The Sound of Seas (16 page)

CHAPTER 13

F
or Caitlin, the vision had the character of a sharp, sudden relapse.

She was medically sedated and yet she was very conscious in her dreamless state. She was floating again, as she'd been in Washington Square Park. She was rootless, drifting, no point of orientation, only darkness. The image was in her mind, not in her eyes, but Caitlin knew that she was
not
dreaming. She was not hallucinating from whatever drug was pulsing through her veins because there was a solid realism to what she
did
see.

It was a ring of light. It didn't grow, it simply appeared, like a lightning bolt that erupted but did not fade. Yet the more she looked at it, she could see that it was not simply a ring: it was more like an ouroboros, a tail-devouring snake. Present in countless cultures, interpreted and reinterpreted in classic psychotherapy, a true human archetype.

Why is it here, in my mind?

She tried to ask it, but the serpentine form did not want to be accessed. The circle just floated in its own soupy white light, set against the blackness, unable to be addressed or touched . . . yet obviously willing to be seen.

Willing
, Caitlin thought suddenly. She felt—she
knew
—that the serpent had consciousness.

The light snake seemed solid so it surprised her, the more she stared, to see components within its brilliant glow. They were difficult to see, darting within the light like microbes on a slide.

The snake was similar in size to the serpent she had seen in the vision in Haiti, though that had been a darker creature in every sense of the word: black, choking, destructive. She had touched that one and was knocked back by a powerful force.

What about this one? Can I touch it?

Caitlin thought about extending a hand and suddenly she possessed one. It
was
hers, slightly luminous in the dark, aglow with . . . life? There was no bracelet on the wrist; the skin wasn't sun-bronzed. Her fingers stretched toward the light—

No!

She froze inside. It occurred to her that this might be a near-death experience and to go toward the light might mean the end of her life. But there was no retreat either. She could not turn about. And then her options lessened even further—

She was moving toward the ring, as though she were on ice and possessed frictionless, effortless motion with no way to stop. The facets within the form of the ring itself were more visible now, each comprised of writhing lines of light, with more and more lines within those. There were so many elongated particles of luminescence that she found herself becoming overwhelmed, frightened. She was afraid of being consumed, of vanishing, of being subsumed by
something
that lacked physicality but somehow had gravity.

Caitlin was jerked toward it and her eyes snapped open.

She was breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling of the hospital room. She felt warm but was not perspiring. Her breathing immediately began to slow, and her racing heart rate returned to normal. She moved her fingers and toes, could feel them all.

The experience had had every quality of a panic attack. An
uncon
scious state
panic attack. The idea was something she had never even encountered in the literature.

Caitlin heard the instruments humming around her, adjusted to the strangely unexpected presence of substance, of weight, of material things. She looked to the right, over the rails alongside the bed. The door was shut. The chair was empty. Her mother was probably in the commissary or else on the phone. Perhaps she was taking a nap somewhere. No doubt she had been told that her daughter would sleep for hours more.

Caitlin looked at her arm. The IV drip in her hand was giving infusion therapy, probably a cocktail that included a sedative. She had to stop the flow. She hesitated; there was an occlusion alarm.

Just get the damn thing out
, she told herself.

She removed the tape from just below the knuckles of her left hand, jerked out the needle, and jabbed it in her pillow so the formula would continue to flow. The alarm barely had time to chirp. There was no immediate response from the staff. She did not want to sleep or be examined. No nurse, no doctor could find what was wrong with her.

No doctor . . . in
this
era
, she thought suddenly, strangely.

And they would miss what was very right with her: that she was somehow, miraculously, present again in the real world after having spent waking time in Galderkhaan.

Caitlin looked around. There was no window, no clock; she had no idea what time it was. What about her clothes, her belongings? When she had gone down in Washington Square Park she only had what she was wearing and her phone. She looked at the nightstand, didn't see her phone, saw a small closet. That was to be her first destination.

She snickered—at herself, at the irony of the metaphysical world in which she had been spending so much time. She could travel millennia by pointing two fingers at the ground. She could go God knows where in an unconscious vision. Could she cover two yards in a hospital room without falling?

Caitlin tried to sit by sliding up a little on the bed. She used her elbows for propulsion, moved just a careful few inches and her head responded with a swirl of dark light and a painful jolt. She stopped. She put her tongue against the roof of her mouth to prevent herself from hyperventilating and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes.

Do it slowly, dammit
.

This time she placed her palms on the bars and moved back tentatively. Her head swam, but only a little. She waited a moment, moved back a little more. She managed to get herself into an upright sitting position. She waited there, then felt for the latch to release “the cage.” She found it, pressed, and lowered the aluminum side so it wouldn't clang on the mattress frame. She just now noticed that she was wearing her own pajamas.

Mom
, she thought sweetly.

Caitlin allowed herself another moment. She felt like Jacob must feel when he played games on his bed, especially with the lights out, hoping she didn't hear. As she thought of him a smile briefly turned her mouth; it was followed by a choke. If any boy on the planet could get his footing in Galderkhaan, it was little Captain Nemo himself. Still, she had to get to him and pushed, again, on the sturdy mattress.

As Caitlin slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, the door opened and a visibly tired Nancy O'Hara shuffled in carrying a plastic tray from the commissary. The woman froze when she saw her daughter. Caitlin was just beginning to pull off the pajamas Nancy had brought.

“What are you doing?” the older woman demanded.

“I've got to get out of here.”

Nancy turned to look down the hall. “I'm calling the doctor.”

“Mother,
no
—don't!” Caitlin said.

“You're only half-awake, you don't know what you're doing!”

“I
do
know, just—
please
. Listen to me.”

Nancy half turned back into the room. She scowled. “You took the IV out of your hand!” she said, just noticing. “Caitlin, I'm getting him now.”

“I did do that, but you have to
listen
!” Caitlin said. “I truly know what I'm doing.”

“How can you?” Nancy asked. “You've been drugged! Before that, you were unconscious in a park.”

“Mom, just come in, shut the door, and let's talk.”

“Why? So you can convince me to let you do something you shouldn't be doing? I won't allow it.”

“Okay, fine,” Caitlin said, holding up her hands. She pulled back on her pajama top. “I don't want to stress you. I appreciate you being here. I assume Dad is with Jacob?”

Nancy nodded, calming slightly. “Your friend Anita is there too, resting.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin said. “I don't know where my clothes are, anyway.”

Nancy softened further. “On a tray under the bed and they're a disaster,” she said.

Caitlin sat there looking at her mother. “You know, you wouldn't believe from me, from my clothes, that the last few weeks have actually been pretty astonishing. How is Jacob?”

“All right,” Nancy said. “He's resting too.”

“What time is it? What
day
is it?”

“Tomorrow for you, about four o'clock.” She added, “In the afternoon.” Her expression continued to lose its edge as she came forward. “Caitlin, what happened? Did you have some kind of seizure?”

“Is that what the doctors said?”

“They don't know what to think, exactly.”

“I'm not surprised. It was more like a hypnotic episode—it's a long story but there's nothing wrong with me. Nothing physical. Nothing I need to be
here
for.”

“Ohhhh . . . I know what you're doing, Caitlin.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I wouldn't let you out angry so you're trying to smooch me up. It won't work. You're going to let Dr. Yang decide what should be done, and that includes when you leave.”

“He doesn't know me and I don't know him,” Caitlin protested.

“You don't know everything,” Nancy said.

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Yang actually knows about your work,” Nancy said with a hint of pride. “He says he's read the articles you wrote in the
Journal of Pediatric Health Care
about children and the trauma of tribal warfare.”

Caitlin's defiance, which had been threatening to resurface, deflated just a little. “Mother, I'm flattered and touched and I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm truly not. But you have to trust me to handle my own trauma.”

“You take too many chances, Caitlin.”

“Honestly, Mom? I've already taken them. Right now I'm only trying to clean up the loose ends.”

“Does this have to do with all those trips you took recently?” Nancy asked. “To Haiti, to Iran of all places . . . ?”

“They're part of it. Couldn't be helped.”

Nancy shook her head. “You're so impatient. Impatient to
know
and to know
now
. You always have been.”

“Not like my steady, ready sister.”

“I'm not
comparing
you,” Nancy insisted.

“Sure you are. You just ticked off the two big things that Abby is not.”

“Abby has her flaws,” Nancy said. “You have a very open mind. She's Ms. Know-it-All.”

Nancy was right about that. Caitlin kept her mouth shut and looked down. She began moving her fingers a little, extending them down, then out, trying to find the tile or the point in the past from which she had departed. It was gone. All of it.

Nancy did not notice what her daughter was doing. She moved toward Caitlin and began to sob a little as she approached.

“I
did
speak with Abby on the way in,” Nancy said.

“Ah.”

“She told me not to let you do exactly what you're doing—take charge of your own health care. She meant it with love and concern.”

“I'm sure that's how she meant it,” Caitlin replied. She looked up. Her mother seemed very, very tired. Caitlin felt guilty about that, but also grateful. Whether it was running off to disasters around the globe or being a single mother, she did challenge her mother's traditional beliefs over and over, especially compared to her very traditional younger sister, a surgeon who was married with two children and living in Santa Monica.

Nancy nodded and wiped her eyes with a finger. “I'm sorry, but we were asleep and got a call from your friend Ben that something had happened to you—he didn't say what, only that you were in the hospital. It wasn't until we got here that I was able to talk to someone who would understand.”

“I'm so sorry for that,” Caitlin said quietly.

“Forgive me if I'm trying to keep you with us,
safe
. Not just for your father and me but for your son.”

“I know.”

“What—
what
were you doing in the park at that hour? Had you gone to see a patient? Were you on a date?”

Caitlin couldn't help but smile at that. Her mother had actually sounded hopeful. “Not exactly.”

“I remember that boy—man, I mean. Ben. He was with you last night—”

“Ships passing,” Caitlin said.

“Just last night, you mean?”

“I don't know,” Caitlin answered honestly. “Listen, we can talk about this later, Mom, okay? I don't mean to take charge, but my brain is starting to function clearly again and there are a few things I have to know. I'm at Lenox Hill, right?”

Nancy nodded once.

“Okay—you said Jacob is sleeping. Do you know for how long?”

“Since early this morning, according to Anita,” Nancy admitted,
sniffling briefly but stopping herself. “Is he involved in whatever is going on?”

“He is, which, frankly, is why I have to get out of here.”

Nancy tried, and failed, to stifle a little gasp.

“Mom, just hear me out. The trance that hit me in the park? He got caught by some of it as well—”

“How is that possible? What were you doing?”

“Helping patients, and I succeeded. Please—let me ask the questions? They're really important.”

“All right.”

“You said Dad's with him. And Anita. What about Ben? My . . . my friend.”

“No. But he's been checking in all day, with both of us.”

Caitlin quietly thanked Anita, her father, Ben, and God, in that order. The last—coming from an agnostic—indicated to Caitlin just how far her spirituality had evolved in a very short time.

“Did Anita say anything about Jacob's condition?” Caitlin asked.

“She said that his vitals were fine and we agreed, ultimately, that you wouldn't want him to go to the hospital. Your father wasn't happy with that, but she said that she's a doctor and had seen this before.”