The Slender Man (3 page)

“It'll be okay,” I say, hoping I’m not lying.

The minute hand hits twelve, causing the small hand to move
up just another notch. It’s nine in the morning now. The accident happened around
two hours ago, and I've been waiting in the hospital with no news other than
the fact that Adam is one of the survivors. He is one of four people recovered
alive from the scene. The other three are Shana's sister, the driver Mr. Mario,
and a boy named Kenny Larch. All of them were badly injured and are being taken
care of, but the doctors don't appear too certain that they'll all make it. I
look around the room. We are in an alcove in the hallway just outside the
intensive care ward. The families that the bad news was given to are outside or
have gone already. The hospital staff gave us chairs from the cafeteria to sit
in while we wait.

To my left is my family, all looking just as worried as me.
On the other side of the hall is Shana's family, and next to them are the
Larch's. Jason Larch, their oldest son, goes to our school. He's a year older
than me, but still in my grade, and he's pretty big for his age. No one really
likes him though. I won't say he's a bully, but he's very rude to everyone. He
is half white, half Hispanic, but he pretends he's fully Hispanic. He has a
badly shaped half-grown moustache that he refuses to shave even though it won't
grow enough to form a full one.

He is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over
the long red sports jersey that I don't think he ever takes off, and some black
cut-off shorts. He's staring at the ground angrily, and looks like the
slightest tick will set him off. His father Martin is standing next to him, but
with a more worried look than angry, unlike his son, and next to him is his
wife Rita. Despite all of the people in the hallway, the room is very quiet,
and I can actually faintly hear the wall clock ticking.

I hear voices coming from the intensive care ward and my
eyes lighten up as one of the doctors emerges. He's speaking with Sheriff
Fraser.

“...So there were no other parties involved in the crash? He
just ran off the side of the road?” asks the sheriff.

“Sir, I really don't know, all I can say is that he doesn't
appear to be under the influence of any drugs or alcohol. We'll be able to tell
you more when he wakes up, but for now we have to see to the other patients,”
says the doctor before turning and reentering the ward.

Sheriff Fraser stands in the doorway, hands on his belt,
staring at the ground as if he is thinking about something. Is he looking for a
culprit? Someone he can arrest? The sheriff is a little overweight, and has
thinning black hair. His khaki uniform pants are wet at the bottom, so he must
have actually gone to the crash site. “Did they say who's responsible?” asks
Rita Larch. The sheriff shakes his head, “Looks like Douglas just ran off the
bridge. Might have swerved to avoid a deer or something,” answers the sheriff
in his deep voice.

You'd think by his voice he'd have a moustache or beard, but
he's cleanly shaven, unlike all of the other men in the room. It seems that the
sheriff is the only person that looks fully kempt aside from the water on his
pants. Mom is still in her pajamas and it even looks like Dad just threw on
yesterday's clothes, and it's a similar situation with the Hawthorns.

“So arrest him. He was driving irresponsibly! He doesn't
deserve medical treatment!” says Rita. She's known for causing ruckus's over
little things, so I can only imagine the kind of hell she'll raise over this.

“Ma'am I can't do that,” says the sheriff, raising his hand
as if to calm her.

“Then what good are you? You arrest my son for 'loitering',
but you won't even arrest the man who killed a dozen children?” she yells. “Ma'am
I'm here to get the facts. I need to make sure that there was no hit and run-”

“Of course there was no hit and run! He doesn’t know how to
steer a bus. He's too dumb to-”

 “Ma'am, don't interrupt me. Douglas has been a bus driver
here for eight-”

“Don't interrupt my mom!” roars Jason, as he angrily
approaches the sheriff. The sheriff may be out-of-shape, but he's way over six
feet tall, and puts even taller kids like Jason to shame, so it's weird to see
the threatening gaze Jason's giving him.

Deputy Yew steps in and interrupts the bickering to speak to
the sheriff. I can't hear what they are saying, but I half suspect that his
goal is to pull the sheriff out of that sticky situation rather than inform him
of anything important. When the scene is over, I look back at the clock. Only
another seven minutes has passed. I look at the ground, wondering how long the
surgery will take when I hear footsteps and see a shadow approach. I look back
up and see a female doctor with her face mask pulled down to her chin. She has
a certain subtle smile that can only mean one thing, and I lighten up when I
see it.

“Redwood family? I’m Doctor Spruce,” she introduces.

“Our son? Is he okay?” Mom asks.

“He lost a lot of blood in the crash, got a lot of water in
his lungs, and his left arm is broken, but he's stable. We're going to have to
keep him for a couple days, but it looks like he'll make it,” explains the
doctor.

It takes a second for the news to sink into my parents, so
Bubbe is the first to stand up and thank her graciously. I follow suit, but I'm
so happy to hear that he's okay that I give her a tight hug before saying
“Thank you.” I feel tears in my eyes, and can tell the tears have been waiting,
ready to hear about the loss of my brother, but now they are spilling out as
tears of joy. My parents are sharing their appreciation when the perfect family
is there to ruin the moment.

“Hello? Kenny? What about him?” snaps Jason. Doctor Spruce
looks around to face Jason. She is hesitant to answer him, because you can tell
she’s ready to snap back. “We are still working on the others,” she finally
says.

“Then chop-chop, let's go!” demands Jason, clapping his
hands together fiercely. I catch a look from Shana that I understand instantly.
It means
“Why do his parents let him act like that?”
Shana’s family is
in the same position as the Larch’s, but you don’t see them snapping and
yelling. Dr. Spruce looks like she's about to slap him when a nurse with a
little blood on his scrubs, rushes out and makes eye contact with her, shaking
his head and pointing his thumb back into the ward.

I can't translate the message he gave her like the way I do
with Shana, but I know it means bad news for someone. Both of them rush into
the intensive care ward without a word. I look at Shana and see that same look
of dread renew in her gaze. She might not have the relief I just received. We
wait another five, ten, fifteen minutes? It's too long to want to keep count.
Eventually, a lone doctor comes out of the ward, with a grim look across his face.
This must be
Dr. Bad News
.

“Hawthorn family?” he asks, looking over at the Hawthorns.
They all look at him, but don't say a word.

“Would you come with me please?” he says. They all rise and follow
him, not to the intensive care ward, but down the hall. A pit falls into my
stomach. There's no use pretending that the worst didn't happen. No
self-respecting doctor would lead a family on like that just to say
“She's
okay!”
at the end.

The nurse from earlier comes through, with a look on his
face equally as grim as the doctor. He turns and looks at the Larches, but he
doesn't get to say a word before they realize what happened. Jason steps out
and looks at the ground. The parents both hold each other. The nurse stops,
realizing that they already know what happened.

“I'm sorry. We tried our best, and it looked like he was
going to make it but-”

“The driver? Did he die too?” asks Rita. The doctor opens
his mouth as if to answer, but then hesitates. I know what he's thinking:
The
driver's okay, but that's not news to tell people like the Larch's.

“I'm sorry, but we can't release confidential information
like that to anyone but relatives and police,” he says. Jason looks up from the
ground and glares at him. He may be idiotic, but he's not totally oblivious to
the facts. He shoves the doctor and rushes into the ward. I jump to my feet.
He's going to try and hurt Mr. Mario! Both of his parents rush in behind him,
but I'm not sure if they're going to stop Jason, help him, or just watch.

I hear loud footsteps and see both the sheriff and Deputy
Yew rushing down the hall to stop him. I take a step forward as if to help, but
what am I going to do against a guy like Jason that the police can't? I hear
shouting and yells of surprise and objects breaking and slamming. There's a
serious fight going on in there. Before I can figure out just how much damage
Jason is doing I see Shana approaching. Her eyes are wide open, and before I
can even think about what to say I rush over and hug her. She muffles her sobs
in my jacket, and I can feel the warmth of her tears against my neck. I think
of a million things I can say to try to make her feel better, but I don’t want
to belittle the justifiable grief she is wracked by. I can't find anything to
say but

“I'm sorry.” It comes out in a choke and I have to try
multiple times to successfully force it out. I try to think of something else
to say that wouldn't be redundant, but nothing comes to mind, and honestly, if
it was the other way around, I don't think anything Shana could say would dull
the pain. Words can't cure this kind of loss. Her parents remain down the hall.

I'm still hugging Shana when the door bursts open. I
completely blocked out the noise the Larch's were making. Jason has a bloody
nose and is cuffed, being pushed by Deputy Yew who can barely contain him.

“Help! Police brutality! Police brutality!” shouts Rita, but
not one of us believes her.

“He doesn’t deserve to live while my brother dies!” shouts
Jason. I can hear Martin trying to reason with the sheriff, who's walking out
behind them with a paper towel against his lip. Jason must have hit the
sheriff.

After they all clear out of the hallway, I turn my attention
to see my parent’s reactions, but they're gone. Bubbe is the only one still
there, and she's standing with a look of disapproval across her face.  I hear
footsteps back toward the other end of the hall and see my parents walking back
with the rest of the Hawthorns, attempting to console them as well. They sit
down across from us, and Shana and I walk over to sit down next to them. All of
us are speechless for over an hour until Dr. Spruce steps out of the ward and
looks at us.

“Excuse me? Redwoods?” she asks. We all look at her.

“You can see your son now.”

It almost feels like a sucker punch to leave the mourning
Hawthorns to go see my brother, but I have to see him for myself. The doctor
leads us down the care ward that almost looks no different from the public
areas except for the fact that these floors were tiled linoleum instead of
carpeted. She leads us around several turns until we get to the recovery ward.
We're taken to a room with four beds. Two of them have curtains pulled to hide
the patient inside.

“Adam is over here,” says the doctor, pulling the curtain on
the bed closest to the door.

I almost can't believe my eyes. There lies my brother Adam,
who I had inspected this morning before his trip, not four hours ago. He was
happy and grumpy, and ready to go have fun. Now he barely looks alive. If not
for the oxygen mask on his face, I would doubt he's even breathing. I walk over
and reach for his hand. His left arm is in a cast, and this one has an IV
attached to it. His hand feels cold in mine. I sit on the edge of the bed. I
lean in and kiss him on the forehead. As I do I can see a tear splash onto his
face and I wipe my eyes against my sleeve. I stroke his face with my hand
gently, and quietly, almost whisper the first couple lines of Adon Olam, his
favorite hymn. I sing it slowly and out of melody, hoping he can still hear me.
While doing so I can feel more tears coming and move my face away to keep them
from falling on him.

I look behind me and see my parents and grandmother keeping
their distance, waiting their turn. I get off the bed and let them approach. I
slink back into a nearby chair and watch them. My grandmother joins me, but we
don't say a word. Mom sits on the bed next to him, where I was, and Dad leans
against the wall. Nurses walk into the room occasionally to check on Adam, and
the other patient, who I bet is Mr. Mario.

Soon the relief of seeing Adam still alive fades and I begin
to worry about Shana. Is she still outside? I look for a clock, and since I
don't see one, I pull out my phone. It's one in the afternoon. Have we really
been here that long?. There's no way they waited this long for us after hearing
the news about their daughter. I may not have lost Adam, but I've lost Denise.
That loss is even greater for Shana, but I feel that she needs some time alone
right now. I see how badly Jason Larch is taking it, and he’s taking it out on
the people around him, so I can only imagine how terrible Shana must feel,
leaving those emotions inside, and they are just two of the families that lost
children in that crash.

I slouch back into the chair, not wanting to get up. I close
my eyes.
How could something like this happen?
So many children dying at
once and all from a small community like Murphy, where almost every resident
has personally met at least one of the deceased children. I hear the sound of
wind rushing, and open my eyes.

 I’m still in the hospital chair, but I can’t move. My brain
tells my body to move, but I only get a nudge in response. My body is tingling
all over, like static is passing through me. Did I doze off? This must be a
dream
.
I try to look around as best as I can with my limited mobility.
The room is significantly darker. I close my eyes again, but the wind gets
louder, and is accompanied by the sound of screeching static. It matches the
stiffness in my body. It’s like the static is howling, and it gets louder as my
eyes close.
What’s going on?
Is this a nightmare?
I realize that
the howling static seems to be coming from my right and I move my eyes in that
direction.