our group needed help walking there because the drugs she took made her fall down, and another guy lost control of his bowels in his bed, but I figured they were giving me placebos because there was nothing wrong with me.
But when I went to the washroom, I couldn't find my way back. I wandered the halls of the closed-down wing for what seemed like hours before I finally gave up. I lay down on the floor of one of the empty rooms and tried to go to sleep.
As soon as I closed my eyes, though, all the commercials that I'd watched on that television in the ward room started playing in my head. Only now Rachel and I were in them. We drove down a coastal highway in a gleaming new car, we met each other's eyes across a crowded bar and I slid a drink down the counter to her, we played one-on-one basketball against each other in a dark alleyway. I still don't know if it was all caused by the drugs or just a dream.
One of the security guards found me around dawn. He shone a flashlight in my eyes and kept it there even after I'd stood up. "We've been looking all over for you," he said. "We even checked the morgue downstairs."
"What would I be doing in the morgue?" I asked him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around the empty room.
When he took me back to the room where I was supposed to be, Rachel was just waking up.
"Where were you?" she asked me.
"I went to the washroom," I told her, climbing back into bed.
"I had this dream," she said, shaking her head. "We were living together."
"I want your drugs," I said.
----
RACHEL AND I STARTED checking on our baby whenever we were in the hospital. We'd stand on the other side of the glass and wave and smile and make faces. Once, Rachel even bought a silver helium balloon from the hospital's gift shop. It said Get Well Soon on one side, and the nurses tied it to one of the incubator's hoses. The baby waved its arms.
"Look," Rachel said. "It's like baby's trying to reach it."
"It's getting better," I said. I put my arm around her.
She didn't take her eyes off the baby. "It really is," she said.
Our baby grew stronger with each passing day. Soon it was waving its arms and legs together, and once I thought it even smiled at us, although Rachel thought it was just gas.
"I think it's going to live," I told her one day.
"But what kind of life is it going to have?" she asked. "That's the question."
"It's going to be an athlete," I said. "It's going to overcome all the odds and go on to become one of those success stories you see on television."
"I'll be happy as long as it's not in a wheelchair or anything like that for the rest of its life," she said. "I couldn't stand it if it was crippled."
"Even then, it'd still be a hero," I said. "Like that guy who rode his wheelchair all around the world."
"Imagine that," Rachel said, tapping her fingers on the glass. "Our baby, a hero."
----
BUT ONE DAY we showed up and our baby was gone. The special incubator was empty, and now the nurses didn't even look at it. The helium balloon was still attached to the hose, but it hung half-deflated in the air.
"Oh no," Rachel said, putting her hands over her mouth. "What's happened?"
"Hey," I said, pounding on the glass to get the nurses' attention. "What have you done?"
All the other babies started to cry at the noise, and one of the nurses waved at me to stop.
"Oh oh oh," Rachel said, staring at the empty incubator.
"It's okay," I said. "Don't worry, it's all right." I didn't know what else to do, so I pounded on the glass some more.
One of the nurses came through the door that led into the room. "Who do you think you are," she said, "upsetting the babies like that?"
"What happened to it?" Rachel asked. She put her arms around me, and I held her. "Is it all right?"
"What happened to what?" the nurse asked.
"What happened to our baby?" I said.
----
THE LAST TIME I worked as a victim was when the hospital staged a disaster simulation. It took place in the parking lot of a mall,
But when I went to the washroom, I couldn't find my way back. I wandered the halls of the closed-down wing for what seemed like hours before I finally gave up. I lay down on the floor of one of the empty rooms and tried to go to sleep.
As soon as I closed my eyes, though, all the commercials that I'd watched on that television in the ward room started playing in my head. Only now Rachel and I were in them. We drove down a coastal highway in a gleaming new car, we met each other's eyes across a crowded bar and I slid a drink down the counter to her, we played one-on-one basketball against each other in a dark alleyway. I still don't know if it was all caused by the drugs or just a dream.
One of the security guards found me around dawn. He shone a flashlight in my eyes and kept it there even after I'd stood up. "We've been looking all over for you," he said. "We even checked the morgue downstairs."
"What would I be doing in the morgue?" I asked him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around the empty room.
When he took me back to the room where I was supposed to be, Rachel was just waking up.
"Where were you?" she asked me.
"I went to the washroom," I told her, climbing back into bed.
"I had this dream," she said, shaking her head. "We were living together."
"I want your drugs," I said.
----
RACHEL AND I STARTED checking on our baby whenever we were in the hospital. We'd stand on the other side of the glass and wave and smile and make faces. Once, Rachel even bought a silver helium balloon from the hospital's gift shop. It said Get Well Soon on one side, and the nurses tied it to one of the incubator's hoses. The baby waved its arms.
"Look," Rachel said. "It's like baby's trying to reach it."
"It's getting better," I said. I put my arm around her.
She didn't take her eyes off the baby. "It really is," she said.
Our baby grew stronger with each passing day. Soon it was waving its arms and legs together, and once I thought it even smiled at us, although Rachel thought it was just gas.
"I think it's going to live," I told her one day.
"But what kind of life is it going to have?" she asked. "That's the question."
"It's going to be an athlete," I said. "It's going to overcome all the odds and go on to become one of those success stories you see on television."
"I'll be happy as long as it's not in a wheelchair or anything like that for the rest of its life," she said. "I couldn't stand it if it was crippled."
"Even then, it'd still be a hero," I said. "Like that guy who rode his wheelchair all around the world."
"Imagine that," Rachel said, tapping her fingers on the glass. "Our baby, a hero."
----
BUT ONE DAY we showed up and our baby was gone. The special incubator was empty, and now the nurses didn't even look at it. The helium balloon was still attached to the hose, but it hung half-deflated in the air.
"Oh no," Rachel said, putting her hands over her mouth. "What's happened?"
"Hey," I said, pounding on the glass to get the nurses' attention. "What have you done?"
All the other babies started to cry at the noise, and one of the nurses waved at me to stop.
"Oh oh oh," Rachel said, staring at the empty incubator.
"It's okay," I said. "Don't worry, it's all right." I didn't know what else to do, so I pounded on the glass some more.
One of the nurses came through the door that led into the room. "Who do you think you are," she said, "upsetting the babies like that?"
"What happened to it?" Rachel asked. She put her arms around me, and I held her. "Is it all right?"
"What happened to what?" the nurse asked.
"What happened to our baby?" I said.
----
THE LAST TIME I worked as a victim was when the hospital staged a disaster simulation. It took place in the parking lot of a mall,
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