Dark Search

  I woke up the next morning at around ten.  I reset the alarm so it would be ready to wake me up for work early the next morning.  I usually sleep in much later whenever possible, and that day it would have been possible except that I wanted to go to the hospital during visiting hours.  I could have easily left the back pack at the front desk, but I wanted very much to meet the young woman in black in person.

  I wanted to know more about her.  I wanted to know her.  I had a weird feeling about her; something in the back of my mind.  I didn't know what it was exactly or why I found her so attractive despite the situation, but I definitely wanted to know what the heck was going on.

  I showered, as every morning, to wake myself up, then poured myself some cold cereal for breakfast.  Cold cereal is the perfect breakfast, in my opinion, as long as it's something nutritional, and doesn't float.  I like a lot of cereal with a lot of milk, and you just can't do that with cereal that floats.  Anyway, the back pack was nearby as I was eating, and I started wondering what was in it.  I debated weather or not I should open it.

  I did believe in respecting someone's privacy, but that's based partially on the fact that most people can't wait to tell someone else about whatever they found, but I'm not like that.  I rarely ever have any desire to share information with someone unless it's something they really need to know.  Basically, I can keep a secret, plus I'm not one to pass judgment on people, so my going through her bag was about the same as no one going through her bag, and it wasn't like I would steal anything out of it.  I just wanted to know more about her.  That's all.

  I took another mouthful of cereal, set the bowl aside, and picked up the back pack.  It was an actual back pack, not one of those purses that just looks like a back pack.  I unzipped the zipper and opened the flap to look inside.  I pulled out two black T-shirts.  I held one out before me so I could see the picture on the front.  It was the familiar N, I, backward N emblem in white letters.  It seemed we had something in common.  I took that as a good sign.  I did the same with the other shirt, but it was blank.

  I looked in again and saw a small, black personal cassette player with earphones; the kind that go in your ears, not the bigger ones that set on your head.  I took it out and noticed there was a tape in it.  I opened the little door on the player, took out the tape and saw that it was a tape by the group that owns the aforementioned emblem found on the shirt.  Those who don't know what I'm talking about will just have to figure it out for yourselves; I'm rarely given to free advertisement.

  I filled my mouth with cereal again, and dipped back into the bag.  I found a few more cassettes, a paperback book that looked pretty interesting judging by the cover, a pair of black socks, two pairs of black cotton underwear (I took a longer look at those than I did the socks), and finally a half full bottle of soft drink with an also very familiar red, white, and blue label.  I offhandedly noticed that she had a thing for the color black.  I had no problem with that.  I almost felt as if I had found a bag that could have been my own, with the exception of the underwear, of course.

  I checked the smaller pocket of the back pack, but it was empty, so with nothing left to look at, I put everything back into the bag, as close to as it originally was as I could, and zipped it closed.  I finished my breakfast and left for the hospital with the back pack.

  I told the receptionist that I was here to see one of the passengers that was brought here from the bus accident the night before.  She asked who, and I told her that I didn't know her name, but I described her; black clothes, leather jacket, black hair, kind of pale.  She easily deduced that I wasn't a friend or relative, and did not allow me in, but I persisted.  I told her that I did meet for a short time, that the bag I was carrying belonged to her, and that I wanted to return it to her and see how she was doing.

  I thought that would have been enough to get me by, but she said that I could leave the bag at the desk, and she would see that it was returned to its owner.  I persisted still saying that I really needed to see her myself, for personal reasons, and asked if I could speak to whatever doctor was tending to her.

  She finally gave in and called the doctor, told him about me, listened a moment, then hung up the phone.  She then told me that the doctor would see me, gave me directions to his office, and let me through.

  After a few turns and hallways and a bit of wandering, I found the office and knocked on the door jamb.  The doctor turned to see me and offered a pleasant greeting.  He told me that the young woman that I came to see had been unconscious since she was brought in, and that they found no identification on her.

  He asked how I knew her and if I could tell him who she was.  I told him that I met her only for a short time, and that I didn't know her name, but that I did have her back pack, wanted to return it to her, and see how she was doing.  I also hoped that I wasn't going to have to repeat all that again.  I told him that there wasn't any identification in her bag either, and he looked at me rather quizzically, apparently for having looked into her bag while not knowing her, but I let it pass.  I asked again if I could see her.

  He asked again, and more warily, how I knew her.  I didn't want to lie to him, but I also didn't want to get caught up in any legal matters of being a witness to the accident and things like that.  I didn't see much room to dance around the truth so I said that it was quite a private personal matter and that I was rather hoping to keep it that way.  He reluctantly agreed, then I said that if it's okay, I'd like to first see how some of the other passengers are doing.  That was a mistake.

  He asked why I would want to see the others, and exactly who I was.  I tried to think of something else to tell him, but nothing came to mind.  I told him that he probably would have found out anyway, that I was at the accident, and that I helped pull some of them out of the bus.  I told him that the young woman was the last one I got out and that I just wanted to return the bag and check up on her.

  I wound up having to repeat myself anyway, but then don't you always wind up having to do that when you want to accomplish something that requires going through other people?  He asked why I didn't say so in the first place, and said I could do as I requested, with him as escort.  I was both surprised and relieved that he seemed to not have any connection to the legal stuff.

  We visited the woman and her overweight husband, then the man with all the muscles, then I stepped in to see the bus driver, but he was still sleeping.  We then saw the woman with the young boy.  I visited each for only a few minutes.

  The boy was a nice kid, the overweight husband offered me some chicken from his hospital feast, which I politely declined, and both of the women offered their profound thanks.  The muscular man thanked me with a sentiment I didn't expect, yet shook my hand with a firm grip.

  I asked the doctor about the well dressed fellow with the broken leg, the young woman that was with the baby that died, and the elderly woman.  I found that I was right in suspecting that the elderly woman had died, the well dressed fellow had taken a room at a motel, and sadly, the young woman who lost her child killed herself shortly after waking up and finding out that her child didn't survive.

  We went last to see the one I came to see.  The doctor knocked, but there was no answer.  He opened the door and looked in to see her still asleep.  He shut the door and told me that she had suffered only a mild concussion, and that she had been sleeping since they brought her in, except for occasionally waking up for a few minutes every once in a while, but not speaking to anyone before dropping off again.  He said I could stay in the room and wait if I wished, but that she did need to rest.  I thanked him and went inside.

  I remember in detail everything that followed, especially our conversation.  I closed the door behind me, picked up the metal folding chair from against the wall, and walked quietly to the left side of the bed.  I set her back pack on the floor, unfolded the chair, and sat looking at her.

  She was like nothing I'd ever seen before, in person at least.  I'd seen a few pictures before, of models that looked very attractive, in a slightly odd way, wearing make up that made them appear pale, but they did not compare to her.

  She wore no make up, obviously, since she was after all in a hospital.  She was naturally pale, and though most particularly pale people do not look at all attractive, to me at least, her skin, which had neither the usual pasty nor transparent appearance, was in such contrast to her black hair that it was almost as if she were actually a work of art.  The hair on her head as well as her eyebrows were jet black.

  I stared at her hair for a moment to see if it was perhaps dyed black, but there was no tint of another color in the sheen; it was of the purest black.  Her skin and her hair were in almost perfect contrast.

  Her facial features were distinctive without being overly sharp, and her cheeks had neither the chubbiness nor the excessive tautness that I'd seen so often.  I could well enough make out the basic shape of her body, beneath the blanket that kept her warm, to tell that the darkness of the bush of her hair did not make her head look too big for her body, unlike many women similar to her that I'd seen before.

  Her arms had lain exposed atop the blanket.  They were the same color as her face and were thin, almost fragile, but not in a waifish manner; she had enough muscle tone to keep her from looking malnourished.  She defied the appearance of every super model I'd every seen, and I think that was what made her look so incredibly beautiful.

  Her face was expressionless as she slept.  Occasionally her eyes moved due to the REM cycle of sleep, but there were no movements otherwise.  I wondered what she could be dreaming about that no facial movement nor expression was initiated.

  As I completed that thought, she moved her head from facing me to facing the ceiling then let it fall back to facing me.  Having done so had caused some of her hair to fall into her face, covering her right, closed eye.  I didn't like the way the wisps of hair distracted my admiration of her features, so I reached across and lightly brushed the hair aside, careful not to touch her face with my fingers for fear of disturbing this beauty at slumber, yet as I pulled my hand gently away, I saw that her eyes were then open.  My hand paused in mid air as I was startled, then it returned to my lap in fear.

  She did nothing but stare at me for a moment.  The dark brown of her irises almost bled into the wells of her pupils, and both contrasted the white that surrounded.  Two more works of art, I thought to myself.  I was under some petrifying spell until she spoke.

  "Hi."  I was expecting something more along the lines of hello, who are you, what happened, where am I, but she said nothing but a seemingly emotionless hi.

  The tinge of fear that I had been experiencing faded away from me as smoothly as the word had left her lips.  It was inspiring how she was in no way intimidated by my presence.  Surely she did not recognize me, I thought.  With a hint of a smile, I said, "Hi.  Are you feeling better?"

  "Yeah.  How 'bout you," she inquired, to my surprise, returning the hint of a smile.

  "Fine.  You know who I am?"  How could she know, I thought.  She had seen me only for a few seconds, in the dark, and not to mention having just come to from being knocked out.  Surely her vision wasn't clear enough.

  "You're the one who carried me out of the bus."

  "Yes, ...but how did you know?"

  "Who else would it be?  You're not a doctor.  And nobody here knows me."

  "I might be a doctor."

  "You're not a doctor," she said, keeping her hint of a smile.

  "No, I'm not a doctor, but what are you?"

  She lost her smile and looked passed her feet to the blank hospital room wall.  "I was just passing through."

  "On the floor behind the back seat of a bus," I asked, smiling.

  She looked at me and said, "I wasn't exactly supposed to be there.  I was trying to save money."

  "Where were you going?"

  "I'm not sure.  I don't know the name of the city, but I know basically how to get there."

  "Really?  Why are you going someplace you know almost nothing about?"

  "I know enough."  She looked at the wall again.  "A friend of mine was talking about where she used to live.  She said it was a weird city where nothing ever happened.  She was moving and had to stop there and take an apartment for a while.  She said it was nice for at first because nobody bothered her, but she said after a while it started to weird her out.  She said it was, in her own words, 'right out of le zone de twilight.' She said she had to get out of there.  Personally, it sounds like a great place to live."

  As I listened to her, part of me almost wanted to live there, and an even larger part of me wanted to live there with her.  "Sounds interesting," I said, staring at nothing, then absent-mindedly added, "Wouldn't mind checking it out myself."  She turned her head and looked into my eyes, bringing me back to my senses.  It seemed as if she wanted to say, Really?  Feeling that I wasn't ready for what continuing on that road would have brought, I looked down at her back pack and picked it up.  "I brought your bag," I said, lifting it and setting it beside her on the bed.

  A look of relief covered her face, as she took it, and set it in her lap, saying, "Oh, good.  Thank you so much.  This is all I have."  She then pressed a button on the bed controls, making the bed change to a sitting position.  She looked the bag over, probably checking for damage, then unzipped it.

  She sifted through the contents, taking out the T-shirts to allow her to see the rest of her meager possessions.  She actually looked lively as she pulled out the bottle of soft drink, held it up, turned, and tilted it, I guessed checking for cracks.  She unscrewed the cap and took a swallow.

  She closed her eyes, and said, "Oh, that's good."  She opened her eyes and took a few more swallows, "Oh, yeah."  Then she held the bottle, resting on her leg.

  "Kind of warm isn't it?"

  "I don't think I'd want it cold, right now.  I haven't had anything to drink since earlier yesterday."

  "The doctor would be happy to know you're awake and speaking.  I could tell him, and he can arrange for some food to be brought to you."

  "I think I'll pass.  What I really want is to get out of here.  Maybe eat some real food."

  "You look okay.  I'm sure you'll be out of here by the end of the day."

  She took another swallow of drink and screwed the lid back onto the bottle, stuffed everything back into the back pack and zipped it while saying, "They don't know who I am, right?"

  "I don't believe anyone does."

  She looked at me, "Then I don't exist."  She turned the covers down, slid her legs out the rest of the way and swung them over the side of the bed.  She pushed off onto the floor and walked across the room to the little closet.

  Like most all hospital gowns, hers was almost incapable of being completely closed in the back, but it didn't seem to bother her too much.  She didn't make any effort to keep herself hidden.  Through the open vertical strip, I could see part of her bare back.  I could barely make out the curve of her right buttock beneath her black underwear.

  Her legs, like her arms, were neither particularly muscular nor thin, and I noticed that all of her flesh had the same paleness.  I notice also that I was quickly becoming aroused, and knowing that it wasn't really the time, I brought my attention back to her face and said, "You're going to leave now?"

  She set her back pack on the floor beside her feet and opened the closet door.  Inside, her jacket and T-shirt hung on wire hangers, her pants were folded and set on the single shelf above the hanger rail, and at the bottom of the closet were her black boots; lace up, not cowboy.

  She said, "Yup," then took her pants off the shelf and tossed them onto the bed.  Her jacket and T-shirt followed, then she picked up her shoes and carried them to the bed.  She sat on the mattress, back facing me, and set the shoes beside her.  She pulled a black pair of socks from inside the left shoe and began putting the socks on.

  At first I was apprehensive at allowing her to leave, but I soon realized that the only reason she would need to stay would be paperwork and a lot of questions.  I was sure she didn't want to deal with all the bother, and I could certainly sympathize, so I said simply, "Okay."

  She put her feet into her pants and pulled them up until she had to stand to pull them up the rest of the way.  In watching the pants slide over the underwear-covered form of her buttocks, I was beginning to feel the first whispers of arousal again, and the whispers became voices when she untied the gown and took it off.

  She dropped the gown on the bed and picked up her shirt.  As she lifted her arms to slide the shirt over her head, I caught a brief glimpse of the side of her right breast.  I was mesmerized for a moment by the fact that I was close enough to reach out and touch it.  How easily I could have extended my arm and let my fingers slide gently over the soft, white curve.

  Then the shirt came down cutting off my view as well as bringing me back to the real world.  I lowered my head, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and released it.  I thought to myself, oh man, as I rearranged my genitalia into a more secure position.

  When I looked up again, she was putting on her shoes.  To detour my thoughts, I asked, "Where are you going to go when you get out?"

  "I don't know.  I guess the nearest fast food joint, then to see about a bus ticket."  I couldn't let her go that easily, I thought to myself, then she continued, "You want to come?  Maybe show me where everything is?"  She put on her jacket.

  "Sure.  No problem."  I thought a moment, "So how do you plan on getting out of here."

  She walked over to her back pack, picked it up, and slung it across one shoulder.  She walked to me saying, "You know, I've always wanted to sneak out through the window."  She inspected the window to see how to open it, and continued.  "Luckily, we're on the first floor."

  "Actually, there's only one floor."

  "Really?  A hospital with only one floor?"  She opened the window and looked at me.  "Where the hell am I?"

  "You wouldn't know if I told you."

  She said, "Probably right," then climbed out of the window.  I followed and directed her to my jeep.  On our way I noticed that her skin appeared a little less pale in the sunlight, but no less fascinating.

  We drove to a cheap, but good, fast food joint and ate, then went to the bus station.  She was rather upset to find that the next bus out wasn't for a couple of days.  She said that she didn't have the money to stay at a motel, so I offered to let her stay with me, and she accepted.  At least I had some time to think about our situation.  She was too good a find to let slip away.

  To pass some time we drove around checking out the few sites, then we spent a couple of hours at the outlet shopping center.  We ate again and then went to my house, I gave her the ten cent tour, we talked some more, got to know each other a little better, and found out that we had much in common.  I managed to not let it slip that I had gone through her back pack, not that I had any doubt that I wouldn't let it slip.  Then we watched some movies on video.  By about eleven she was tired and wanted to turn in.

  "You can sleep in my bed.  I'll take the couch," I said.

  "Oh, no.  I couldn't," she protested, shaking her head.

  "I insist.  I've slept in a hospital bed before.  I know they're impossible."

  "Actually, it was kind of nice after days on buses."

  "Still, you deserve a real bed after everything you've been through, and you're going to get one."

  She smiled and said, "Thanks.  That's kind of you."  She looked me in the eye and put her hand on my cheek.  "I'm not used to being treated this nice.  It means a lot."  She lightly kissed my other cheek and stood.  She took her bag from the floor and went into the bedroom.  I sat absorbing the afterthoughts of her touch.

  While she presumably changed for bed, I prepared my couch for a night's sleep.  Thinking she was probably already in bed, I turned off the lights, stripped to my underwear and got under the covers, and was about to close my eyes when I saw her come out of the bedroom.  She wore nothing but the emblemed T-shirts from her bag.  I watched her as she walked around to the front of the couch, my imagination soaring with what she might be about to do.  She stood and said, "I just..."

  I could tell that what ever it was that she wanted to do, she was uncomfortable about it.  I wanted to help, but I wasn't about to make any hasty presumption about her intentions.  I merely drew in my feet and sat up saying, "Sit down."  She sat and said nothing, only stared at her fidgeting fingers "What is it?"

  She looked at me and spoke, sounding as if she were about to cry, and let it all out at once.  "It's just that you saved my life and snuck out of the hospital with me and showed me around and let me stay with you and we have so much in common and you're just really great and...  and..."  She fell toward me, wrapped her arms around me, and continued, "For the first time, I feel like I'm somewhere I'm supposed to be.  I mean not here in this town, but here with you," she paused, "I don't want to leave."

  I held her and stroked her hair as she sniffed, not yet in tears.  I was elated that she felt those things for me, and it was like a dream come true, but she was in mental turmoil, and I had to think a moment.  I would have been more than happy to let her stay with me, but this was no place for her, and despite the many years I've lived in this town, it wasn't really the place for me.  I could go with her, but could I just pack it all in and leave in two days time?  I had a job and friends, even some family here.

  Among the many things she told me about herself was that she was trying to run away from the life she had been leading.  She didn't have any family or many real friends.  She said that she just wanted to get away from all the crap of the city; all the assholes and all the shit that goes on.  She was just sick of it.  Then she heard about the place her friend had been and she felt that was the place for her.  A lifetime of nothing, and now she's found something she actually wants to hold on to, only to realize she might have to give it up.  I couldn't hurt her like that.  I wanted her to stay.

  If we stayed here, eventually the media would find us, and a big mess would start.  Neither of us needed that bother.  We definitely had to leave if we were going to be together, and we'd have to do it quickly, but I still felt bad about up and leaving everyone with no notice.  I decided that I'd take us both to this city that seemingly was made for us.  We'd have to get up early to pack what we can, and have to close my savings account just to pay for the gas, and if that wasn't enough, I still had my checking account to fall back on.

  I realized that I had no idea how far away this city was.  I could run out of money before we got anywhere near it, but I had a strange feeling that it was unlikely.  I had learned long ago to trust my instincts, but I didn't know if this feeling was instinct or enthusiasm.  Whatever it was, it was a chance of a lifetime, and I didn't want to pass it up.

  I could contact my family and arrange for them to sell the rest of my stuff and the house, which meant that anything I wanted to keep, I'd have to take with me.  When we get to wherever it is we're going, they can send the money to me.  It all seemed okay, but I'd have to make sure word didn't get out as to where we would end up.  I figured that I should probably start off writing checks, to get those clues out of the way, and I guessed that I could trust my family and friends to keep a secret if I asked them to.  It all sounded good.

  "You don't have to leave," I told her.

  She sat up and sniffed.  "What?"

  "We can stay together."

  "You're going to let me here stay with you?"

  "No.  We're both going.  Together."

  "What?"  She was confused until I laid the plan out for her.  After it all became clear, she was happy again, and that made me equally happy.  "You'd do all that for me?"

  "I'm doing it for the both of us," I said, but I was doing it mostly for her.

  She was ecstatic.  she grabbed the sides of my face and kissed me on the lips.  She backed away and said, "Thank you," kissed me again, then stood up and went back into the bedroom, smiling back at me a few times on the way.

  When she disappeared, I dropped back to the pillow, took a deep breath, let it out, and said to my self, "I feel good."  All the while, a smile seemed permanently imprinted on my face.  I thought about all that I would be doing tomorrow, and what things I would definitely want to bring, but the second to last thought that crossed my mind, before I fell asleep, was that I still didn't know her name.  The last thought was that it didn't really matter.