Chapter Seventeen: Fusion

The sun was shining brightly that morning before Chris went in to work at the small corner diner. Now clouds had gathered menacingly overhead and seemed to reflect exactly how he felt. Brief flashes shot through the sky, followed by a threatening rumble several seconds later. Although thunder and lightning talked back and forth in the darkening sky, not a drop of rain fell. Noticing this, Chris briefly looked up curiously and then continued on.

No sooner had he stepped forward than his entire surroundings turned blindingly white. A deafening roar accompanied the light, but he didn't hear anything - he was already stretched out across the sidewalk with burns speckled across his body. On the unconscious body, rain began to fall.

* * * * *

It was only hours later that Chris woke up. There was no question about where he was - the smell, the hum of the machines, the drip of the I.V. were all too familiar to him. This time there was no one in the room to greet him. A nurse walked past the door, but didn't stop. The burns were noticeably painful, but the worst thing was the shooting pain that came from his arm - it was too familiar. Chris was just getting past the sensations that he continued to feel on occasion. The doctor explained that this often happened to people who had lost limbs, but it never felt right and he hated it. The sharp pain that he was feeling now just reminded him that he was a "cripple", as he was just reminded back at the diner.

Something was different, though. As he lay in the bed waiting for the nurse, doctor or whoever, he gripped the sheets tightly. It helped to alleviate the pain. Something different. He suddenly realized that he was gripping the sheets with both hands, including the hand that he didn't have. He swung his prosthetic arm in front of his face just as the doctor walked in, a man in a suit in tow.

"I suppose you'll want an explanation," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. I was hoping you'd still be asleep. I'm Dr. Spencer and this is Dr. John Fansler. He's the director for the hospital – I was hoping he could help me out.” Dr. Fansler reached out politely to shake hands with Chris, who also reached out. They shook hands, the doctor with his hand and Chris with his prosthetic. They looked at each other with equal astonishment.

“Sorry, Dr. Spencer, but I'm not sure what to say.” He was very aware that the hand he shook was not flesh, which is why it troubled him so deeply. It gripped like a real hand, but felt cold and hard. “How do you feel, Chris?”

“To be honest, I'm a little tired of being asked that question,” Chris answered quite frankly. “When I first got hurt I was asked that same question a lot. It wasn't that long ago.”

“Fair enough. It seems that you were struck by lightning over on 6th Street. The odds are something like 1 in 700,000, so it looks like you just got lucky,“ Dr. Fansler said in sort of a wry attempt to joke. “but I have no idea what the odds are that a prosthetic arm would fuse to your body.”

“Well, unless you have some other ideas, I suggest we continue with our initial plan,” Dr. Spencer said to the other other doctor, mostly ignoring that Chris was right between them and aware of every word that was spoken. He then turned to Chris and began speaking to him as if he had just materialized suddenly. “Chris, there's a team of doctors at the University of Nevada, Reno that specialize in unusual accidents. I've already talked to them about this and they're very anxious to meet you. We've already made all the arrangements – we just need your permission to transport you. You've still got some burns that need treatment, but they can take care of that while you're there.”

“You're kidding, right?” Chris knew that something was going on – it's hard to ignore the fact that your fake arm suddenly started working as if it were your real arm. “I mean, is this a joke?”

“The only funny thing is that they said that they've heard from several people about weird things that have been happening. They couldn't say much due to some patient rights issues, but they said it's pretty big.”

“So what is this place, some kind of secret underground lab? I'm not going to be someone's science project.”

“It's not like that. These guys are respected doctors and they work out of a regular hospital. You can see your family and friends while you're there, just like any other hospital.”

Chris sat for a minute and thought about it. As much as he hated the time he had spent in the hospital, he wanted to know what caused his arm to come to life. It was impossible, and yet it seemed real.

“I'll go.”

Chapter Fourteen: Dreamland

Krystal awoke to an empty room, sunlight streaming through the window and hitting the curtain separating the beds. She thought she remembered sharing a room with someone, but she was now quite alone.

Memories of the accident flooded back into her mind. She remembered walking with Tedford, talking about their families and friends. The bike appearing suddenly around the corner with no warning. Sharp pain, then darkness... and voices.

She had met Tanagua in that in-between area between sleep and consciousness, or at least she thought she had. Was it real? Was it a dream? He had told her about visitors from other worlds, and the love of Our Savior, Jesus Christ, for all mankind. That He was watching over all of his Father's children, and that he was concerned for her, Krystal, whom they knew by name. Tanagua was a gentle soul, it seemed, and she felt right at home in his presence.

It *was* just a dream, wasn't it? "Teddy Bear!" she suddenly said outloud, seeing him walk into the room carrying a crumpled, white paper bag with the ubiquitous golden arches emblazoned on the side. "Hey, girlfriend, I brought you some real food. You okay? How long ya hafta stay?"

"They said I could leave this morning, after they complete some paperwork or something," she said, smiling as she unwrapped a Filet-o-Fish and devoured it, some tartar sauce dripping out of it onto her hospital gown. "It was just a concussion," she continued, her mouth half full, as Tedford admired her as she ate. He thought she still looked remarkably hot, despite not having showered now for a couple of days, having been run down and unconscious for a few hours, and now wearing the food stain upon the normally unbecoming hospital attire.

A nurse entered the room with a clipboard full of blank forms for Krystal to sign, scornfully looking over her and Tedford together, and softly mumbling something about "indigent" something or other as she retreated back out into the busy hallway.

"Look, Teddy Bear, I need to tell you..." Krystal started, but was interrupted by Tedford's hand moving gently in front of her lips, "You don't need to say nuthin', girl, you da bomb in my book." Krystal smiled at him, and opened her mouth as if to try and interject some mild protest, but T-Bone deftly cut her off by picking up her jacket and shoes from off the nearby chair, and tossing her jeans and t-shirt to her along with a question, "Whaddya say we get outta this joint?"

Chapter Twelve: Artificial Birds

"Hey, can someone give me a hand over here?"

It was at least the millionth time Chris had heard this comment, or at least some variation of it. When people made the joke it was usually because they were trying to show-off for friends. It was obvious that this was the case by the way he elbowed his friends in the ribs after making the joke and the way they laughed in such a self-satisfied way.

"Sure. What can I help you with?" Chris quickly responded as if he had no idea what the stranger was referring to. This usually served to disarm the jokester and make him feel foolish, but it wasn't working on this one.

"You crippled and retarded?" the man persisted.

Usually Chris could shrug off any insult or comment hurled at him, but for some reason this guy got under Chris's skin in a way he wasn't used to. These comments were usually insensitive and thoughtless, but this time the remarks seemed to be particularly cold and meant to provoke.

"Oh, I see," smirked Chris as if it just hit him what the man was talking about. "Here you go!" Chris detached the prosthetic arm and tossed it across the counter, hoping he could perhaps diffuse the situation with some light-hearted humor. The attempt did not work. Instead, Chris found that he was standing face to face with a bully that was at least six inches taller than he was and ready to shut Chris up for good. From the corner of he eye he saw the man throw the arm across the floor where it slid until it hit the wall. He nervously looked over to where the arm stopped and was more than a little amused that the lifeless hand almost appeared to be making a rude gesture at the hostile visitor. Afraid at how the creep might react if he made his amusement public, Chris cautiously turned his head back just in time hear a thump! and see the man double over. Sam, his non-romantic girlfriend, had caught the bully off guard by hitting him in the stomach with full force.

Not wanting to be defended solely by a girl, Chris swung at the man's face just as he was starting to stand upright. The swing never hit the intended target due to a brief relapse in his memory. Forgetting that his arm was much shorter now than it had been that last time he swung his fist, Chris threw his strength into the punch, missed and half-stumbled into the would-be recipient. If the artificial "bird" laying on the floor wouldn't have made that man laugh, then the image of a "cripple" swinging with a non-existent arm certainly would have. And it did. The man turned and laughed as he walked out the door with his friends. As they walked past the window and out of sight they appeared intoxicated, stuttering and stumbling as they went on their way.

Sam had already walked over and picked the arm up off the floor and was walking back to where Chris was standing. Chris realized for the first time that his arm was gone. He knew that it was, but not with the stark realization that he did now. He wanted to take arm from Sam and throw it as hard as he could through the window, but thought better of it. He reattached the limb and walked out the door.