couldn’t interact with his surroundings. He was stuck inside his own head, forced to atrophy in a bed. His mind as sharp as it had ever been.
The waking moments soon melded with the sleeping and he lived in a dream world where he knew nothing of what was happening or why. He clung only to the memory of his sister crying over him. He could picture her face and the tears that must have been flowing down her cheeks. He could see Hank standing by the door, staying stoic though he wanted to cry just as much as his wife. But this was all in Jack’s mind. He couldn’t open his eyes any more than he could stand up and walk out of the hospital.
One day, he couldn’t be sure how long into his stay, two nurses came and spoke about a date one of them had gone on the night before as they scrubbed his body with a sponge. He could hear them ring the sponge out in a bin of water and then feel the warmth of the sponge as it went over his skin.
After they cleaned his body, they dressed him in what he guessed was a hospital gown. They did this by tilting him to one side, putting his arm through, and then tilting him to the other and doing the same. One of the nurses pulled the sheet up over him to his chin even though the temperature outside was soaring.
They wheeled him along the corridor and Jack heard the ding of an elevator before he felt the rising sensation of being carried upward. The elevator stopped and they got off and wheeled him again before he came to a rest in some shade. The nurses checked a few IVs that he could feel connected to him and left.
He tried desperately to scream for them. He tried to move his toes and then his fingers, to blink his eyes or move his eyebrows. But the only functions of his body that still worked were those that didn’t require his front and motor cortex: his heart, lungs, and organs. He was a soul trapped inside a flesh tomb.
Jack could no longer tell the day from the night as few people came to his room. Occasionally he would hear his sister’s voice as she read to him, usually the morning paper. Sometimes doctors checked on him, and slightly more frequently nurses. Once, a neurologist came to his room and ran ice cubes in his ears and up and down his feet. Since he didn’t respond, the neurologist concluded, Jack Edward Kane was brain dead. The family should be notified about pulling the feeding tube so the organs could be harvested.
Horror filled Jack in a way it had never filled him before.
You’re fucking crazy, I’m right here! I’m still here!
A time of long silence passed after the neurologist’s visit before his sister was back in his room. She was reading the Op-Ed section of the LA Times when the door opened and he heard Hank’s voice.
“How is he?” Hank asked.
There was a long pause before Nicole said, “Dr. Bachan says he’s brain dead. He called him a breathing corpse. He said we should…he said we should pull the feeding tube.”
“Did you talk to Mike and your mother about it?”
“Yeah. They said that it’s what he would’ve wanted. That…”
She began to cry and Jack heard clothing rustling. He was frantic and screaming and doing everything he could, his mind fear and anger.
Nicole cried for a long time before Hank said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Jack cried out but didn’t hear his voice. It was useless. The doctor was right: he was now a breathing corpse.
CHAPTER 15
Reese Stillman stood on the corner of Madison Boulevard and watched the cars go by. It was eleven at night so the traffic was thin, but there were enough cars that he would have a decent collection to choose from. He was chewing gum and would pop it every few minutes. He thought that this must be what rich people feel like when they go shopping.
A Mercedes was coming up the block. It was in the lane closest to him. He took a few steps to the right near a bus stop and leaned against the sign. Two cars were ahead of the Mercedes at the stop light.
As
The waking moments soon melded with the sleeping and he lived in a dream world where he knew nothing of what was happening or why. He clung only to the memory of his sister crying over him. He could picture her face and the tears that must have been flowing down her cheeks. He could see Hank standing by the door, staying stoic though he wanted to cry just as much as his wife. But this was all in Jack’s mind. He couldn’t open his eyes any more than he could stand up and walk out of the hospital.
One day, he couldn’t be sure how long into his stay, two nurses came and spoke about a date one of them had gone on the night before as they scrubbed his body with a sponge. He could hear them ring the sponge out in a bin of water and then feel the warmth of the sponge as it went over his skin.
After they cleaned his body, they dressed him in what he guessed was a hospital gown. They did this by tilting him to one side, putting his arm through, and then tilting him to the other and doing the same. One of the nurses pulled the sheet up over him to his chin even though the temperature outside was soaring.
They wheeled him along the corridor and Jack heard the ding of an elevator before he felt the rising sensation of being carried upward. The elevator stopped and they got off and wheeled him again before he came to a rest in some shade. The nurses checked a few IVs that he could feel connected to him and left.
He tried desperately to scream for them. He tried to move his toes and then his fingers, to blink his eyes or move his eyebrows. But the only functions of his body that still worked were those that didn’t require his front and motor cortex: his heart, lungs, and organs. He was a soul trapped inside a flesh tomb.
Jack could no longer tell the day from the night as few people came to his room. Occasionally he would hear his sister’s voice as she read to him, usually the morning paper. Sometimes doctors checked on him, and slightly more frequently nurses. Once, a neurologist came to his room and ran ice cubes in his ears and up and down his feet. Since he didn’t respond, the neurologist concluded, Jack Edward Kane was brain dead. The family should be notified about pulling the feeding tube so the organs could be harvested.
Horror filled Jack in a way it had never filled him before.
You’re fucking crazy, I’m right here! I’m still here!
A time of long silence passed after the neurologist’s visit before his sister was back in his room. She was reading the Op-Ed section of the LA Times when the door opened and he heard Hank’s voice.
“How is he?” Hank asked.
There was a long pause before Nicole said, “Dr. Bachan says he’s brain dead. He called him a breathing corpse. He said we should…he said we should pull the feeding tube.”
“Did you talk to Mike and your mother about it?”
“Yeah. They said that it’s what he would’ve wanted. That…”
She began to cry and Jack heard clothing rustling. He was frantic and screaming and doing everything he could, his mind fear and anger.
Nicole cried for a long time before Hank said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Jack cried out but didn’t hear his voice. It was useless. The doctor was right: he was now a breathing corpse.
CHAPTER 15
Reese Stillman stood on the corner of Madison Boulevard and watched the cars go by. It was eleven at night so the traffic was thin, but there were enough cars that he would have a decent collection to choose from. He was chewing gum and would pop it every few minutes. He thought that this must be what rich people feel like when they go shopping.
A Mercedes was coming up the block. It was in the lane closest to him. He took a few steps to the right near a bus stop and leaned against the sign. Two cars were ahead of the Mercedes at the stop light.
As
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