DB Lazarus
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7. Lessons
🕑 Added 2024-10-12 00:42:00 +0000 UTCI calmed down...eventually. Not once did anyone come to check on me. I truly was alone. I had somehow pissed off the only person who seemed to care.
âBetter off without her,â but I didnât believe the words I had muttered. Still, what doctor abandons a patient? Especially one that was having a mental breakdown? I forcibly unclenched my hands. Except, she wasnât a doctor. I knew nothing of this world, and, looking around the room, it was nothing like my own. It was...primitive.
I rubbed the blankets covering me between my fingers. The thread was coarse. The stitching was wide and irregular. No machine made this. They had to be handwoven. The bed was no better. It was crafted out of unhewn wood. In a different setting, it may have sold for a pretty penny to create a rustic look. Here? Not so much. Not with every other table and chair looking unfinished. Where was the metal? And was the floor really packed dirt?
I rubbed my bare foot against it. It was. I was so screwed. I had done some hiking and camping when I was younger, but medical school and residency had kept me busy. I was far from a survivalist. I likedâno, neededâmy tech.
I took a deep breath to stop from going back to that dark place. I needed clothes. I looked over to the corner where she had pointed to before leaving. A pile. I exhaled in relief before flipping off the blanket covering me. I swore. I was nude.
I hurried to the corner only to swear again. No way.
I was naked. My first priority should have been to get dressed, but I couldnât help it. I leaned over and picked up the small rectangular device. Of all the things to survive my journey, my pager?
The plastic carrying case was cracked, but the pager looked in one piece. I popped it out of its holder. I pushed and held one button, waiting for the characteristic beep. Nothing.
I closed my eyes and sighed. âThank goodness.â The relief didnât make sense, but I had been at its beck and call for too many years. Nothing was better than handing off a pager after a long call day. I had been so looking forward to passing off the little bomb to the next chief in two weeks.
I gripped the pager. Now the freedom was tainted. I had earned it, but at what price?
I put it back down so that I would no longer be tempted to chuck it across the room. I would look at it later. The water probably did permanent damage, but the battery might be useful in the future. A small shiver rolled through my body. The pager was the least of my concerns.
I shifted my eyes to what remained of my clothes--scrubs, boxers, a grey undershirt, a white coat, and two athletic socks. Each was perfectly folded. She had cared.
I swore. I had royally screwed that up. I would need to make amends, but first I needed clothes.
I reached for my undershirt when a glint caught my eye. My eyes widened, and I ignored the cold to pick up my watch. A gift from my parents for graduating college and getting into medical school, it had been a constant companion for over a decade. I flipped it over in my fingers, examining it surfaces. I shook my head in disbelief. Barely any new scratches. It survived a drop off a waterfall and still ranâŠ
But how?
I turned the watch over to inspect the gears. They moved. I flipped it again to look at the face. As second hand ticked by, I counted out the seconds. Still accurate. That didnât make sense. Without moving, I needed to wind it within two days.
Did I not get injured as badly as I had thought?
I slipped it on my wrist, before I tossed on my undergarments. Then I examined my coat and scrubs. The river had not been kind. My scrubs had made it out okay. They bore a few new dark streaks, but my white coat was not so lucky. Streaks of black and green, likely from my many collisions with the rocks, covered its surface. One of the external pockets had been ripped clean off. The hole along the left, lateral seam, once sized for a hand to slip through easily, had become a long slit that ran to the bottom of my jacket. A few days ago, I would have tossed it and grabbed a spare. Now, I put them both on. Scrubs werenât ideal for traipsing outdoors, but I needed layers if I was in the mountains.
Of course, that assumes I am still in the mountains.
As I had no way to prove or disprove that assertion, I moved to the next item of clothing. I ducked my head under the small table.
No shoes. Perfect, but fitting.
I picked up a sock and put it on. It was thin, but my foot appreciated it. I picked up my other sock and pulled it up only for it to not stop at my toes. I looked down to find my bare toes sticking out past a frayed white edge. How had I forgotten?
I hadn't just lost both shoes to the river. I wiggled my toes, all five of them. I pulled off the sock and pulled the foot towards my face to better examine my right foot. Not even a scar. But the damage I sustained⊠Was it a drâ
No. I had to stop thinking that. I had to treat this place as real. However, how was my foot intact? I should have lost at least a few toes if not half my foot.
I needed answers. I grabbed what was left of my tools. Not much. Only my reflex hammer, tucked in my coatâs buttonholes, and a few safety pins attached to the front survived. Not surprising really. I lost my stethoscope. I had worn it wrapped around my neck. The oils from the skin did terrible things for its tubingâs durability, but conveniences trumped. Now it had cost me. Though, even in my pocket, I probably would have lost it. After all, I had lost my pocket reference. The water must have ripped out the small books. I cursed. Hard to be a doctor without tools. Even if burning a book verged on sacrilege, that paper dried fast. In an emergency, it might have made decent kindling for a fire.
My head snapped up. Fire. Where were the torches lighting this room?
I walked over to a light and squinted in disbelief. To confirm, I reached out to touch the source, a crystal glowing with the same color as a warm light bulb. It hung from the wall via a small wood frame almost like a wire. I peeked along its edge. No signs of a wire. I ran my fingers along the edge. Not a trace of warmth. I picked it up and rotated it. How did they get the light in there? There were no cracks or seams, but one edge contained a faint pattern or inscription. I put it down and walked to another one. It was the same.
âAre you done examining our light stones? You have wasted enough of my time.â
I spun to face my visitor. At first, I had thought my rescuer had returned, but the green of her skin was off. Every part of her was a shade darkerâlike the dark green of the leaves from last yearâs growth as compared to next springâs new budsâexcept for her long white hair, which just made her hue of green that much more vivid.
Her gaze shifted to the stones, and she tsked. âAnd not even the decency to charge them. What were you doing with all that time staring? No matter. What else could I expect from a Human. But, I can be gracious. After all, I have you to thank for helping to prove my point to my student. Nothing I could've said would have mattered. But a simple example of a fool turning away the only person who cared to help him...â She chuckled darkly.
From across the room, I took the woman in. She stood tall, likely exceeding my height by a few inches. Arms crossed, she didnât bother to hide any of her disdain. It was practically etched in with the rest of the lines in her face. The sinews in her forearms and weathered skin confirmed a hard life.
The pieces came together. This could only be one person: the elder healer. Everything about her scream that this was not a woman to cross, and yet, without saying a word, I had pissed her off.
