“Did they tell you anything?” I ask as we get out of the car.
“No. It was actually Eric who called. The hospital called him. All they would tell him is Greg woke up.”
I nod and continue inside. Eric meets us at the elevator, and we ride up together.
“They didn’t say anything about his condition?” I ask.
Eric shakes his head. “No. “
We get clearance and go to his room. The curtain has been pulled around the track on the ceiling to conceal his bed, and I see movement behind it. For one strange second, I think it’s Greg, that he’s realized he’s going to be late for breakfast and has just gotten out of the bed to leave.
Typical of him. Always keeping a perfect schedule.
“Greg?” I call out.
The curtain moves aside, but instead of Greg, it’s a young nurse named Paula. She’s adjusting his IV and stops to smooth his blanket. When she notices us, she smiles.
“Good morning,” she says.
I step further into the room and look at Greg. He looks no different than he did yesterday.
“What’s going on?” Sam asks.
Paula looks at me, then back at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I got a call that Greg woke up,” Eric tells her.
“He didn’t fully wake.” I look toward the door and the sound of the voice. Amelia comes in, looking smaller and paler than just hours before. I can’t help but notice the redness ringing her eyes. “I’m sorry if that’s what it sounded like.”
“What do you mean he didn’t fully wake?” I ask. “You called Eric and said Greg woke up.”
“Again, he didn’t fully regain consciousness. But he showed some improvement. He started speaking,” Amelia tells us.
“Speaking?” I ask. “What did he say?”
“Not much. I came in to check on him, and he was muttering a strange name. Lotan.”
I look at each of the men in the room with me, waiting to see one of them give any indication they know what the word means. They shake their heads at me.
“Lotan? That’s it? Are you sure that’s what he said?” I ask.
Amelia nods. “It stuck with me because it was so strange. I’ve never heard a name like that before. But he just kept saying it over and over. The doctors have been lessening the medication that’s keeping him under, so it’s expected he will wake up fully soon. I thought that’s what was happening, but he didn’t come all the way out of it. He just kept saying ‘Lotan’ for a few minutes, then went quiet again.”
“Is he alright?” I ask.
“The doctor came in and checked him out. He is getting better. It doesn’t seem he stopped talking because of any type of trauma or worsened condition. His brain just isn’t fully ready to wake all the way up yet. He will be soon,” she says.
“Do you really believe that?” I ask.
It’s the first time I’ve let myself ask a question like that. Up until now, I’ve just stayed quiet, assuming the doctors would give us any new information that might come up. But they’ve never mentioned his chances of recovery. It’s always platitudes of him getting better or his injuries healing. Tests look good, though they won’t give us full information about what those tests are. But now I want to know. I need to hear if I’m waiting for a chance that isn’t going to come.
“Yes,” Amelia nods. “I know he went through a lot, and he doesn’t look the best he’s ever looked, but he’s going to wake up. He’s fighting hard. Something is making him fight to come back.”
“Thank you,” I say. I look at Sam as she leaves the room. “We need to figure out who or what Lotan is. It must mean something. It’s significant if it’s the first thing he says when his mind starts to rise up to consciousness. I just don’t even know where to start. I’ve never even heard that before.”
“I have,” Paula says.
I turn to her.
“You’ve heard that name?” I ask. “Where?”
She glances at the door as if to make sure Amelia isn’t there anymore.
“Amelia can’t know I’m showing you this,” she whispers.
“We don’t have to tell her,” I assure her. “At least not yet. Where did you hear the name Lotan?”
“Do any of you have a computer with you”? she asks.
“Would my phone work?”
“I’ll try.”
I hand her my phone, and she clicks a few things into the search bar. It takes her a few moments and what looks like a complicated series of commands before she pulls up a video.
“What is this?” I ask as she hands it back to me.
“I noticed Martin always messing around on his computer during breaks. He never wanted to sit with any of us, and when we asked him what he was doing, he slammed the lid closed and wouldn’t let us see. It was really suspicious, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she says.
“So, you were nosy,” Dean joked.
“Yes,” she admits, but looks at him with a hint of bitterness in her eyes. “He did it every day, and it was strange. I just wanted to know what was so interesting. Maybe get a little bit more insight into him.”
“You didn’t know him well?”
“None of us did,” she tells me. “He’s a nice guy, and when he did want to talk, it was always fun, but it was obvious he was hiding something from us. I just wanted to know what it was. So, I created a little bit of a disturbance during one of his breaks. Then when he went to handle it, I went into the break room, found his laptop, and copy-pasted the URL into an email to myself. When I got home, I looked it up. It turned out to be an online
