Michael

Hospital is the last place I imagined I’d wake up in. But I’m not mistaken. The beeping of the machines, the disgusting smell, the voices…

Voices?

Two of them I first thought were in my head, grow louder, and angrier.

“There was no way I could’ve patched him up. I’m a veterinarian, not a surgeon. He needed surgery.” What? Who needed surgery?

“Shit, what am I supposed to tell them?” Another hushed voice.

“Exactly what we talked about. We found him just like that. You got his papers?”

A panicky exhale. “Yeah, I got them.” A breath escapes me as I realize the voice belongs to Freckles.

“Calm down, I’ve dealt with this before,” the other, feminine, voice quiets into an indiscernible whisper, or maybe I just grow sleepy for a few minutes.

I blink, wishing for the figures to sharpen so I can see Hanna’s face. But the first face is a black-haired, Asian woman. She tips her chin at me. “He woke.”

Freckles pivots to me, stepping closer. “Hey,” her hand rakes through my hair and a part of me melts, even though I know it shouldn’t, but given that I was under anesthesia, it’s probably normal…what was I thinking about? I refocus and take note of Hanna’s own black and short curls, recalling she cut it. “Lyn and I are not gonna stay here,” she says.

Damn it. I don’t wanna be alone.

The woman— Lyn probably, leans closer to me.

“Listen. The cops are gonna come,” she says. “Just moan and groan for a few days. Draw their time. When you have no choice, tell them you got attacked, mugged, and that we just found you in a car like that. Your sister is leaving your papers with you”—my sister? — “The car didn’t have anything suspicious in it. You can tell them that as you ran you managed to take your attacker’s car.” It’s not far from the truth. “But overall just try not to give them anything, okay?”

I nod weakly and do my best to recall what she’s just said. “Come again?”

Lyn patiently repeats everything she said. Moan and groan is the important one, as it’s something that will allow me to sober up enough to bullshit my wait out of this. “Take the papers, I know them,” I utter. It’s best if I tell them who I am instead of presenting counterfeit documents.

“Okay,” Lyn says.

I look at Freckles intently, trying to gather my strength to speak, but my tongue feels numb. She realizes that I wanna tell her something and brings herself closer. Lyn steps back.

“They’re not after us,” I think I should lower my voice but it’s already barely audible. I don’t know why but I feel like crying.

Hanna exhales with relief, tears gathering in her eyes too. “It’s over?”

“Yeah.” I want to ask her something, but the question slips from my mind, and I feel like I’m falling asleep.

…

For the next couple of days, I do as Lyn tells me, moan and groan. Though I still can’t avoid telling them my name, which happens to be John, but other than that I pretend to be so weak I can’t form coherent sentences, or recall what has happened. They buy it, given the fact it’s not hard to sell because I do feel at my weakest point yet.

Lyn visits me only once. I understand why she and not Freckles. It would be too suspicious for her to come more often. I imagine Lyn handled most of this since Hanna doesn’t have any identity to present to anyone.

On the fourth day, after I’ve been moved out of the intensive care unit, Lyn comes late. She wears a backpack that she slides down her shoulders.

I watch her suspiciously.

“I’m leaving you clothing,” she says. “I’m parked outback. Red coupe. Give it half an hour or so before you move or it’s gonna be too obvious.”

“Is she with you?” I ask, avoiding Freckle’s real name.

“Your sister’s fine. We need to get you out of here before they question you more,” then quietly adds, “or me.”

She slips out through a curtain before I inquire anything else. Hm… Freckles has presented herself as my sister. So would I if I was in her situation. I wonder what kind of a person this Lyn is and if Freckles has taken her family hostage to make her help us.

I lay for a while, waiting, before I force myself to sit. My body hurts and my head spins lightly, but I trust myself to sneak out. With effort I change. The pants are a bit too tight for me, but a T-shirt and a hoodie do the job.

It’s past dinner time and the entire floor starts to quiet. I hear some family members on their way out, kids stomping around and parents shushing them. Peeking out through the curtain I make sure there are no nurses, then, straightening my back, walk out of the unit as if I’m just another visitor.

Half hidden behind other visitors I pass the reception and reach the elevators. Corridors confuse me a bit, but I find the one to the back of the hospital. A few people give me wary looks, but no one seems to suspect a thing.

Cold air chills my nostrils as I walk out into the back parking lot. Among many cars I find a red coupe with its lights on.

Lyn’s tapping the wheel nervously when I climb inside.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she grumbles.

I don’t say anything as I survey her in the rearview mirror, feeling distrust well up inside me. Despite seeming like a total noob she could be plotting something, but, alas, in my current state I feel like I have no choice but to trust her and whatever Freckles has arranged with her.

My head starts hurting. I don’t allow myself to lay down.

“You can lay down,” she says as if she’s read my thought.

“I’m good,” I whisper.

Lyn keeps glancing at me through the mirror as she drives. Her eyebrows curl and I figure it’s pretty obvious that I’m in pain. She clears her throat. “If you want, I…um got some pot.”

That makes me grin as I connect the dots. So that’s why she’s helping us. Freckles learned how to think smart and pick vulnerable people despite me not teaching her anything. “Is that what she caught you with?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “so stupid, I know.”

I decide to be honest. “Yeah, it’s pretty stupid.” I might as well appear extra friendly to deter her from whatever she might be thinking that could harm me or Freckles. She did just bust me out of the hospital and she and Freckles were parked on that road, waiting for me, for God knows how long. So far she seems committed to her own secrets staying secret. This reassures me.

“I want you two to go as soon as you’re healed,” she says, her voice a bit firmer. “I don’t want any fugitives in my house.”

“Yes,” I confirm, my head getting woozy. I’m still quite drugged and on the good side they’ve been helping me a lot to just rest and forget about my existence, but now it’s a struggle.

I do my best not to pass out, but I do, as the next thing I hear is a car door opening.

Freckles smiles as she takes my arm. “Hey.”

I tilt a corner of my lips as I slowly get out. We're parked next to a big house. Lyn comes to help and both of them lead me up the stairs onto the porch. As I enter a distinct smell of old wood floats into my nose, so unlike the steel and dirt scents of the city. Freckles flicks the light switch and an overhead chandelier bathes the place in yellow, casting gold overtones over the den and the hallway. Lyn walks off to the kitchen to do something, leaving Freckles to lead me to the living area; a leather sofa in front of a fireplace.

I lay down, my mind and body fatigued after the short journey.

“Not bad, huh?” Freckles murmurs as she sits on the corner of the sofa, at my side.

Not bad at all. Lyn is a rich girl. But before I respond Freckles snaps.

“Why didn’t you jump the train? You left me.” A streak of hurt mars her words.

I snort. “Of course, I left you. You were slowing me down. But I came back, right?”

She groans under her nose, but understands me as she doesn’t pressure the matter and instead barks a short, “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

Freckles double checks that Lyn is out of the room before she asks, “did you kill them all?”

“But one. He actually helped me so I let him live.” Though more like it was Carl who let me live.

With this thought the anxiety rises, forgotten in the midst of survival and as sudden as a gunshot.

Absentminded, Freckles stares at my abdomen, bruises, and bandages covered by my shirt. “How did you kill Jared?”

I gulp. “I’m not gonna talk about it.” I don’t want to expose her already ruined mind to all the details, no matter how bad I ache to share it with someone, to get this weight off my chest. But not Hanna. Not the girl whose life was ruined, by my existence.

She recognizes the reluctance in my eyes and her eyebrows curl. I think she feels betrayed.

“You want to get rid of me, don’t you?” She says. “Of the load I remind you off?”

Weakly, I nod and her face shifts, filling with distress.

“But where do I go?” She bites out as she stares at the fireplace. “I’m a murderer. I-I’ll end up in prison,” she huffs, her shoulders and the veins in her neck straining.

I recall that as smart and educated as she was when she broke my killing doctrine, she’s a seventeen-year-old kid, without any idea of how to live a life on the run, where to go and how to survive.

“Freckles.” I touch her arm, calming her before she has a panic attack. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I won’t ditch you again. Not until you want to leave first. I promise.”

Gold light reflects in her damp, gray eyes. “Promise, promise?”

“Promise, promise.” I don’t want to make any promises as bad as I want to breathe, but I do because I can have the decency to try and fix the damage I inflicted. Or at least be there for as long as she needs me to.

A woeful smile curves her lips and she wipes her runny nose with her sleeve. “Okay.”