With a massive bruise on my face, I was allowed to ride with my husband to the nearest hospital. One of the paramedics offered me some ice, but their focus was on getting Josh stabilized.
I could see his vitals were very weak, but he was breathing on his own. As long as there were signs of life the EMTs would continue to fight for him. After all, they had over an hour before arriving at a hospital. (Josh could not be declared dead until he was examined by the ER staff.)
The trip was a long one, to allow Josh was taken to a military hospital where they'd have access to his medical records. We were placed in the same room, but Tomas and Christina were forced to wait outside the ER.
The doctor seemed to be in a hurry, after minimal examination (and knowledge of my husband's end-stage cancer) the elderly man and his team of residents wanted to declare my husband brain dead. The lead doctor was about to put in the order, to start the paperwork when Josh reached for the oxygen mask, all on his own.
There were audible gasps all around. A few of the residents asked what to do; restrain the patient, force the mask back on? The doctor checked my husband's vitals, placing his hand upon Josh's wrist. "Sir?" The doctor glanced at his paperwork. "Joshua Miner." He hadn't even bothered to learn my husband's name.
Josh took in soft breath as he turned his head. Eyes closed, he parted his lips, uttering a single word. "Carolina."
Since the doctor looked genuinely confused, I stepped up. "That's me. I'm his wife." I was still holding an icepack to my head but I felt recovered enough to abandon it in favor of taking a seat by my husband's side.
The medical team made space. One kindhearted resident even brought over a chair so I could sit at Josh's level. "We'll give you some alone time. A nurse will be back when we have news on the status of his admission."
"Thank you," I said, grateful for the renewed privacy. I caressed my husband's face with long gentle strokes
The door closed with a noticeable click; it was only then Josh open his eyes. "Carolina, you there?" His once blue eyes were milky, leaving me to believe he'd gone completely blind.
It was all I could do not to cry. "I'm here, babe. I'm right here." I wanted to hold him; to rock him in my arms like a child. I wanted to be the one to save him, but I wasn't the one he needed. "Tomas is waiting with Christina. He's probably talking to the doctor, and should be in soon." I had no idea if that last part was even true.
Josh shook his head, as he desperately waved his free hand. "I need you."
"Ok." Was he in search of me? Or simply in search of comfort? In truth, it didn't matter. "I'm here." I gripped his hand, cupping it between my own. He was ice cold. With tears in my eyes, I placed his fingers to my chest allowing him to feel the warmth of my body.
Josh blinked his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "I could always count on you." He went silent for what felt like an abnormally long time.
"Talk to me, baby. You can tell me anything." I just wanted to hear his voice.
What he said next would chill me to the core. "I saw you."
"You saw me?"
"In the field, in the dream; our dream." The words fell from his lips like drips from a water faucet; one by one with no rhyme or reason.
"Our dream?" I asked with a giggle. The very idea was both thrilling and frightening but not entirely a surprise. I always figured we were connected on a deeply spiritual level.
"I need you to take me back there."
"I don't know how."
"That's where you're wrong. You've always known how."
"Um, ok." I seriously didn't understand. Josh was sick, was this his mind going? Or was it just that easy? "Do you need to sleep?"
"I can't," he said in a nervous whisper. It was as if he already knew that the rest of his statement would sound completely insane. "If I sleep alone, she'll come for my soul."
"Suzanne? You can't really believe that," I said with a forced laugh. I didn't want it to be true; Suzanne was already terrifyingly powerful, the idea that she was coming for my husband's soul: that was a little too much for me to handle.
"She'll claim me the way she claimed my mother."
"Because your mother sold you to her." That made a slight amount of sense; my husband's mother sold him for drugs and now the dead drug dealer is haunting him. Yup, makes total sense. "What can I do to save you?"
"Stay by my side." Josh motioned for me to rest my head on his shoulder.
"I can do that." I made myself comfortable, resting my upper body in his bed. since it was a hospital bed there wasn't a lot of room. still, I was able to be close enough to him for skin to skin contact. I kissed his cheek, the taste of his sweaty unshaved face was like a cool ocean; calm, peaceful
With all the strength left in my broken heart I whispered in his ear. "I love you." The words echoed in my mind. Love; the emotion was so deep and profound. 'Sleep, my soldier, my angel, my love.' I closed my eyes, knowing that we were in a hospital emergency room I assumed someone would wake me in the event of an actual medical emergency. (This seemed like as good of a place as any to wage war against the forces of evil in a battle for my husband's immortal soul.)
I had hoped to awaken back in Aunt Grace's cemetery surrounded by the animal sculptures but that was not to be. Instead, my mind had taken me to a trashed desolate cabin, the kind of place you'd see off the side of the road. This was no one's home only a means of shelter for vagrants, vagabonds and drug addicts looking for a quiet place to smoke or shoot up.
The night felt warm. All around me I could hear moaning; the sounds of death, pain, and intense sexual pleasure. It was like the thrift store orgy but so much worse. This was not a place of love, and acceptance. No, on the contrary, these people (creatures stripped of their humanity) existed only for sin.
Body after body; male, female, young and old, they were all engaging in sex while shooting up drugs. Most of the figures were hidden in the shadows but one lay on display like an exhibit in a museum. The body was male, muscular and strong. His pale skin was bathed in the moonlight, drawing attention to the many white power tattoos. From where I stood, I could see various swastikas on his chest, neck and shoulders, burning crosses on his hips. There was even a Nazi eagle over his pelvis, positioned as if it was perched on his cock.
"Josh?" I touched my hand to his face. His eyes were covered with duct tape and there was a ball gag in his mouth. "Let me help you." I searched his arms and legs but to my surprise he wasn't restrained. To my shock and horror, this version of my husband chose to be there of his own free will.
A shiver went down my spine as I heard footsteps behind me. "If it makes you feel any better, Hun," said a crackly female voice, "No one is here of their own free will." The biker ghost took a seat at Josh's side. "Let's see, where's a good spot?" She examined Josh's tattooed arms in the moonlight revealing trac marks, and blown out veins among racial slurs and profanity.
Josh purred like a cat, leaning towards her touch. "Mama," the sound of his voice was deep, scratchy, like something out of a zombie movie.
"Who's my good boy?" She paced two fingers in Josh's mouth and slipped in a single pill. "You are, my baby. You are."
