She hung up on Andy. Yes it was.
31. Lost
“The superior man thinks always of virtue; the common man thinks of comfort.” — Confucius
Bright, bright. Pain. Pain like fire. Burning. Oh God.
Will opened his eyes, he was being held down, strapped down. A gag in his mouth he couldn’t spit out. The kidnappers had him. They wore white. He was so tired. His throat hurt. His head felt like a balloon. Then he remembered, they had her too. He tried to get up, he had to get up, go to her, but he was so tired, so tired.
Bright. Pain. Burning.
Who were these people? White uniforms. Chinese. He couldn’t understand what they were saying. They seemed pleased to see him. They were fussing about. They took the gag out. He nearly choked, vomited. Where was he? Who were these people? What did they want from him?
Bright. Daylight. Where am I?
Something in his hand. A voice told him to squeeze and it would make the pain go away, help him sleep. The pain was bad. That’s all he knew. He squeezed.
Where am I? Oh God.
It hurt to open his eyes. He was in a very clean room. In a bed. He needed to get up and look for her. He was late. She was lost. He tried to sit up but he was too weak. He looked at his hand, there was a syringe plunger taped to his palm. He pressed it.
This was a hospital. Why? What happened?
He could feel warmth on his face. Sunlight through a window. He opened his eyes. Tried to sit up. A horrible beeping. Like a siren. He’d go deaf. A woman came running. She made it quiet. She told him to rest. He didn’t know who she was. Not a nurse. Black suit, Chinese. She said his family were waiting. She lied. He didn’t have any family. They were all dead. He closed his eyes. There was no point being awake.
Try to wake up.
Someone was holding his hand. He didn’t know who she was. He tried to speak but the words in his head wouldn’t come to his tongue. He moved his hand and she opened her eyes and smiled. Blonde, pretty, eyes like a doll. Who was she? Why was she holding his hand? He had a terrible headache. She was crying. He wished she’d go away. He had to find someone important. Someone who was lost. He couldn’t stay here. He closed his eyes.
Awake. What the fuck happened? Who the fuck am I?
The man said he owed him a harp. He didn’t know who this man was. He closed his eyes. He remembered what a harp was. Made weird sounds. Silk and steel. He knew about grey silk dresses with crystals and pearls. He knew about steel too, but it was hard to remember.
Earlier they’d poked and prodded him, asked him questions. Doctors, that’s what they were. This was a hospital. He’d been here for a while. They kept asking him for his name. He had no idea. But he knew what a harp was and he knew about silk and steel. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t stay awake.
“Who?”
The man said, “Jesus, God, Will,” then he started shouting, “He’s awake, he spoke,” and the nurse came. The man was smiling, rubbing his eyes. He looked familiar. “Do you know who I am?”
He did know this man. Not Chinese, finally someone who wasn’t Chinese. He had a terrible headache, and it was too bright in this room. It was hard to make words come. “Why?”
“You’re in the hospital, Will. Do you know who I am?”
The man’s clothes were crushed. He had a fancy watch. What was his name?
The woman in white said, “Don’t worry. It’s a good start.” This upset the man. He walked away from the bed. He was very tall. He was familiar.
“Peter.”
The man turned, he smiled. “God, Will. It’s good to have you back.”
“Vessy.”
The man leaned over the bed, he looked worried. “You always call me Pete and I’m not Vessy anymore. My name is Peter Parker. Do you know who I am to you?”
“School.”
“Yes, we went to school together. Can you remember anything else?”