Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (2 page)

“Anja Evans
.
”
I stuck out my hand by force of habit and after a moment’s hesitation, he shook it.  I was struck by how warm his hand was, but I didn’t feel uncomfortably cold.  Any difference in temperature was probably from my lying in the chilly morgue for an hour without my socks on. 

“Nice to meet you, Anja.”  He pronounced my name correctly that time.  “Sit tight, I’m sure there are a lot of people who want to talk to you.”  Straightening, he turned back to where Dave sat at the computer.  “
I’m going to need to make some calls and my signal’s for
shit
.  D
o you have a phone I can use?
”

“
Oh yeah, there’s never any signal down here.
  Feel free to use this line here, dial nine to get out.  I should really get a doctor down here to examine her, or I wonder if I should take her up to the ED myself…”

A lot of people who wanted to talk to me.  Cool beans.  And lots of doctors poking and prodding me as well.  Even better. 
My eyes flicked to the swinging door beside me, the urge to flee growing stronger and stronger
,
until I lurched out of the chair and out the door with a soft rush of air.  Once I was on the move, it seemed a simple thing to keep going.  Objects in motion are easier to stay in
motion, or something like that
.
I’ve never been particularly good at physics, no
matt
er what you
may have
heard. 

I’d always had the stigma of being kind of a book nerd.  It’s cliché, but maybe it had something to do with the braces and glasses I wore all through high school.  Okay, so looking back I can admit it had more than a little to do with button down shirts and skirts that didn’t rise above the knee, but my parents were really strict while I was growing up.  Even three years out of high school, I
still had
trouble coming out of my shell
,
as my sister Hanna liked to call it.  Or pulling the stick out of my… behind (I’m paraphrasing)
,
as Bridget liked to say a bit more colorfully.

While the braces were long gone
,
the glasses remained, but I liked to think I didn’t look all that different from any other student at
the Central Coast Academy of Fine Arts
.  When I wasn’t
wandering through the bowels of the hospital
wearing a torn, bloody rag, that was.

The need to get away from the morgue propelled me forward
,
I thought it was adrenaline lending me swiftness at the time.  The earlier stiffness was completely gone,
no trace of the paralysis, though I still felt off my game.  Every second that drew me farther away, I expected to hear my name called from behind, or even a ‘stop that girl!’ yelled after me.  But I didn’t run into a soul on my way to the wide elevator at the end of the hallway.  As the doors slid shut, so did my eyes, and I allowed myself a brief moment to catch my breath and give thanks to the gods above for not only allowing me to get away, but for sparing me from whatever near-death experience I’d narrowly escaped.

As conspicuous as I felt in my bare feet and ruined dress on the ground floor, it was nothing compared to the flare of embarrassment that went through me when someone joined me in the elevator. 
A little wisp of a man, close to my height
,
peered at me from behind oversized glasses.  Dressed in blue scrubs, he could have been anything from laundry staff to a neurosurgeon to my untrained eyes. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, more than a little concerned by my appearance.

“Yes, of course. 
This isn’t my blood,” I waved off the concern.  Come to think o
f
it, I wasn’t in any pain.  What had the guy said back in the morgue… tissue damage at the neck?  My neck felt fine.  Surreptitiously
,
my hand snaked up to probe at my neck and felt nothing but smooth skin.  “
It’s ah… it was a costume party that got a little out of hand.  You know how it is.”  I gave him my best smile and crazily enough, he bought it.

“I remember those days,” he smiled wistfully.  The doors opened on the second floor then and he held them open for me.  “Getting off?”  There was definitely a light of hope in his eyes.  What kind of a weirdo wanted to flirt with a barefoot, bloody wreck of a girl in the middle of the night in a hospital? 

“Sorry, not my floor.”  I pushed the button for the third floor, stepping back with a faint smile as he shuffled off. 
What I wouldn’t give for a mirror…
  Self consciously
,
I pushed the hair out of my eyes and realized for the first time I wasn’t wearing m
y glasses
. 

I
wasn’t
blind by any means; I c
ould
tell the difference between a tube of toothpaste and a tube of anti-itch cream, but I had trouble whenever reading was involved.  Normally when I forg
o
t to put my glasses on, after a few minutes I
’d
get a light headache until I put them back on again
, b
ut I’d been walking around
the hospital just
fine without them. 

Looking at the numbers on the elevator buttons, they were sharp and distinct
.  I
could clearly read the
posted
weight limit and even the elevator permit behind grubby plastic. 
Maybe it was one of those things where you g
o
t hit on the head and
it changed
your eyesight?  Only I didn’t think I’d hit my head, and
since when did the Flintstones logic work anyway? 
The night kept getting weirder and weirder. 

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out onto the deserted hallway. 
I knew
my roommate Bridget
worked nights up on the third floor in long term care as a ward assistant (a glorified name for an orderly, but I’d learned long ago she didn’t particularly
appreciate that
label
),
and I
hoped
it wouldn’t be too hard to find her without attracting more attention.  Luckily
,
I didn’t meet a soul
,
and I spotted her standing at the nurse’s station, head bobbing to
Linkin
Park
blaring from her earbuds.

You’d never think someone like Bridget and I would be friends from looking at us.  Maybe that makes me a little judgmental of appearances, but you have to admit, most people do make snap decisions based on looks. 
Paired with her maroon scrubs, she wore chunky, black combat boots that flopped open at the top,
a score of black rubber bracelets like Madonna used to wear back in the eighties, and at least three chunky silver necklaces.  H
er da
rk hair was plaited into thick
braids that hung down her back
, revealing the top of the tattoo on her neck
. 
I’ve always wanted
one
, but I could never picture myself as a grandmother with a tattoo.  Who wants to see a cool design get saggy
,
old
,
and faded as you age? 

Bridge
t
didn’t know how to do subtle with makeup
,
and I could see the heavy dark eyeliner on her eyelids and deep red ‘vixen’ lips from a mile away.  It was a little surprising the hospital didn’t care how she altered the dress code to suit her tastes, but when you worked the graveyard shift, things were more lax
,
I
supposed
. 

I guess you could say
I
’ve always been
a little bit classical and she
was
a little bit rock and roll.  Not that I didn’t want to be rock and roll myself… I d
id
like rock
music
,
I just hadn’t had much opportunity to pursue that kind of lifestyle, not even in college. 
But at least I knew who
Linkin
Park
was.
I should get points for that, right? 

Making a beeline for the nurse’s desk, I was gratified to find it deserted
,
except for the two of us
.  T
he entire floor was silent, but for the soft drone and beeps of equipment in the background. 
Her head bobbed to the music, casually flipping through a magazine on the
counter,
completely unaware of my approach until I touched her elbow and she jumped a foot. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” she gasped, hand
flying to cover her heart
.  I could practically hear it beating too, thump, thump, thump, it was almost hypnotic.  “Hello?  Earth to Anja…”
Sh
e waggled her fingers in front of my face, and I snapped out of it.   

“Oh, sorry.  I was just… I’m having the weirdest night.”  Talk about an understatement.  Now that I’d found her, I wasn’t sure where to begin.  It was obvious she had no idea I’d been down in the morgue
.  H
opefully that meant my family was blissfully unaware of th
e
fact as well. 

“Ah, i
t’s a lit
tle early for Halloween isn’
t it?
  What’s with the ensemble?”
H
er fingers waved again in the general direction of my outfit. 

“
T
hat is the
l
east of my worries right now. 
Do you think we could sit down and talk for a bit?
” 
I could see the
aversion
on her
face
.  M
aybe she thought I was having boyfriend troubles.  Bridget
wa
sn’t big on heart to hearts
. 
“
Please?
  It’s important.”

“
Fine
, y
ou don’t have to be so dramatic
,”
she rolled her eyes, slouching against the counter.

My eyes darted up and down the length of the corridor.  “
Can we talk somewhere more private?
” 
Anyone could come along and spot me at any moment
and I
still dreaded
the questions that would come with it until I had more answers myself.

A
nother
roll of the e
y
e
s was given, but she led me
in
to
a
patient’s room. 
“
Is this good enough for you?
”

I looked at the old man occupying the bed, his eyes watching us with vague interest. 
“
What about him?
”

“
Oh
,
don’t worry about
him
,
he’s deaf as a post.
”

“But won’t we keep him awake?”  The idea of barging into his room didn’t sit well with me.

“Old people don’t sleep,” she scoffed as if it was a well known fact.  “
Hi
,
Mr. Gutterman!
”
she yelled. 
“
Just ignore us, we’re having a little girl talk, okay?
” s
he nodded and flashed him
a
thumbs up sign.  The old man gave no indication he’d heard a single thing she said and Bridget turned her back on him. 
“
See, we’re fine.
  So spill, what’s so important it’s got you out of bed past ten o’clock?”

My tongue darted out to moisten my lips.  “
I think… I think I died.
”

Chapter
Two

“You died,” she deadpanned
.  N
ot exactly the reaction I’d been looking for, or
any reaction at all really.  “What, at home?”

“No
…
maybe… I’m not sure.  All I know is, I woke up in the morgue, dressed like this.”

“My morgue, downstairs?”  That seemed to personalize it for her
,
and I nodded.

“No shit!  When did that happen?  Are you gonna sue the hospital?  Oh, if you do, name that dickwad Simpson, I
hate
that guy.”  Her eyes alight with avarice, I could tell she was already mentally spending my settlement money and anticipating sweet revenge against the hated doctor.   

“
I don’t even know who that is…
”
M
y brows drew together as I tried to get her back on track.  “
Bridge
,
you’re missing the point. 
I don’t know how I got there or why I look like this.”

“Well, what did you do after I left for work?  I told you not to shop for dates on Craig’s
L
ist,” she teased.  We both knew I hadn’t dated since breaking up with
Trent
.  Since we’d both broken up with
Trent
, actually.  It’s a long story.

“
Very f
unny.” I wasn’t as amused as she was.  “I went to bed
alone
, and the next thing I knew I was here
like this
, that’s it, I swear. 
They said I
was
pronounced dead over an hour ago.”

“Damn, I can see how that would wig you out,” she conceded and I was glad to be finally getting through to her.  Bridget ha
d
a good heart
,
she
just wasn’t
always the most sympathetic of ears
.  “I wonder what this is all about?”  Her fingers reached out to lightly trace over one of the heavy pins holding up
the
dress.  “
This is cool, I’m gonna borrow it sometime, okay?
” 

That was a
first
,
she’d never asked to borrow anything of mine before. 
It was kind of cool, but if it brought bloody deaths and trips to the morgue
,
it wasn’t worth it in my books. 
“
Can we maybe focus less on the jewelry and more on the whole dead thing?
”
 

“It’s Norse.”
Mr. Gutterman
sounded raspy, as though there was too much air passing through in ratio to his voice.

“What’s that, Mr. G?” Bridget asked
as
we both approached the bed.

“I thought you said he was deaf?”

“I lip read,” he shrugged thin shoulders.  “I said it’s Norse, the jewelry, the clothes.  Old Norse to be exact.”

“You mean like the Vikings?” My brows rose in surprise. 

“Yes, exactly.  My mother was
Norwegian
.  S
he had a brooch very similar to that one.  I remember she took me to a festival when I was a little boy.  There were many dressed as you are today.  I remember…”

“That’s nice
,
Mr. G
, b
ut we’re having a private conversation, okay?”  Bridget turned her back on him again, but I wasn’t in such a hurry to brush him off. 

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Fine, but I warned you.”   

At first I chalked it up to her brusque manner, but after a couple of minutes I realized she was trying to save me from dying of boredom.  Mr. Gutterman’s walk down memory lane took a lot of twists and turns, and we doubled back a few times.  By the time we got to the end of the road I wasn’t in possession of many more facts beyond what we started with.  The clothes and jewelry seemed to be Norse in design, and that was about it.  Afte
r a while he talked himself out
and lapsed into silence, snoring softly. 

“Told ya,” she grinned, eyes flashing playfully.

“Next time I’ll listen,” I returned her smile, scooting away from his bed.  “Anyway, the guy down in the morgue freaked out when I woke up, and there was someone there from the coroner’s office I think, they wanted to ask me a bunch of questions, and I sort of…”

“
Bolted
?”

“I didn’t mean to.  I know it was the wrong thing to do, but the door was right there, and I was still reeling from waking up like that
.  S
o
,
I took off and came here to
find
you.”

“What do you think
I
can do?  I’m not a doctor.”  There was open scorn in her voice, not directed at me
;
her opinion of doctors wasn’t high.  I have often questioned why she chose to work in the medical profession
with such a bias
, but she usually
just
swore and changed the subject
.  It was her way, and I’d long ago stopped taking offense over it. 

“No, I know you’re not a doctor
,
for Pete’s sake.  I’m in a
hospital
.  T
here are doctors on every other floor if I wanted one.  I came to you to help me figure out what to do next.  Why, do you think I should see a doctor?”

“What for?  Aren’t they the ones that put you in the morgue in the first place?”
S
he seemed skeptical.  “What are you in for?”

“They said I died from blood loss and tissue damage on the neck.”  My hand automatically rose to touch my neck. 

Her eyes widened enormously.  “
Shut up
,
are you kidding me right now?
”

“No, I’m not kidding, why?” I blinked, not catching what she’d keyed in on.

“Come here, I wanna see something.”  Dragging m
e
by the arm, she led me to the bathroom, snapping on the harsh, fluorescent lights.  My other arm rose protectively
to shield my eyes
from the bright light
as she pulled me in front of the sink. 

“What are you looking for?”
I asked when she stared
in dismay at our reflections in the mirror.  “
Blecch
, I look awful
,
” I scowled at myself, taking in the dried blood
crusted
in the underside of my hair. 

“I can see you,” she sighed
dejectedly
.

“Ye
s
, and I look awful.”
  The artificial light made my skin
sallow
, and there were dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. 

“I guess you’re not a vampire then
.
”

“Was that a concern?” I laughed, more than a little amused at her expression in the mirror.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me that’s not what you were thinking too.  Blood loss… neck trauma… it’s got vampire attack written all over it.”

“
Okay,
A - I
don’t believe in vampires
.  B,
I’m pretty sure you have to drink their blood to turn into one
.  A
nd
C,
it depends on the reality you’re going for, some vampires have a reflection the same as anybody else.”

“
Yeah
, that kind of sounds like you believe in vampires,” she snickered
,
and I admit, I ha
ve
read
my fair share of vampire novels.  I even had friends who liked to dres
s up and play v
ampire games once a month on the full moon.  I tried to point out once that the full moon didn’t have any bearing on vampire lore, but they ignored me. 
“Maybe you did drink a vampire’s blood and don’t remember it?” She tried to force my mouth open and I slapped her hand away a little harder than I meant to.

“
Eewh
, I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing I would remember.”

“Why?  You didn’t remember playing dress up with a Viking stalker.”
She nursed her hand close to her body. 

Bridget
had a point, but it was one I didn’t feel like acknowledging yet
, so I changed the subject
.  “
Do you think you can get me something to change into?
  This dress is making me itch, and I’m probably likely to attract less attention if I’m not dressed like a zombie.” 

“Yeah, no prob,” she agreed readily enough.  “I’ll be right back.”

While she was gone, I took the opportunity to study myself a little closer in the mirror.  I wasn’t used to seeing myself so clearly in the mirror without my glasses, especially when I looked like hell.  Sure enough, other than being a little crusty, my neck showed no sign of trauma at all.  Could there have been
a
mistake?  Were my records switched with Jane Doe number six?  I filched one of Mr. Gutterman’s hand towels and swabbed off my neck and hair the best I could, the bloody water grossing me out a little as it ran down the drain. 

Bridget barged in a few minutes later with another set of scrubs, identical to the ones she wore.  I tried not to think about the fact that I wasn’t wearing any under
wear
under the costume
,
that was too creepy to dwell on. 
While I was at it, I decided to wash my face and
I felt better afterwards.  Dressed like any other worker in the hospital, I felt almost human again.

“Cool, you look like you could pass for the rest of my shift.  How about you take over and I sneak out for a smoke?” she teased as soon as I emerged from Mr. Gutterman’s room.

I ignored the question, never thinking for a moment she was serious, though her job didn’t seem all that complicated.  “Is it always this quiet here?”

“Usually, unless one of the monitors goes off.  For the most part it’s making sure nobody dies and everybody takes their medicine on time.  The real nurses make their rounds mid-shift, other than that I’m pretty much on my own up here until break times.”

“Do you think I could hang out with you for the rest of your shift?”  I steeled myself for the roll of the eyes or the snort I expected from her
.  I
nstead she looked at me, really looked at me for once.

“Are you afraid to go home?”
 
There wasn’t a trace of
laughter
or judgment in her tone, it sounded like she really wanted to know. 

“Well, kind
of
.  I mean that’s the last thing I remember, being at home.  Whatever happened to me, that’s where it started.”

“Why don’t you talk to the cops then?  Have them come over and check the place out, make sure it’s safe?”

I
wasn’t s
ure why, but that sounded like a bad idea.  I’d never been afraid of the police before, I’d been raised to believe you went to them for help, but something kept me from wanting to involve them. 
I could have called my sister, but I didn’t want to drag her out of bed in the middle of the night either. 

“I’m sure they’ll track me down at some point, they had my name after all.  But I can’t deal with that tonight.  Couldn’t I stay here with you?  I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.  I’ll even help out if you want.  I can pass out water cups with the best of them,” I smiled entreatingly. 
I was pretty sure she was about to shoot me down with a cutting remark when she did something almost unheard of.  Bridge
t
volunteered for secret option number three without being asked.

“How about I take my lunch break, and drive you home?  We’ll check the place out together and once we know it’s safe
,
I’ll come back to work?” she offered without batting an eye.  Just when you start to think you know a person…

“That would be great
.  D
o you have enough time to do that?”

“Eh, Ricardo owes me a break.  I covered for him last month when his girlfriend showed up on his lunch.  Let’s just say they took
way
more than an hour.  It’ll be fine, let me make a call and we can go.
” 

All of a sudden we had a plan of action
,
and that coupled with the clean clothes had me feeling better than I had all night.  I
got
the bloody costume bagged up in a mesh bag from the lost and found
,
and the stretchy booties they had to put over your feet made it almost seem like I was wearing shoes if no one looked too closely.