Page 4 of Phoenix Chosen 2

Before he leaves, he points out the TV to me and shows me the remote. “Or I think someone left a spare Kindle in the break room if you want to use it,” he says, looking pityingly at the broken phone sitting on the counter.

I just smile and shake my head. Honestly, it didn’t even occur to me to look for a distraction.

The meatloaf tastes like what I’d imagine wet dog food would taste like, and the rest isn’t much better—except for the Jello pudding. The Jello pudding kicks ass.

Later, Dr. Luna comes back to check on me. She also seems concerned that I’ve been just sitting there quietly, not watching TV or anything. She doesn’t understand that Iamdoingsomething. I’m focusing every part of my mind on calling out to Circeana, to the Great Phoenix, to Kalistratos. I mean, I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing, but it feels right. It’s a bit like meditation, maybe.

She checks my pain levels, then helps me out of bed and has me walk up and down the hall using a walker. I honestly don’t feel like I need it, but I use it anyway. Finding the figurine ignited a glimmer of warmth inside of me—hope, maybe—and that’s what I’m going to hold on to. Everything hurts, but injuries are the last thing I’m concerned about.

Though earlier I was so eager to get back to my dreams, now I feel like I don’t want to sleep. I’m left listening to the steady beep of the monitor and the quiet bustle of the hospital outside of my door. The curtains are drawn and I sit up in bed, focusing. Holding the little figurine, focusing on it, replaying the memories of our escape from the soul reaver over and over.

I remember the presence that revealed itself to us just before I was drawn through the portal. Kalistratos, Alyx, and Airos had all seen him. Yeah… Airos had shouted to Kalistratos to freeze time, but his powers hadn’t worked.

Why? What had prevented him from using his abilities?

The First. Wasn’t that what they’d called themselves? What did that even mean?

I dream about trying to stay awake. I only know that I’m asleep because of the sound of the door opening and Marc announcing, “Good morning, Tyler!”

I still have the figurine gripped tightly in my hands.

“How we feeling?” he asks as he checks my vitals. “Any pain?”

“No.” I twist my torso back and forth. “No, actually, I feel pretty good.”

“Whoa, whoa! Not too eager, alright?” he says, patting my shoulder.

Yeah, I’m sore. But the hit-by-a-car pain that was there when I woke up yesterday has gone away. I would say it’s the drugs—but I’ve never been a fan of pain pills and I avoided taking any of what they’d given me.

A physical therapist arrives later and I do the hallway walk again, along with some other tests and stretches. They check my chart and look a little confused.

“You got…hit by a car yesterday?” they ask.

“It was a love tap,” I say.

They flip the page over the clipboard, then flip it back. “Says here you suffered from blunt force trauma to the torso, resulting in multiple rib fractures and contusions. That’s hardly what I’d call a love tap. I’m going to have Dr. Luna come and take a look at you.”

Dr. Luna is also surprised. “Well, there’s a noticeable decrease in swelling,” she says. “How does this feel?” She touches my side.

“A little achy,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she replies, looking perplexed. “Well, Tyler, I think what we’re going to do is take a few more X-rays, and I’m going to order another CT scan of your head.”

“Is there something wrong?” I ask.

“No, there’s no need to worry. We just want to be thorough, and given the nature of your injuries, I would expect your pain levels to be higher than they are.”

I’m taken to another room where they take scans of my body and put me through a machine. Dr. Luna leaves me in my room to go look at the results. I poke my ribs lightly. Achy. I’ve had bruised ribs before, and that felt a thousand times worse than this. Had they made some kind of mistake? No… Yesterday, it definitely was bad.

I stare at myself in the black mirror hanging on the far wall. Suddenly, I’m compelled to turn it on. It’s not because I’m bored, or because I want to watch the TV—it’s like a feeling that something is telling me Ineedto turn it on, or else I’m going to miss seeing something incredibly important. I tap the remote. It’s a commercial for some kind of male enhancement pill.

Yeah, important.

Now I’m staring at the TV, watching the mesmerizing sea of images. The volume is muted. There’s a commercial for an energy drink showing a buff, sweaty man in a toga running up a long flight of stairs to a marble temple. I sigh and reach for the remote, but before I can turn it off, Dr. Luna returns to the room. She has my file folder and an iPad tucked under her arm, and there’s something about her face that looks like she’s bringing me bad news. I squeeze the figurine in my hand.

“What did you find?” I ask. “Is my head okay?”

“Your head is perfectly fine,” she says, then flips open and stares at my chart. Behind her, the news has come onto the TV. “Everythingis fine. I’d like you to take a look at these x-rays.”