Chapter 26
Bobby Deleon just didn’t understand what this weird hospital room was all about. Where was he, anyway? Had Harvey punched him so hard he’d gotten some kind of head injury? He’d been in this place a few days now, and was getting quite worried that he was going to miss his deployment. What would everyone think of him? Sure, he felt like death warmed up, but he had been mentally preparing to go to war for many months now; it almost felt like he was being cheated of it.
And the doctor that kept coming to talk to him had a strange knack for confusing him. He didn’t understand why he kept saying strange things in her presence.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, the Star Trek door opened up with a whoosh, revealing Doctor Beeks once again.
“Good day, Mister Deleon,” she said warmly.
“Hi.” Bobby sighed, rubbing his temples. “Another check-up, ma’am?”
Doctor Beeks nodded. “I’m afraid so, Bobby.” As the door shut behind her, she went through her usual checks, using instruments that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. He had previously asked what they were, and she’d told him, but now he couldn’t remember. At least he could recognise the stethoscope when she checked his chest.
“Am I getting better?” he asked, and his body seemed to answer the question with a wave of nausea. He grabbed at his sick bag and filled it once more—with what, he had no idea, because he didn’t have anything left in his stomach, he was quite sure.
He rolled onto his back, letting the room spin in his vision.
“You haven’t gotten worse,” the doctor said, placing a cool hand on his burning forehead.
“So… that’s a ‘no?’” he said quietly.
“Sorry, Bobby,” she said, patting him on the hand. “Want me to help you get your mind off it? We can chat.”
Bobby frowned. She was going to muddle up his mind again, he was sure of it. “No thanks.” He rolled over, facing away from her.
“Is something wrong?”
“Every time you talk to me my head goes all weird,” he mumbled. “So can you please just leave me alone?”
“Is your head going weird now?” the woman asked.
“Not yet. It’s just when you start…” he scratched his head, “when you start talking about my brother.”
At his own mention of Richie, his head began to swim a little. What was wrong with him? It was a strange head rush, not like anything he’d experienced, and he’d tried a lot of drugs—wait, no I haven’t… damn, it’s starting again. I’m getting all confused.
“Remember how I told you you could have a… connection with your brother?”
“Oh, not this again,” Bobby moaned. “Richie can take a jump for all I care! Connection my ass!”
He felt the hand of the doctor on his arm, and he shrugged it off.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” she persisted. “And I have the feeling the two of you are going to need to talk things out.”
“So bring him in here and we will,” he said sulkily. “Oh wait, you can’t ’cause he’s in hiding.”
“I can’t bring him here, Bobby,” Doctor Beeks said soothingly, “but you can. Because whether you like it or not, you and he share a bond, and I think on some level you know he’s in there with you.”
“What…?” this lady was out of her mind.
But we’re all connected! Everyone is one with the universe. If you tried a few tabs you might understand, Bobby.
Shut up, Richie! Bobby blinked. I—where are you?
Here. Wherever ‘here’ is. I dunno, man. Astral plane?
Bobby wrenched his eyes closed. This wasn’t happening. He was hallucinating. It was the head injury.
“What are you doing to me, Doctor?” he asked, still not daring open his eyes. “Is this some kind of… weird experiment?”
“Uh, I’m not sure how to answer that,” Doctor Beeks said. “But talk to me. What are you experiencing right now?”
“He’s…” Richie rubbed his eyes. “I’m…” Bobby shook his head. “How is he talking to me? I don’t want…”
The doctor once again placed her hand on his arm as he shuddered.
“Talk to him, Bobby. He’s really there, I promise.”
Bobby frowned, curling up his body in the bed. “But how is he doing this?”
Who cares? Just go with the flow! This is a trip!
“You’re both doing it,” the doctor said. “And I’m here to help facilitate your communication, if need be. So whatever is going on inside, try to vocalise it. Speak out loud. That way I can help both of you.”
“This is crazy,” Richie said, grinning. “I dunno how you pulled this off, but you must have some far out ESP or somethin’, lady.”
He turned to face the doctor. “Is this a spaceship or something? Are you an alien? Marsha is gonna freak.”
“I’m just a doctor,” the woman said. “But please. Go on and talk to your brother, okay?”
Bobby’s gaze dropped and his lip snarled. “Is there even anything to say?”
“Oh, go ahead and say what you’re thinking,” Richie said, heaving a deep sigh. “You want to say I’m a coward. Betrayed my country. Et cetera. Blah blah blah.” He gestured with his hand, mimicking a puppet talking.
“Okay, yeah,” Bobby said, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly what I think.”
Richie was about to respond when the door opened, revealing the Admiral. Richie shut his mouth. He wasn’t going to talk with this guy around.
The old man met the doctor’s eye.
“Beeks, what the hell did you do?”
The woman gave him a brilliant smile. “I made a major breakthrough, Al.”
The Admiral clenched his teeth, gesturing wildly. “Well unbreak it! Ziggy can’t connect to either Sam.”
Doctor Beeks sighed. “Can it wait just a bit longer? This was quite tricky to accomplish. I have both of them talking to each other.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Seriously?” He crossed to the bed, peering down at Richie/Bobby. “You think that’s a good idea?”
The doctor nodded. “These two have issues to sort through,” she explained, “which may be integral to the leap’s success.”
Richie tilted his head, wondering what all this gobbledygook was about.
It’s none of our business, Richie.
Far out, Bobby—you really are big-time brainwashed by The Man. Free your mind!
You’re the brainwashed one, Richie. All those damn drugs, and all the same vapid hippie slogans that they all spout.
The Admiral nodded slowly. “Hmm. Okay, but don’t be too long. Sam B needs me. Just… hurry it up, okay?”
He gave her a worried look, but disappeared out the door before the doctor could respond. She turned back to the twins, who were both watching her through the same set of eyes.
“Sorry about that interruption. Please continue, gentlemen.”
* * *
Knock knock!
Sam B straightened his shirt collar and donned his best innocent look as Jenny’s door swung open.
Brenda’s girlfriend looked him up and down, and cocked her head in confusion. “Bobby? Brenda isn’t here…”
“Uh, I know,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually here to talk to you. About Brenda.”
Jenny gave him a sceptical look. “What about her?”
“Well, when she left the other day, we had a heart-to-heart, and agreed that it’s best to try and curb her alcohol consumption while she’s pregnant, to give the baby the best chance.”
Jenny nodded silently, eyes narrow.
“But of course,” Sam continued, “I’m not gonna be around to help her with the baby, nor watch her drinking. Not for a while, anyway. So I was wondering if you could be that person? Just ’til I get back.”
Assuming Bobby ever does come back.
Jenny’s demeanour shifted. “Help with her baby? And her drinking?” Her face tightened. “I have my own stuff going on… and I probably drink more than her…”
Sam let out a breath as his cheeks filled with heat. This was the last straw. Brenda didn’t have a single person that cared about her except Bobby.
“Figures. You’re there in a second when the two of you can get day-drunk and complain about men, but the moment she actually needs you, you abandon her. Some friend you are, Jenny.” He gave his head a shake and turned to leave, stepping down off the doorstep.
When Jenny didn’t respond, he glanced back to see she had moved herself behind the door and was staring at him with fearful eyes and her mouth hanging open.
Realising that he must have scared her with his outburst, he took a step back towards her, aiming to apologise, but the movement only served to scare her further, and she shut the door. The sound of it clicking locked followed, and Sam slapped a hand to his forehead.
He retreated to the car, and drove away, his stomach churning. That had been the last option—Al hadn’t provided anything else, and hadn’t even shown up this morning at all. Like Brenda, he too felt abandoned.
As he pulled up to Bobby’s house, it struck him that not only was this baby doomed, but so was he. And the only way he could think to prevent his death in Vietnam for certain was… well, not to go.
Instead of getting out of the car, he pulled it away from the house and again drove away.
Maybe there was room for one more at the commune.