I told Mom, “I think I am getting better. I don’t have any pain unless I push hard on something, like the bruise on my face. My appetite is also back to normal except for one thing. When can I have a real meal?” I laughed, then smiled at my folks. It was so nice having them here. I was curious about what had been going on at home.

“Does anyone, especially Mrs. Santoni, know I’m here?”

Mom answered and she and Dad both shook their heads, “No. We didn’t have time to tell anyone.”

Dad added, “I didn’t say anything when I left work. I just rushed out. Maybe someone there might have suspected, but that’s just conjecture. What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want Quin to get suspicious. I want this to be a big surprise when the cops arrest him.”

Carmelita came in and grinned at me. “Guess what?”

“I’m being released! I can go home today!”

“Oh, yeah. Like no way, José! I’m here to feed you. I have a delicious selection of pills and tablets, and even a colorful capsule. Yummy!”

She shook a little paper cup and I heard the pills rattle. She handed it to me and poured a cup full of water. I looked at the pills, and using the saliva trick I tossed them into my mouth and drank them all down at once with all of the water.

“Yummy they are not. I’m just glad I don’t taste them.”

“Do you need to urinate?”

“I suppose so.”

She turned to my folks. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee. I’ll be through with Brian by the time you get back.”

My folks agreed and left my room. Carmelita offered to help me get up, but I was able to do it by myself.

“Very good, Brian. I’m amazed how you’re getting so much better so quickly.”

“Will Dr. McFadden be coming to see me today?”

“He has rounds this morning, so I’m sure he’ll stop by to see how you’re doing.”

I walked into the bathroom all by myself. “Do you need to collect a specimen?”

She nodded. “Yes, we need one each time you urinate.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. The bruise on my face was not as colorful and it didn’t hurt when I touched it, though if I pushed on it hard it hurt. I closed my right eye and my vision from my left eye was still a bit blurred. I didn’t try pressing on the bandage on my head. I knew that would hurt, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to mess around with it. I screwed the cover onto the collection bottle and washed my hands. God, I felt so grubby. I walked out of the bathroom and handed Carmelita the collection bottle, which she took with her gloved hand and put it into a box that had a label with my name on it. She peeled the glove off and put it in the red plastic box on the wall marked ‘Hazardous Waste’.

“Can I sit up? I’m getting awfully sore lying in that bed. Especially my butt and my legs.”

“Dr. McFadden has ordered a patient chair for you. I’ll have them bring it in. The positions of the back and seat can be adjusted so it should be a lot more comfortable for you. In the meantime, can you get in bed by yourself?”

I replied, “Yup,” and I got in bed and pulled the cover over me. “See? I’m all better now!”

“Let’s let me decide that!” It was Dr. McFadden. “I understand that you’re feeling a lot better today. Does anything hurt?”

“My back and my legs and my butt.” I saw the expression on his face. “From lying in bed all the time. Carmelita said she’d have a patient chair brought in so I could sit up.”

“Yes, I’ve authorized that. Now, I want to do a thorough examination. Let’s get started. Oh, by the way, I saw your parents and suggested that they go out to lunch, somewhere better than the cafeteria. They’ll be back in about an hour. We should be finished by then.”

“If they can go out to lunch, can I get something more than a liquid diet? And real food that tastes better? I’m hungry, and the liquid diet is so boring.”

“Let’s complete your exam and decide about whether we can put you on a regular diet after I see your test results. I’ve switched you to a semi-liquid diet for now, that’s what you had for breakfast. You’ll have that for lunch as well.”

When Dr. McFadden said he’d give me a thorough exam he wasn’t kidding. There was no part of my body he didn’t poke, prod, look at, listen to, or insert things into. Some of it was very embarrassing. The same orderly who brought my breakfast asked if he could bring me my lunch, and Dr. McFadden asked him to bring it back in a half hour. In all, it took him over an hour to examine me, with him entering my results into an iPad-like tablet that wasn’t an iPad. He told me that the hospital used HP tablets that have Windows 7 so it was compatible with their patient management software.

When he was finished with the exam he looked at me and smiled. “Brian, I’m amazed at your recovery. It was just yesterday morning when you came out of your coma. Ah, the resilience of youth! I’ll turn in a request to have you moved to a private room this afternoon. In the meantime, I’d like you to try to have a bowel movement and we’ll collect the stool. Carmelita will show you what to do. Then you can have your lunch.”

I don’t even want to think about the stool sample business. It’s enough to say that it turned out to be... um... sort of clumsy. The worst part was that I couldn’t really wipe myself. Carmelita did it. Oh my god! That was so embarrassing.

The orderly brought me my lunch. I had chicken noodle soup with the noodles (good), a cheese sandwich (passable but dry because it didn’t have any mayo or lettuce), butterscotch pudding (excellent!), and milk. I ate it all.

A few minutes later another orderly wheeled in a padded chair with a tall back. It looked comfortable. Carmelita put a blanket over the back and another one across the seat and arms. I got out of bed and sat in the chair, and she put one of those warmed blankets over my lap and legs.

“Is it comfortable, Brian?”

“Yeah, it is. It feels so much better not having my legs straight out like when I’m in bed.”

She pulled the TV control from the bed and handed it to me. “If you need anything, or want to get back in bed, please press the red call button. Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you want anything?”

“Maybe something to read.”

“Let me see what I can find. Unfortunately, we don’t have much reading material here in the ICU. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I turned on the TV. The only thing on seemed to be soaps and those stupid shows where they yell at and embarrass someone who’s cheated on their husband or boyfriend and there’s lots of crying. You know the kind I mean. I turned off the TV. Carmelita returned with a newspaper and a paperback book.

“Here’s today’s newspaper. Do you like science fiction? The only book I could find is this one.”

She handed me a book. It was ‘The Callahan Chronicals’ by Spider Robinson. I’d never heard of it. Turns out it’s a collection of short stories about a bar somewhere in the U.S.A. where aliens and time travelers come and mingle with humans and if they have problems they get solved. It’s interesting and funny. I was on the third story when Mom and Dad walked in.

“You’re sitting up!” Mom walked over and kissed me on my forehead.

“Yeah, and I’m being moved to a regular room some time later today. Dr. McFadden says he’s amazed that I’m recovering so fast.”

“Well, make sure you don’t overdo it.” That’s such a typical Mom thing to say.

“I see you have a book. What are you reading?” Dad asked.

“It’s a bunch of funny science fiction stories. It’s great!” I showed them the cover. “Carmelita brought it to me.”

“Your mom and I bought you two books. There was a bookstore near the restaurant where we had lunch. I asked a clerk about science fiction books and he recommended these. This one is ‘Going Postal’ a novel he said is very funny, and ‘Escape from Earth’ is a collection of short stories. I hope these are okay.”

“They’re great! Thanks. I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Brian.” Dad squeezed my hand and Mom stroked my cheek.

“Why don’t you guys go do something you’d like to do? Sitting here watching me read isn’t going to be very interesting. Here’s today’s newspaper. Maybe there’s something in it about what’s going on in town. And you could ask Carmelita about things to do.”

Mom nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, Greg. We can come back a little later. Let’s let him read now.” She looked at me. “You should try to relax. It’s important that you get lots of rest.”

I wanted to say that I spent more than enough time in bed and resting, but instead I just said, “Okay.”

Dad put my new paperbacks on the top of the cabinet. “Since it’s okay with you that we go out sightseeing, I think it’s a good idea too. Enjoy your stories. We’ll see you later.” They got up, kissed me, and left.

I got back to my book.

A little later I looked up at the clock. It was almost three. I had read about two-thirds of the book, and I dog-eared the corner of the page I was on and put the book down. Have you ever been a patient in a hospital? When you start getting better it gets totally boring. At least that’s my experience. The TV is crappy, there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go. The food made me wish that I was eating in the cafeteria at school. I hurt from lying in bed almost all the time, and now from sitting in the patient’s chair for hours. I wanted to get up and walk around, but I guess that’s something they don’t let you do in the ICU. Or maybe it was because of my injuries. All I knew they weren’t letting me get up and walk around. I got up anyway and walked to my bed and lay down. I lowered the back so I was about half-way between my sitting up position and lying flat. That felt the most comfortable.

The ICU seemed quiet. My door was about a quarter of the way open and I normally could hear beeps from monitors in other rooms and out in the open part of the ICU. That made my eyes open up all the way. How did I know there was an open part of the ICU? I hadn’t been out of my private room in the ICU since I came out of my coma. The only walking they let me do was from my bed to my bathroom and back and to and from the new patient chair.

Something at the back of my brain began to tickle my memory. At first it seemed like a dream then it seemed like it might be real then it went back to seeming imaginary. It just wasn’t tangible. I couldn’t recall anything other than fleeting thoughts. I lay back and closed my eyes and tried to remember. It’s very hard to remember something that might be from my imagination. Maybe I should think about waking up from my coma. That happened only two days ago so I should be able to remember.

In bits and pieces things started to come to me, but all out of order. Being connected up to monitors and IV’s. Lots of beeping from the monitors. Lots of people yelling. Lying in a hospital bed with bandages around my head and wondering why I was there. Talking to Dr. McFadden. Humming a song that I can’t remember. Having a hard time breathing and shouting for someone to help me. Connie sitting next to me, holding my hand, and how that made me feel fine. That’s it! That’s the song! An old R.E.M. song where part of the lyrics went and I feel fine. I remembered how warm and comfortable if felt having Connie rub my hand, how I looked down watching her as she did that... oh my god! Everything came back in a rush, like I’d just unlocked the part of my brain that held those memories. I remembered everything, all at once. When I looked down at myself, the spirit part of me looking down at me lying in the hospital bed. Telling Dr. McFadden where I lived and my folk’s names. And more, all of it.

I remembered that early in the morning when I first left my body I went out and looked around the ICU. I remembered doing that, looking in the other ICU rooms and the open area, with the patients in their beds hooked up to IV’s and monitors just like the part of me in a hospital bed. I’d looked at their charts with their names. I remembered some of their names. Ryan Seaholm. Paula Lawrence. William Strickland. Robert Norman. Calvin Llongo. I remembered the most important name, Brian Anderson, my name. I remembered my spirit and my body coming back together. I remembered the pain in my head and chest and... I started crying, I couldn’t help myself.

My folk’s weren’t in the room, and I was glad they weren’t. Shit, I’m fifteen years old. Guys my age aren’t supposed to just start crying for no reason. I finally stopped. It made me feel good, like I got rid of a bad emotion, the emotion left over from finding out what Quin did to me. Getting rid of that made me able to look at it... what, rationally? That was it. Rationally. Now I had other memories that felt good. Remembering how I’d been out of my body felt good. In fact, it felt wonderful. That’s something I’ll never forget. I realized that that I went through an important experience, the most important experience of my entire life. Being able to have my spirit come out of my body and call for help. Being able to have my spirit talk to Dr. McFadden and to Connie. Being able to come back together and have my spirit rejoin my body. That’s the most important. And the most private. It’s not the sort of thing I can tell someone, anyone. Not even my folks. Especially not my folks. If I told anyone they’d think I was crazy. But I know it’s real. And so do Dr. McFadden and Connie.

Damn, I wish I knew the time. Why did they put the clock on the wall above the head of my bed? Dumb place to put it. I smiled because I remembered thinking about that when I was outside of my body. Remembering that memory made me laugh out loud. I also remembered how being outside of my body seemed so... so natural. And yet it was about as unnatural as anything could be. It was like the guy in Avatar who’s put in a coffin-like machine so he can control his avatar, a native body that he joins with and he becomes that native of the planet Pandora. When my spirit rejoined my body it was like I became a native of the planet Earth. Would my body just collapse like the avatar in the movie if my spirit left it again? Is that like death? Is that what life’s all about? Where does my spirit belong? Is my spirit actually my soul? Are my soul and my spirit the same thing or different? Do I have a soul? Is there a soul in every person? Does everyone have a spirit? I sure don’t know the answers to these questions.

My mind seemed to be going a million miles an hour, thinking about all of these things. These are things I’d never thought about before. It’s probably because I’d never had an experience like this before. Maybe nobody else ever had an experience like this before. That’s what’s making me think about it. I realized that it’s helping to make sure I remember my spirit being separated from my body.

I yawned. For the first time since I got here yawning didn’t make my face hurt. Maybe I am getting better. I sure hope so. I know I feel better. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I had a dream about Quin. For me it wasn’t a nightmare, but if Quin had this dream it sure would have been his nightmare. Somehow I knew in my dream that I was dreaming. I could change things in my dream like the director of a movie. That’s very cool! Anyway, in my dream we were in court at Quin’s trial for attacking me. He was being tried as an adult. He kept saying he didn’t do anything, that he didn’t even know me. The prosecutor called witnesses and all of them gave testimony that proved Quin lied. Then his two buddies came in and testified against him. He was found guilty of kidnapping and attempted murder and sent to prison for 25 years to life. Normally I don’t remember my dreams, but when I woke up I replayed it in my mind. I knew that the trial probably wouldn’t happen that way, but it was fun to think of the expression on Quin’s face when he was sentenced. But it was just a dream. The trial hadn’t happened yet.

I guessed it was time to find out when I was going to be moved to a regular room. I saw that I’d left the TV and call button thing on the chair. I got up and walked over to the chair and sat down. I pushed the red button. Sitting in the chair I could see the clock above the bed. It was quarter after five, exactly. After a few minutes a nurse I’d never seen before came in. Her tag said her name was Jennifer.

“You need something?”

Well, that was sort of snappy. “Dr. McFadden said I’d be moving out of ICU to a regular room today. Do you know when that’s going to happen?”

“Let me check. I’ll be right back.” Okay, that’s better, more friendly.

I picked up the Spider Robinson book I’d been reading and opened it to where I’d dog-eared the page. After twenty minutes I finished reading the next story. The nurse came back right at that moment. Perfect timing.

“I checked the room schedule. It looks like you’ll be moved into a semi-private room tomorrow before lunch.”

“What’s a semi-private room? Dr. McFadden said I’d be in a private room.”

“A semi-private room has two patients. There’s a solid folding divider between the beds which gives more privacy than a cloth divider. You and the other patient share a bathroom. One of the patients is being released today, so the room needs to be prepped for you. That means cleaning and sterilizing, changing the bed linens, sending your records up to the third floor, getting everything ready for you. We’re crowded this week and all private rooms have patients who won’t be discharged until Monday.”

“Uh, who’ll be in the other bed?”

“The only information I can give you is that it’s a boy. Everything else about the patient is confidential. Of course, you can talk to him and ask him his name and whatever else you want.”

“Any idea how old he is?”

“No, that information isn’t provided.”

“Is there only one TV?”

She laughed at that question. “No, each patient has their own flat-screen TV. So each of you can watch whatever you want and it won’t disturb the other person. Just like here, your remote has your own speaker.”

 “Dinner? Am I still on a semi-liquid diet?”

“That’s on your chart.” She pulled out her tablet and looked up my record. “You’ve been changed to a light diet. Tonight you’ll have hot tea, cream of vegetable soup, pasta with chicken and vegetables, bread and butter, and vanilla ice cream for dessert.”

“Wow, that sounds good. It’s a huge improvement. Does my record show when I’ll be going home?”

“I don’t see a discharge request. That will be something you need to ask the next time you see Dr. McFadden. Any other questions?”

“When is dinner?”

“In about a half hour. That’s always variable depending on how busy they are. Since we’re full it could take a little longer. If you’re hungry now I can bring you some crackers or cookies and something to drink. You can have orange juice, tea, milk, or 7-Up.”

“Milk and cookies, please.”

“I’ll be right back.” And she was. The cookies were vanilla wafers, not a big favorite of mine, but okay. Jennifer had opened the milk carton and the top of the package of cookies so I didn’t have to fight them using one hand and my teeth. There were about a dozen cookies in the package, and I ate them slowly with the milk. Maybe they weren’t Mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, but oh my god, were they delicious.

I’d just finished my snack when Mom and Dad came back. Mom kissed me on my forehead. “Finish your book?”

“I’m maybe three-quarters through it. It’s really interesting and funny. The author is Spider Robinson, and he wrote several other books in this series. I want to read those too. So, what did you do today? Where did you go? Did you find something interesting?”

Dad snorted. “Brian, I’ll give you one guess what we ended up doing.” I looked at Mom’s expression and I knew.

“You went shopping. Is there a mall in Weatherford?”

“No, but there is one about a half hour from here in Fort Worth.”

I started to laugh. “So, Mom, you dragged Dad all the way to Fort Worth then all around a mall this afternoon. You should take pity on him.”

“I did not drag your father around the mall. He walked by himself, without any dragging needed. Well, mostly without dragging, though he was reluctant to go into some of the women’s clothing shops. So, maybe just a little dragging.”

We all laughed. My mom is famous for her love of shopping.

We sat and chatted about their shopping trip and the things that Mom bought. That included some “surprises” for me.

We were interrupted by Jennifer. “There’s a Mr. Collingswood to see you and your parents, Brian. He asked me to give you his card.” She handed me his business card. I listed his name as Brian Collingswood from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Fort Worth Field Office. I started to laugh.

Dad looked at me like I had gone loony. “What are you laughing about?”

Through my laughter I replied, “Another Brian... his name... Brian... Collingswood.”

Dad started to laugh too.

Mom was all business, and she replied to Jennifer, “Please bring him in. We’ve been waiting for him.”

Jennifer stepped out of my room and I saw her wave her hand. A tall Black man entered my room. He looked at me.

“Hi. You must be Brian Anderson. I’m Brian Collingswood. You and I must be related. Same first names.”

That started me and Dad laughing again. Dad recovered first.

“You might be wondering why we’re laughing. The Edmond police inspector...”

He interrupted. “His name is Brian. When I met with him today he talked about the odds of having three Brians like this. He figured you’d find it funny, Brian. He told me about the Tall Brian and the Old Brian bit. It is funny. I can hardly wait to tell my partner when I get home tonight. He’ll find it especially hilarious because his name is also Brian. I’ll tell him I’ve been out collecting more Brians.”

When I stopped laughing at that I grinned. “Oh my god, I’d love to be there to hear his reaction. Anyway, I’m Brian Anderson, and these are my parents, Phyllis and Greg Anderson.”

He shook hands with me and with my folks, and sat in the extra chair that was on the same side of the bed where I was sitting, and opposite my folks. He turned so he was mostly facing me.

“Brian, and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, I won’t take much of your time. I have a few questions to ask you. I’ve met with the Edmond and Weatherford police and we’ve discussed your case, and I've read the transcripts. Is it alright to record our session?”

“Sure,” I responded, and both my folks said “Yes.”

He went through the intro bit on his recorder, and began asking questions.

“I just want to verify. You don’t remember being driven from Oklahoma to Texas, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I’ve reviewed all of the transcripts of the interviews you had, and there’s one thing I didn’t find. Can you describe the car that Quinten Santoni was driving when they abducted you as you were walking home from school?”

I couldn’t believe it. Neither the Weatherford or Edmond police had asked me that question, and I didn’t think about it either.

“I’m not sure. It looked new, a metallic red four-door, with one of those personalized Oklahoma license plates that have an orange background. The license plate number is QUIN10. His dad is a Chrysler dealer so it must be that kind of car. Maybe a Dodge? I never saw it before.”

“Excellent. Getting the plate number is a big help. Now, when is the first time you learned that you’d been found in Texas?”

“This Thursday morning, when I came out of my coma.”

“Just to clarify, the date you came out of your coma was the eighteenth of February?”

“Yes.”

“And you were in a coma that was induced by a blow to your head that occurred on Thursday, the eleventh of February?”

“That’s what the doctor told me.”

“And you don’t have any personal knowledge of being in a coma for that period of time?”

“No, I was in a coma and didn’t know anything that had happened between the time Quin hit me until I woke up yesterday morning, the eighteenth of February.”

“And you don’t recall anything that happened between the time of the blow to your head and yesterday morning? You didn’t wake up or become aware for even the slightest length of time?”

“That’s correct.” I wondered where these questions were leading. And where they came from. He couldn’t have heard about my spirit thing, could he? But even if he had heard something, I really did come out of my coma yesterday morning.

“I know you’ve told the Weatherford and Edmond police already, but I want to hear it from you. Please describe what happened from the time you started walking home until you were picked up by Quinten Santoni.”

“After school Thursday I took the bus home like always, but it broke down and we had to get off. I was close to home so instead of waiting for another bus I started walking. Then Quin and his asshole buddies Tom Calloway and Grant something, I don’t know his last name, pulled up. Quin was driving the car, and they saw me walking and there was no one else around. They grabbed me and pulled me into the car.”

“Do you know for a fact that the car belongs to Quniten Santoni?”

“No, it might be owned by his parents. But it’s got his personalized license plate, QUIN10, get it? Quinten.”

He smiled, but didn’t make a comment.

“You left your fingerprints in the car, is that correct?”

“Yes. They shoved me on the floor in the back seat and Tom Calloway held me down. I saw a piece of chrome under the driver’s seat so I touched my forehead then pressed my fingers against the piece of chrome. I did it in several places so there’d be a good impression. Tom couldn’t see what I was doing because his leg was blocking his view.”

“How did you think of doing that?”

“I saw it on CSI.”

This time he did laugh. “I love the help we are getting from people who learned what to do from CSI. That’s the last question I have for you. End of interview.” He turned off his recorder.

“Thanks, Brian, and you too Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”

“Thank you, Brian. And tell your partner Brian that I think the name Brian is the coolest ever.” I grinned.

He winked at me, and I winked back. That was so cool, a gay FBI agent who’s out and comfortable enough with it to mention it to me. I’m not gay, but I don’t have any problems with people who are gay. That’s one of the things that pisses me off the most about Quin and his homophobic slurs.

My folks and I said goodbye to Brian and I yawned.

“Hey, where’s my dinner?”