have time for this bullshit,” HorribleCop mutters. “Let's take a quick detour.”

Our stretcher slows down. I open my eyes and see that HorribleCop is inspecting all the doors we pass, looking for something. I subtly flex my right and left ankles. They tingle.

“This'll do,” HorribleCop says as he turns the stretcher left through the doorway of what seems to be a tiny medical supply closet. He parks the stretcher right in the middle.

I watch as HorribleCop takes a syringe out from God knows where, possibly from the nook underneath his balls. Ew. He holds it up to the light and taps it twice.

“Sorry to do this, but clearly you're in no position to mind.”

I curl the fingers of my left hand into a fist. My heart is beating a million times a second.

“Just a little sedative, make sure you stay knocked out during all this.”

HorribleCop grabs my right arm and gets ready to inject me.

“Never done this before. Heh heh…Here goes.”

I spring into action, swinging my left hand into HorribleCop's wrist and knocking the syringe onto the ground.

“Wha?” he says.

Then I pull my leg back and send it soaring into his chest. He is pushed backward into a shelf, not as hard as I would have hoped, but it knocks him off balance and he ends up in a sitting position.

I stand up off the stretcher, and my legs are shaky as hell.

I go to pull open the door and race out of there, but the closet is too small, and HorribleCop's seated position directly blocks the door.

Shit.

He slowly lumbers up onto his feet. “You're not going anywhere, son. Especially after that little stunt.”

I skitter to the far corner of the room, my back against the wall.

HorribleCop leans over, picks the syringe back up.

“Please,” I say, my voice dry and raspy. “I'll come along with you. You don't have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” HorribleCop reaches out for me, surprisingly quick, and is about to inject me when the door swings open and someone whacks him on the head with something hard.

It's Felix! Holding a bedpan.

“Get outta here, Dent! Go!”

HorribleCop is, for a moment, disoriented, and I take the opportunity to get the hell outta there.

Felix saved me. Again. One billion brother points.

I walk down the hall, fast as I can, as I go through what feels like the worst case of pins and needles ever experienced by anyone ever.

I'm keeping my head down and trying to play it cool, to come up with some sort of a game plan, when I'm approached by two people in blue hospital scrubs. I try to pick up my pace and avoid them.

“Holy shit!! You are full-on ghosting! What the hell are you doing still alive?”

It's Paolo and Millie, for some reason wearing scrubs. They hug me.

“Shh, I have no idea,” I say.

“I'm so happy!” Paolo says.

“Why are you wearing those?”

“Paolo had a plan,” Millie says.

“Yeah, it was a plan to save you, but I guess we don't need it anymore.”

“No, you might. Felix bailed me out back there and is dealing with HorribleCop, but I doubt I have much time.” I look down the hall to make sure no one is following me.

“Hey, you're not purple anymore!” Paolo says.

“Whoa, yeah, you neither.”

“Mine, like, trickled away after midnight. It looked cool, right, Mills?”

“Eh,” Millie says. “If by cool, you mean gross.”

“I don't think I have much time before HorribleCop is back on my tail,” I say. “Do you know which room my parents are in?”

“You got it, dude.” Paolo walks us down a long hallway, up a flight of stairs, then down another hallway. I try to
remain inconspicuous, just another alive person walking in a hospital. Not sure if it's working. I'm jumpy as hell.

“Speaking of parents,” I say, “your mom…”

“Oh, don't even get me started. I'm freaking out hard-core. Veronica was telling the truth!”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, man. Your mom's been spying on me my whole life.”

Paolo shakes his head in wonder. “I'm so pissed, but part of me also thinks that is insanely awesome.”

“She knew I might live through my deathdate.”

“What? Then why did she crash the car?”

“That was out of her control. I think that's just how I was supposed to die: in a car accident with Willis Ellis.”

“
Cómo
saywhat?”

“Think about it: three separate times I was almost killed by him and his yellow car. But for some reason, it never worked. The purple virus saved me. Especially the last time.”

“You lost me, man.”

“I get it,” Millie says.

“I was paralyzed, so when I was thrown out of the car, I couldn't, like, tense up my body or anything. So I didn't get hurt. I was just a rag doll flying through the air.”

“Wow. Crazy theory.”

“It's not a theory; it's what actually happened.”

“Maybe the purple virus saved me, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know, just 'cause I was also purple.”

“Was Willis Ellis hurt, by the way? And Jeannie?”

“Nah, they stuck around till the police and ambulance came, gave the necessary info, then headed down to the
beach for postprom partying. He was bummed about his mom's car. But it was still drivable.”

“Oh. Yeah. That's too bad.”

“Yeah. Here we are.” Paolo stops in front of an open door. “My mom's in there, too. FYI. Our folks are roommates. Kinda cool.”

“Oh.”

“Don't worry, she's unconscious. I think.”

Inside the room, there are four beds against the far wall. My stepmom is in one, unconscious yet maintaining a peeved expression. Her face looks fine, but she has a large bandage on the right side of her skull.

This is my fault.

My dad is in the bed next to her, also unconscious, his face also fine. His leg is suspended in some kind of cast above the bed.

Also my fault.

Paolo's mom is in the next bed over. Her face is all bruised and bandaged, and she, too, is unconscious.

Her, I feel less bad about. Mainly confused/terrified.

The fourth bed is empty.

I wonder where Veronica is.

As I scan back across the room, I see my dad staring at me, his eyes wide open. He opens his mouth, about to speak, but then says nothing. We look at each other, the beeping of various machines the only sound in the room.

He is looking at me, not with his usual cluelessness. Like he gets it. Like he's always gotten it. And he knows I can't stay here. He looks over to my stepmom, then back to me, and gives a little nod. I want to tell him I love him, but instead I just nod back.

Then Paolo's mom opens her eyes. She looks at me. My whole body freezes.

She stares at me for a few seconds longer, and I am convinced she is going to speak, but then her eyes close and her body relaxes.

Time to go.

I look back to my dad and try to smile. I point to my stepmom and blow a kiss in her direction, hoping this will be interpreted correctly as
Tell Mom I love her
.

He nods again.

I walk out of the room.

“How was it?” Paolo says.

My throat is filled with too many feelings to speak. “Your mom scares me,” I finally get out.

“Sorry. This is pretty insane. You're, like, a wanted man. I'll come with you. This is so
Thelma and Louise
.”

I start walking down the hallway, and Paolo and Millie follow.

“I can come, too,” Millie says.

“Yeah, babe,” Paolo says. “You can be Brad Pitt.”

“Can you give me your phone a sec, Pow?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure.”

I go into his Facebook account and log out.

“Aw, man, don't sign me out of Facebook!”

“Why?”

“Sorry, bad time for jokes.”

I sign in and immediately go to my in-box, looking for a response from Happy Dinosaur.

There is one.

I click it open:

Correct!! ! Come to Bloom!!!! 4 Huge Erections You
Can Buy 120 Pills for Only $129.95!! !!
It's again followed by a link and a phone number, saying to click/call to find the address.

It says,
Correct!
Meaning the sender did know my mother? Or am I reading way too far into a boner email?

“What?” Paolo asks. “Already setting up hot dates in the afterlife?”

“Something like that.”

“Dent!” Felix shouts, emerging from the stairwell door right near us. “You gotta get out of here! I injected him with that sedative, so I think he's out, but he had already called for backup. Lots of it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Go all the way down the hall, take that last set of stairs all the way to the basement. There's a side door down there. Use it. And go somewhere far away.”

“What?” I can't process what he's saying.

He shoves a wad of bills into my hand. “Take this.”

“You're being weird, Feel, I don't wanna take your—”

“Yeah, well, I just assaulted a cop. It's a weird day.”