The door to the hallway was mostly closed, but enough light came into the room for Aaron to see light glinting on the blade of a long dagger. A dagger that happened to be plunging right for his chest.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered.
Aaron rolled towards the knife, pushing with his feet so he scooted back on the bed and putting most of his weight on one shoulder. The blade sank into the mattress with a soft hiss, missing him by less than an inch.
He reversed direction, rolling across his back. His legs came off the bed and let his momentum spin him until he was half-crouched beside the bed, facing his attacker. It was, unsurprisingly, the new patient. The very same man he’d felt had been watching him, who’d snuck into his room when he dozed off earlier, and who he’d seen hidden by some kind of strange haze.
The would-be assassin got a lot less attention from Aaron than the knife in his hands, which was a long dagger with an oddly discolored blade. Less attention wasn’t no attention, however. The intruder stepped onto the bed with one foot, bent at the knee, and lunged like a fencer, the blade thrusting for Aaron once more.
Need to get in close, Aaron realized, more as an idea than a fully-formed thought.
His hands came up to a defensive position and he stepped onto the bed himself, moving at an angle to avoid the knife. The assassin backed away, taking a swipe with the blade at Aaron’s side. He managed to block with a forearm, but the stranger was quick on his feet and got some distance between them.
They danced over and around the bed like that for a few seconds, exchanging places or keeping distance, trying to strike with the knife or avoid it. The assassin was fast — fast as hell — but Aaron was managing to keep up with him. That was as much a surprise to Aaron as it was to anyone, but he wasn’t going to complain about it.
Speed favored skill, which was to Aaron’s disadvantage in this fight. He couldn’t trust in his theoretical resilience against a knife that clearly wasn’t normal. That meant relying on his strength. Thankfully, he had some practice at that. He just had to hope the assassin couldn’t match him on that front.
Unbidden, a thought formed in Aaron’s mind in response to that idea: The last guy couldn’t, not until-
The thought broke off suddenly. Not until what? And what last guy? Had there been a last guy? Aaron shook his head, pushing the distraction away. He could deal with confusing, conflicted thoughts about someone attacking him before after he survived someone attacking him now.
Now that he’d made the decision to focus, another thought barged in, unwelcome and irrelevant.
I hope I don’t wake my roommate, his brain offered.
What the hell, brain? his brain also responded.
Aaron hopped back from another swipe of the assassin’s blade. He was moving them away from their dance around the bed, towards the rear wall of the room. The stranger had to stay on the offensive, giving Aaron some control over where their fight happened. And he had plans for that wall.
There were half a dozen more slashes from the assassin before Aaron got the opening he wanted. It was a good thing, because he didn’t know how long he could keep avoiding the flashing blade. Finally, though, the stranger thrust the blade forward, looking to pierce Aaron’s body instead of slashing him.
Aaron grabbed the stranger’s wrist with one hand, the back of his head with the other. Then he twisted his entire body, slamming the assassin face-first into the thick cement blocks of the hospital wall. There was a satisfying crunch, blood splattered against the wall, and the assassin crumpled in a heap on the rough carpet.
Aaron kept hold of his wrist and relieved him of the knife. The man’s face was a bloody mess, but everything seemed to be in the right place, more or less. A flash of another man’s face — this one choking on blood — flashed into Aaron’s mind, but he pushed it away. Time to think about whatever the hell that was after he survived the weekend.
Just as he was about to check the assassin for a pulse, he heard a flush followed by the clatter of thin wooden slats.
Ah… shit, he thought.
Aaron’s roommate in the psychiatric hospital — an immense black man with a booming voice who fancied himself to be God — stepped out of the bathroom and took in the scene.
“I hope that wasn’t because he didn’t wash his hands,” the giant said with a chuckle, wiggling his fingers.
With no idea what to say in response to that, Aaron opted to check his would-be killer’s neck for a pulse. It was there, steady and strong, which was more than a little bit of a relief. He walked over to the dresser with his clothes as the big man crossed the room to kneel down beside the unconscious stranger.
“An assassin, huh?” his roommate said while Aaron hid the dagger between a pair of his pants in one of the dresser drawers. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t lend a hand, they were a little full. Besides, I mostly help those who help themselves.”
The temptation to roll his eyes was strong, but Aaron resisted. The big man was a very big man, after all, and he also knew Aaron had a knife hidden in his pants. He wasn’t going to laugh at the “I was holding my dick” joke, but he’d refrain from any form of sarcasm, even nonverbal. Plus, he’d had a very similar thought about God helping those who helped themselves not so long ago. His roommate probably wasn’t a deity of any sort, but it was weird to hear your own thoughts echoed back at you, unprompted.
“Now, I’m not trying to tell you your business,” the big man continued, “but an unconscious fella with a busted nose and blood on the wall is liable to get us both in trouble with the orderlies. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like losing dessert privileges. So I say we haul this ruffian back to his room, clean up the wall, and let him come to on his own time.”
“I appreciate the help, uh… I’m not really sure what to call you. Is your name Iam?”
“Ee-yum? Like Ian with an M?” the big man replied. “No. What would make you think that?”
“The jersey you were wearing early, that was the name on the back.”
The big man laughed. “It’s a long i. Got the same name twice, first and last. Middle name is That.”
It took Aaron a second to parse that explanation and when he did he stopped himself from rolling his eyes once more. He couldn’t completely contain his sarcasm, however.
“So… you’re saying your name is ‘I am That I am’? That’s a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?” he asked.
“A little formal. People don’t call me that too often.”
“So what should I call you?”
“Like I said earlier, I don’t worry over formality much. You can call me the name that’s on my driver’s license, if it suits you. Elroy; Elroy L. Olam.”
Elroy — apparently — took a step towards Aaron and offered his hand. Aaron took it and they shook.
“Aaron,” he said. “So, my thinking is we sneak this guy back to his room and clean his blood off the wall. Chances are I’ll be getting picked up before he wakes up, so that should work out fine, time-wise. The two problems I’m seeing are keeping an eye out for anyone coming from the nurse’s station and figuring out which room he’s in.”
“They just did rounds before I went pee, so we have time, and he’s in the last room across the hall,” Elroy said.
“Alright, then I’ll sneak him back to bed and if you’ll keep a watch in the hall.”
Elroy looked Aaron up and down. “You sure you want to carry him by yourself?”
“You’re God, right? You should know I’m stronger than I look,” Aaron said, squatting down to heft the unconscious assassin over his shoulders.
As he was standing back up, a thought occurred to Aaron and he winced inwardly. First rule of sudden superpowers, Aaron: don’t advertise that you’ve suddenly got superpowers. You’re just lucky this little feat of strength isn’t super-obvious.
“Don’t worry,” Elroy told him as they got near the door. “Everything’ll work out fine. After all, God’s on your side.”
The giant winked then casually stepped out into the wall, raising his arms over his head in a stretch. Aaron saw the subtle wave of a hand that told him he was clear to go and moved quickly through the hall with his passenger.
Aaron was grateful he’d packed plenty of socks. His cotton-clad feet made much less noise on the heavy carpets of the hospital than the plastic-lined things — what Elroy had referred to as ‘grippy socks’ — many of the other patients wore. He was in and out of the other room with barely any noise. The assassin’s roommate remained blissfully unaware and deeply asleep.
The two men were back in their room, seated on their beds, just a couple minutes later. Aaron had sacrificed one of his shirts to wipe up most of the blood on the wall and the sanitary hand wipes in the bathroom had taken care of the last traces.
“Thanks,” Aaron said to the big man.
Elroy waved the gratitude away. “No need to say Grace, no need to offer thanks. The first and most important thing is that we be kind to one another, even when it involves weird shit like assassins in a psych ward.”
After a few seconds of (mostly) comfortable silence, Elroy spoke up. “You have questions.”
“So many questions,” Aaron said.
“Should I take that as a sign you’ve become a believer?”
“Hell no,” Aaron laughed. “I mean, I’m agnostic at best, but I believe you believe in yourself and I am absolutely fascinated to hear your perspective on any number of things.”
Elroy sighed. “Maybe, someday, we can sit down and have a discussion about the whys and wherefores. I travel a lot, so you never know where I’ll turn up.”
“It’s not like we have anything else to do,” Aaron observed.
With an enigmatic smile, Elroy lay back down on his bed. A moment later, an orderly stepped into the room.
“Mr. Abrams?” the orderly asked.
“That’s me.”
“Hey, Dave,” Elroy said, with a wave.
“Hey there, The Lord,” Dave the orderly replied as he came further into the room, carrying Aaron’s bag. “Mr. Abrams, your doctor is here and it looks like he’ll be taking you home tonight. If you pack up your things, we can go get the rest at the nurse’s station.”
Aaron blinked a few times. The doctor was almost certainly Barrett, but assumptions were dangerous. He packed his things into the bag and made sure to slip the knife in a side pocket, blocking the bag from view with his body as he did and leaving it partly unzipped so he could get into it quickly. He stopped after he slid the bloody shirt into the same pocket to cover the handle and turned back to his roommate.
“I wanted to thank you again,” he said. “It meant a lot, the way you stepped up for me.”
Elroy waved a big hand dismissively and blew air through his lips. “Pfft. If you’re feeling particularly grateful, pass along the kindness to someone else in need. Then just keep on doing it.”
Aaron nodded and threw the last of his things into his bag, waving goodbye to Elroy as he followed the orderly out to the nurse’s station. Barrett was there in his handsome suit, beaming at Aaron and evoking a familiar sense of déjà vu. Beside him was a red-haired woman in a form-fitting pantsuit. She was, perhaps, the most attractive human being Aaron had ever seen.
You’re only adding a ‘perhaps’ in there so you don’t feel childish, he told himself. She’s, like, movie star hot. Implausibly hot.
A low whistle came from behind Aaron and he turned to see Elroy, ostentatiously lurking in the hallway. “Now that’s a woman,” he said, wiggling his fingers at the redhead.
The woman smiled at Elroy impishly and the big man pretended to swoon against the wall, draping one massive arm dramatically across his brow and clutching at his chest with the other. Dave went to shoo Elroy back to his room while Aaron collected the plastic bags with the rest of his things from the nurse’s station.
Barrett clapped a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and said, “I’m so glad we could get here so quickly, but let’s get you home.”
Aaron wasn’t sure where home was going to wind up being — almost certainly not his apartment, which probably wasn’t safe — but he was looking forward to finding out. More than that, he was looking at the promise of finding out more about this mysterious heritage, the power that came with it, and all that it would entail. Wherever they went, it should turn out to be a hell of a trip.
