The Immortal Chat: Episode 3

In which we learn that she owns property.

| CW: swearing, some violence, some mature humor |
| Disclaimer: This an old writing style from several years ago. I do not endorse nor approve of things characters may say or do. |

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"I blinked, blurred vision slowly resolving into recognizable shapes. Monitors with fluctuating graphs. Constant, quiet beeping of machines. Disinfectant in the air. Holding up my arm, I stared at it blankly for a moment. An IV. Fuck…"

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Episode 3

*hey
*whats up what did I miss
*not much man
*still in a fuckin coma
*still??? It’s been a week right
*idk I’m not keeping track
*boringggg
*chill out man, at least there’s a window
*omg, stop the fucking press. We can see traffic outside

I blinked, blurred vision slowly resolving into recognizable shapes. Monitors with fluctuating graphs. Constant, quiet beeping of machines. Disinfectant in the air. Holding up my arm, I stared at it blankly for a moment. An IV. Fuck…

Cautiously sitting up, I looked around the hospital room slowly.

“Guys, how long have I been out?”

*hey she wakes
*the zombie rises
*glad to see you’re doing better
*its been sooo boring omg
*go do something interesting
*give her a minute to wake up, won’t you? Dicks
*you’re a dick

“Chat! Guys, just tell me how long I’ve been out, then you can go back to your bickering.”

*we think maybe a week or two
*!death counter
Chatbot: it has been 256.34 hours since her last near-death experience
*thats oddly specific
*now it’s 256.35 hours. Gotta keep track
*you mean 15,381 minutes
*922,860 seconds
*No it’s .2 lightyears
*lightyears measure distance not time idiot
*922860000 milliseconds. I win, bow before my greatness
*you are indeed mighty, great one

I grimaced, moving my arms and legs one at a time, all seemed to be doing ok. Checked my side. What had been a horrific mess was now smooth and normal, with only the sensitivity of new skin to remind me of the injury, until that too was gone. Stretching, I swung my feet off the side of the bed and glanced out the window. St. Margaret’s hospital, one of the bigger ones in the city. I’d been here before, unfortunately… although given that I was nabbing a philandering doctor and it was about 70 years ago, I wasn’t too worried about being recognized. Looked like the building had been redone since. Just goes to show that time marches ever on.

I broke out of my musings as the door opened. Snapping my gaze up, I watched my visitor warily. It was the man from the day before… or rather, a couple weeks before. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of me sitting up, apparently in fine health. We observed each other for a minute.

*hey it’s that guy
*yeah I have to hazard it to him he’s been dedicated
*hazard it?
*FUCK
*DAMN YOU AUTOCORRECT
*yes, we must hazard it to him
*hazarding is important
*i hate you all

The silence dragged on. He shook himself a little and walked over to a table I hadn’t noticed yet, setting down a small vase of flowers. There was already a couple vases of them, one a little sad-looking. He picked that one up and threw away the flowers, stepping into the small bathroom to rinse out the vase. Turning back, he stood in the doorway and leaned against the doorjam with his hands in his pockets.

“How are you feeling?”

I took a moment to process the question. How do normal people discuss these things? I didn’t even remember.

“Ok. Tired but that will pass.”
“Good,” he looked visibly relieved, “I was concerned. That bus hit you pretty good.”
“I guess I was lucky.” I shrugged.
“You must have amazing luck.”
“I suppose I do.” Oh, if only he knew. Having exchanged basic pleasantries, he seemed at a loss for words. I stayed quiet, unwilling to give him any more information than I had to. My plan was to skedaddle out of this place as soon as he left, after all.

*im still shocked he came back again
*you owe me ten bucks
*and me 50
*we’re spirits where am I going to get money
*you backing out?
*here, have ten air bucks
*that will be acceptable
*i accept your acceptance
*i accept your acceptance of his acceptance
*guys cut it out
*you cut it out
*for real tho, why is he coming back every day
*he wants some booteh
*!bow
Chatbot: bow chicka wow wow
*no he’s concerned, you heard the man
*whatevs. Can we go back to killing stuff now?

He’s coming back every day? That’s interesting. Concerned citizen, creep, or someone who’s onto my vigilante activities?

Suddenly a police siren began wailing outside as a uniform rushed to the scene. I remembered my duties… I need to get out of here now. I’ve wasted too much time already. I yawned, and the man got the hint and pushed off of the doorjam, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing me a card.

*ohhh, mister Casanova
*what does the card say
*probably something about how stupid you are
*heyo!
*not cool dude
*i think it has a name
*its a business card dumbass, of course it does
*James? His name is James? How normal
*wait what was yours
*...Bill
*you’re kidding me

“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from your rest. I just wanted to say how thankful my sister and I for you saving our lives the other day. If you ever need anything, anything at all, just give me a call.”

I watched him leave and close the door softly behind him in surprise. Sister…? Guess they weren’t a couple after all. Apparently I can still be wrong about people, even though it’s been so many years, so very many years. Tucking the card into my sleeve, I lay back in my bed to wait for nightfall, when it’d be easier to sneak around.

When the morning sun came, all they’d find is an empty bed and a few dying flowers.

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