The Permutation

Homeostasis (Part 4) Michelle

What a shame. She seems so nice.

When Michelle was a meager three feet from her phone, she stopped any forward progress. Her arm still moved back and forth, but it no longer had the strength to keep moving her. Before too long, the hand stopped moving also, and Michelle stared at a brick in a wall. A pattern in the brick looked like the state of Texas. To a blood-deprived mind, a state-shaped brick was possibly the most fascinating thing in the world.

The brick started to float into the air, and Michelle had a hard time tracking it. It wasn't until her head hit the pavement that she realized the brick hadn't been floating; she'd been falling. The impact didn't hurt so bad. Her hair cushioned the worst of it.

A part of Michelle's mind knew that closing her eyes would be a bad idea, but her eyelids felt so heavy. Michelle blocked out all the pain and all the thoughts of trying to get help. She needed to focus on one thing, keeping her eyes open. Michelle had always been good at staring contests, but this one was for life and death.

There was no telling how much time had passed before her vision started to blur, and her eyes began to droop. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours, but the result was the same. Red light flooded her field of vision—the sound of rapid footfalls approaching her lulled her to sleep.

An aggressive beeping woke Michelle from her slumber. She jolted upwards.

I need to find my phone.

When she had reached a sitting position, her body refused to let her stay upright. She fell back on a soft mattress and a thin pillow. The room she found herself in was a mix of creamy whites and yellows, probably market-tested to have a calming effect, but the steady beeping of a heart monitor undercut the soothing ambiance.

Wires were hooked up to her chest, and a little clamp was attached to her finger. Michelle contemplated ripping off the apparatus to announce she was awake and was ready to know what the fuck was going on.

The ghost of searing pain in her stomach reminded her. Michelle's hands rushed to her stomach, expecting blood to be still oozing from the wound, but all they touched was a white cloth bandage.

"Don't worry, dear, you're going to be right as rain," a raspy, feminine voice sounded to Michelle's right.

Michelle turned her head to see a frail woman lying on a bed. Her body seemed shriveled and hunched with age, and the fingernails of the hands clutching the top of the sheets looked nicotine-stained. As if on cue with Michelle's observation, the woman emitted a dry cough that sounded like her lungs were lined with sandpaper.

"No offense, but the word of someone who inhales a pack of cigarettes a day doesn't hold much weight for me," Michelle said, now looking for the button that would call in a doctor or a nurse.

"Fine then, don't listen to me. I just heard the doctors talking, is all. Thought you might wanna know, but ya'll already know everything," the woman rasped.

Michelle stopped her search for the remote and turned to the woman, switching gears. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's hard not to wake up a little testy when you wake up in a hospital bed."

The woman started hacking again, but the wrinkles around her eye suggested she was laughing instead of choking.

"True enough, dear, true enough. I hate this G-D place, but my grandson insisted I come in. Apparently, my lungs are about as useful as used Kleenex. They got me on the transplant list, and I haven't seen em' since, but I ain't too worried about it between you and me. They got Ellen in this joint," she said, motioning to the television mounted on the wall.

Michelle wanted to tell the woman to shut her trap and tell Michelle everything she needed to know, but that wouldn't get Michelle the information she needed.

Michelle Trick #8 - If you pretend useful information isn't valuable, it'll probably be thrown out along with everything else.

"Ellen?" Michelle asked, "I love Ellen!"

I hate Ellen.

The woman almost hacked out her lung before responding, "What's your name, love? You ain't a bad cellmate after all."

"Michelle Kim, volunteer mugging victim. You?"

"June Cheever. Pleasure," the woman said, "Pretty stupid, though."

Michelle gritted her teeth, "What do you mean?"

"I understand bein' a hero and all, but isn't that a little risky when you've got a little one on the way?"

Michelle's mouth fell, her chin almost hitting her chest, "little one?"

"Yeah, that's what the doctor was saying. That it was a real close thing there for a minute, and if the baby had been a little bigger, the knife probably woulda gutted it. He said you both were fortunate, and you should sign up for the lotto."

"My baby?" Michelle asked again, not fully comprehending.

"Yeah, your baby. Are you even listening?"

Oh, of course, my baby.