The Wisherman (24 page)

The next day found Oliver racing with adrenaline he didn’t know that he still had. It was even more difficult to seem unconscious when the nurses came in, as he was certain his heartbeat would give him away.
But the nurses walked away assuming nothing was amiss, and as soon as they did Oliver ripped the IVs from his arm. The door to the room opened, and he shrank back under the covers until he saw Dr. Heinz’s graying hair. Today, it was a bit wild as if he had been running his fingers through it. He sat down and applied several band aids to Oliver’s arm before looking up at him. “Are you ready?” Oliver nodded.

“Alright. I’m going to pull the fire alarm and insist that there’s an issue with my lab equipment. This should give you enough time to get Malachi and get out.
He is in room 008. Do not deviate, because you will only have fifteen minutes at most. Here, I’ve brought you a change of clothes and a backpack with supplies.” Oliver nodded again.

“And you’re feeling alright? Level headed?”

“I am.”

“Then, good luck, Oliver.” Dr. Heinz gave him one last look over before sweeping from the room. He leaped up and changed into the tee shirt and jeans and shouldered the pack. It was quite heavy, and something rattled around inside. He moved forward and pressed his ear against the door. He heard the hum of chattering nurses standing outside his door, hospital beds rolling, and phones ringing.

The sound of the fire alarm startled Oliver even though he was fully expecting it. The lights in the room flashed, bright and blinding. The doorknob turned slightly, and Oliver’s heart froze. “No, no. There’s been an accident in the lab. I need all hands down there immediately. The patients will be fine…the lab, however.” Dr. Heinz’s voice
came smoothly amidst the chaos and the doorknob stopped turning and footsteps pounded away.

The fire alarm blared still, but as he no longer heard voices, Oliver yanked open the door and sprinted down the hallway towards Malachi’s room. He skidded in to find Malachi adjusting his backpack straps.

“How are you?” Oliver asked, breathlessly.

“Great. We’ve got enough food in here to last us
at least a week. Money, too. Ready?”

“Y—Yes.” Oliver said, hesitantly. Malachi shot his a strange look, but he finished strapping on his backpack and headed toward the door.

They stepped out into the hallway. It was as empty. Voices could be heard in the distance. “This way, this way.” Malachi ushered him down the hallway. “Now, we head for the forest. Find the sewage tunnel.”

“Then what?” Oliver asked.

Malachi shrugged. “We’ll figure that out when we get there. Go, go go.”

They hurried down what seemed like endless corridors before Malachi shouted “There it is!”
At the end of the southwest wing, in which they stood, there was a low window, slightly ajar.

Malachi ran towards it. “Here, help me up.” Oliver started, but something caught his eye.
The room all the way down the hall, was a patient’s room and he squinted his eyes to see better. It read “Room 012. Reeves.”

“Oliver!” Malachi snapped.

“I just—

“Let’s go. Help me up!” Malachi demanded. Oliver hoisted Malachi on his shoulder and he crouched on the ledge of the window sill. “What are you doing? He hissed. Oliver’s eyes wandered back to Robert’s door, though he was at a loss for words.

“I’m just going to---

The fire alarm stopped wailing.

“Oliver!” Malachi hissed again.

“Go, just go without me. I’ll catch up.” Malachi’s jaw dropped, but he
pushed open the basement floor window. “I have one more thing to do.” Malachi looked at him wordlessly before shaking his head and disappearing into the night.

Oliver turned and
walked lightly down the hallway, jumping at every sudden noise. Each door along the hallway was closed, with the blinds pulled all the way down. Oliver stopped at each, peering into the darkness, bewildered, before coming across the final door of the hallway. The shades were pulled up, but only just enough that Oliver could see the silhouette of a bed inside. Oliver pushed open the door to Robert’s hospital room.

The room felt like ice. Oliver wasn’t sure that any living thing could survive inside. He looked over his shoulder before ducking in.
The hallway was dark, and not yet repopulated by the nurses. He still had time. The room was as dark as the hallway, and in the very center sat a bed. A figure was curled up beneath the covers, surrounded by a bastion of large hospital pillows. Oliver walked up slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from Robert's unusually slender form. He stood over the bed, and his eyes grew misty at the sight. Robert was mostly covered in blankets, but his upper shoulder stuck out, and the outline of bone was apparent. His hospital gown seemed three sizes too big, and his hair was plastered to his skull with a perspiration that couldn't possibly have been from the room.

"
Robert?" Robert’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. It took them several minutes to focus before Oliver saw the telltale signs of recognition within.

"How are you?"
Robert’s eyes darted around, and he made a motion to rise from beneath the covers, but after a few seconds of trying he lay back against the pillows, exhausted. He opened his mouth, and Oliver took the cue to lean in.

He strained his ears to hear
the whisper---a fraction of Robert's former voice. "You need to run. It’s not safe here for you. You have to go, now." Robert's crackling voice reminded Oliver of his mother. He looked down, and Robert was staring at him, eyes wide with fear and resignation.

"What? Okay, let's go now." Oliver started towards the door.

Robert shook his head, the look in his eyes growing more resigned. "You have to go." The panic crept up into Oliver's shoulders, paralyzing him with a shrug. "I can't come with you. I don't have the energy."

"No, you do. You do. You can do it." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Oliver knew they were a lie.
Robert's body was failing him, and anyone with working eyes could see that. Oliver had so many questions, he didn't know where to begin.

"You have to go" Robert
repeated.

"I can't just leave without you." Oliver sat firmly planted in the hospital chair besides Paul's bed
all the meanwhile realizing that his time was running out. Surely, it would be any moment before the nurses began flooding the hallways once more.

"Don't worry about me. It's fine. I never expected to go anywhere else." Olive
r's quizzical look prompted Robert to continue, though he paused for a moment to release a dry, rattling cough. "This was enough for me. All of it. The good, the bad. I just wanted a new place to go. This isn't enough for you, and I know that. You know that. That's why you have to go. I think your gifts were meant to be somewhere else other than Delafontaine." Robert stopped talking suddenly, as if the effort had become too much and had overwhelmed him.

Oliver stared at him, unsure of what to do while he composed himself. When he'd caught his breath again,
Robert made a sudden movement for a small crumpled object by his bed side. His fingers closed around the object and he placed it in Oliver's outstretched hand.

"Here, keep this with you. As a reminder." The object was soft, cotton and rolled up. Oliver delicately took one finger and unrolled it. He blinke
d, and then look back up at Robert, recognizing it as the item found in his pocket during their room search. "Out of the darkness comes light." Robert traced the outer black circle and then the inner white circle. “The Delafontaine official motto?” Oliver asked, confused.

“It is, but I figured that it could work in many ways. Show it to everyone else.” Robert coughed again.
“Do you like it? It’s our flag. You said you wanted them to know that they didn’t own us. Fly it.” Oliver looked down at Robert, unable to keep tears from flooding his eyes. His face was eager and for a moment it was like nothing had happened, like he was just showing Oliver something interesting on any ordinary day. 

“I love it.” Oliver said, and he leaned over, clasped his hands behind Robert’s head and hugged him. They stayed like that for who knows how long, before Robert said in a stronger voice, “You have to go.”

And then, the fire alarm suddenly started blaring in the building once more, sending Oliver flying out of his seat. "You have to go now!" Robert mouthed. Oliver rushed over to the door. He pressed his ear up against it, hearing frantic voices outside. He started to open the door, but Robert mouthed “Wait”.

As he did, he heard the sound of footsteps hurrying past. The voices began to die down, and Oliver cracked the door, peering through the sliver in the hallway. The hallway was a ghost town once more.
Oliver nodded at Robert before slipping through the door.

He closed
it gently behind him, staring at Robert's silhouette within, hunched over and unmoving. And then, he ran. He ran down the corridor as fast as he could. Not just so he could escape before he was found, but so that Robert’s story would a blip in the past, because he didn’t want to think about it anymore. Oliver didn't wonder if this was goodbye, he knew it was. He didn't know if Robert was gravely ill or not---they would probably never discuss what happened to him. For many reasons, Oliver didn't entirely want to know. But, this was most certainly a goodbye, a diverging of paths so distinct that they could only reunite in death. Because death is the only stop that everyone gets off at.

He jumped at the window, unable to reach it. The window sill was just a little too tall. Oliver figured he could probably get it with a running start, and he turned around to start back down the hallway,
and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Paul standing there before him. His fists were balled up like he was about to punch Oliver.

“Paul…?”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re still here. You always did want to play the hero.” Oliver stared, flabbergasted. Paul stepped closer and Oliver lurched backwards.

“I know about it. I know about it all. Oh, don’t play dumb
. “I know about you too.”

“How?” Oliver croaked.

“I mean, you told me.” Paul opened his fist and inside it was the familiar, crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat.

“A Disciple is always discreet.” He said, in a high pitched voice. Oliver stepped backwards, colliding with the wall behind him. “A Disciple knows that his gifts are nothing to be ashamed of. A Disciple knows that there is nothing more terrifying than being normal.”
Paul shrieked with laughter. “You know, this really is funny. It’s funny because you can think you’re getting the same opportunity in life that everyone else is, but really, you’re not even playing the game, because the game is already over. It must be nice to be special. What is that like? You see me, I worked hard to make a difference in my life. And you have to do is wish for it, right? That’s your gift, if that’s what we’re calling it?”

“No, it’s not like that at all.” Oliver protested. “A Disciple is owned by no one.” Paul rubbed his chin as if he were thinking deeply. “This line is particularly interesting to me. You have been special your entire life, and you come to a perfectly good school where you’re treated normally, and you can’t take it.”

“We aren’t treated normally here.” Oliver said. “Last time I checked, we were all criminals. Or do you think that doesn’t apply to you? Would you prefer the word ‘special criminal’? Does that have more of a ring to it? You killed your father. You’re lucky they’ll never be able to prove it.” Paul inched even closer. “You have blood on your hands now, and forever.” Oliver’s heart thudded to a stop. “Not just your father’s. People you haven’t even met yet. You know why. Because it’s a curse. See, your problem is this, Oliver.” He said Oliver’s name like it was a filthy word. “Your problem is you act like a god when you are really just a man.
The
Disciples
, was it? Good god.” Paul laughed and laughed and Oliver felt his cheeks burning. “Wasn’t much of a secret, now was it? I tried to help you, you know. I tried to tell you what would happen. I thought the graffiti would scare you.”

Oliver
guffawed in surprise. “You? That was you? Why?”

Paul rolled his eyes like a teacher who had grown tired of explaining the same concept over and over again. “I told you, I was trying to help you.” He shrugged. “They’re going to find you, you know.” Oliver looked at the window just above him. “Your stunt ruined a perfectly good festival.
Dean Tenbrook is pretty upset.”

Oliver looked back at the window again. “I don’t intend to discuss it with her.” At this, Oliver leaped for the window. He grasped on the window sill, while his lower body dangled above the floor below.
He inched forward, elbows slipping on the tile, and tried to swing his legs around the side, but they were suddenly caught. Oliver turned back to see Paul grabbing at his legs.

“He’s over here!”

The sound of many footsteps speeding up
sent shockwaves through Oliver. He kicked back his foot as hard as he could, and he heard a crunch when it connected with Paul’s nose. Paul screamed out and blood poured from his nostrils. Oliver swung his foot around and connected with the top of the ledge.