Chapter 53
I watched Othello storm out of the room, his white lab coat fluttering behind him. The door slammed shut as soon as he was gone. I sat there in the chair, simply stunned. Pondering my situation, I had to realize that Othello had the worst of it. He was alive as a pony for nearly eight thousand years, so being upset into a new body would be far more traumatic for him than it was for me. I was selfish. I reached up with a hand to rub my jaw, which was now starting to throb. I looked around the room. It was pretty much identical to mine. They even had a whiteboard.
Johnathan Cooper
Los Angeles, California
March 13th, 1992
cloudy
“Someone forgot to wipe the board...” I muttered to myself, working my jaw. I looked around the room again to find that it wasn’t actually empty at all. There was a spry looking patient tucked into the bed in the room. He had a pleased smile on his face, with spiky hair perched above bright eyes. He was looking at me intently, smiling. I lurched out of the chair, startled. I pointed a finger at him.
“You- You don’t know what we were talking about.” I said. He suddenly looked offended.
“I might!” He said indignantly, with a slight accent. I smiled but stopped pointing at him, putting the hand to my jaw. I looked at him again, trying to figure him out.
“Who are you?” I asked. He snorted.
“You read my board, didn’t you?” He stated. I frowned, staying silent. He decided to speak again. “What did you do?” He asked.
“I didn’t do anything.” I said, having no idea what he was talking about. I pulled the armchair up so it was facing the bed. I plopped myself down, looking at the man. He snorted.
“I don’t often get punched in the face by my doctor.” The man said. I turned back to his board to remember his name.
“Can I call you John?” I asked. He nodded. “Have you ever been in a really bad place in your life? So bad that you’re not sure how to go on anymore?” I asked. He looked down at his lap.
“Yes, I have.” He said dryly. I nodded, leaning forward on my chair.
“I had everything. A home, a great job, a mare that loved me. I had it made.”
“What happened?”
“I died.” I admitted. John sucked air through his teeth.
“Bummer. Get out, I need to sleep.” He said, rolling on his bed away from me and tucking his blanket over his head.
“But we were-” I started, but John started snoring loudly. I frowned and got up out of my chair, walking out of the room. I slammed the door behind me and walked out into the hall. I put my hands on my hips and looked around, completely unsure of what I should do. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do when I got out of the hospital, and I didn’t even know how much money I had or even where my house was. I didn’t know anything about this place. I just walked down the hall and back to my room.
Othello slammed the papers down on my lunch.
“That’s my sandwich.” I objected while chewing on the offended party.
“Now it’s your discharge papers. Sign it and get out of my hair.” He coldly said, plopping down in his armchair. I started calling it his when the one in my room started to smell like him. I looked down at the papers, or actually the paper, as there was only one. It looked like a thoroughly legal and confusing document. I skimmed it as I chewed on my pastrami and rye. I felt a sudden pain down the middle of my chest as I swallowed, no doubt from my freshly mended sternum. I reached up with a hand to touch my scar. It was still bandaged, so all I felt was the cottony gauze and tape. I looked around myself for a moment.
“Do you have a pen?” I asked, holding out a hand. Othello reached up to his lab coat breast pocket and pulled out a cheap red clicky-top. It was a red one, with two halves that are exactly the same length, separated by a tiny silver ring. I read the little advertisement on the side, which was ironically for life insurance. I smiled and was about to go down to sign my name when I paused for a moment.
“Does my signature count if I’m not actually Jamal King?” I asked Othello. He smiled a little bit.
“Muscle memory.” He explained, gesturing for me to sign it. I skeptically placed my pen down and started, rushing into a nearly automatic signature. When I was done I held my hand out for a moment, somewhat shocked. I turned to Othello. He wasn’t smiling. Feeling a little bit dampened, I placed the pen down and handed the paper back to Othello. He took it and put it back in his pocket. I picked up the remnants of my sandwich and leaned back in my bed.
“I’ve never been to San Francisco.” I said, gesturing with my sandwich to the ceiling. Othello looked over his shoulder.
“Send me a card.” He sniped, walking out of the door. It closed quietly with a dull sense of finality.
I met a lawyer at the airport, where one of my charter planes was waiting. It was a nice plane, bright eggshell with light blue trim. There was a three-pronged crown on the rudder. The lawyer was certainly crisp. His coffee skin was accented by the crisp white of his dress shirt. Apparently he knew Jamal before he died.
“Good afternoon, Mister King. I’m glad you didn’t die.” He said with the caring and bluntness that only lawyers can deliver properly.
“I don’t know you.”
“I’ve heard that you have retrograde amnesia, a rather severe case. I’m here to inform you about your affairs and your estate and to make sure that you can-” He was about to start, but I stopped him.
“We’ve got an entire flight to talk about this. Let’s hold off.” I said, walking past him and getting on the steps to the plane. I walked in and felt the rush of cool air. The sensation left me shocked, standing in the entryway. I couldn’t stand the sensation. I nearly fainted. It left me with so much loss, so much sorrow. I was so close to being used to human life. So, so close. I turned around and barreled down the ladder, knocking over the lawyer in my mad dash to get out. I sprinted to my car, hopping through the open window like they did in Dukes of Hazzard. I started my car as the tears started to fall. I closed my eyes and shook, the crippling sorrow rushing through me. I wiped my eyes and got off of the tarmac at breakneck speeds. I pulled onto the freeway and just drove. I wanted to go so fast my memories would just fall away. I don’t know how long I drove. I don’t know how many times I got pulled over. I didn’t know. All I did was drive.
“Welcome to Nevada” The sign said cheerfully. I felt horrible. I didn’t feel welcome anywhere. I drove.
“Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” The sign shouted at me. I didn’t want to stop there, with all of the bright lights and the bustling people. I drove.
“Welcome to Carson City” A nice small sign said. By far it was the nicest sign I had ever seen. I stopped to sleep there. There was a nice hotel that accepted me and Jamal’s credit card. I slept a restless sleep, completely devoid of dreams.
I woke up. I blinked, trying to remember what happened the night before. I tore the blanket off of me and got up. I looked down at myself, seeing my flannel shirt and slacks from the day before. Even my shoes were still on. I rubbed my eyes and walked over to the bathroom. The shower had one of those rods that curved so that the inside of the shower looked bigger than it actually was. I turned from that to the sink, and washed my face off. I felt a little bit better. I walked out of the bathroom and out of the hotel, meandering around the courtyard. I ended up on a bench in front of the parking lot. I watched the cars drive by. Nothing much happened, until It did. It was so very very startling that I couldn’t believe my eyes. It just appeared, standing there like it had for centuries. I gasped in awe. There it was. There was still hope for me yet. I was about to stand up when the door opened and out walked a tallish man. I recognized him as John from the hospital, but he was dressed strangely. He had on a brown striped suit and red converse all-stars. He stuffed something in his jacket and looked around as he left It like he was up to something. I watched him slink away somewhere else before I got up and looked at It. I walked over and placed a hand flat on Its surface. It was exhilarating. I walked around to the door and looked at it for a moment. I smiled and pushed open the door. I stepped through the doorway and it slammed shut behind me. Looking around, startled, I recognized my surroundings. A great, blissful smile spread across my face.
“I’m coming home, Luna.” I whispered. I let myself stand around for a little bit before rushing up to the big round console. I was about to place my hands on the controls when a shrill alarm interrupted me.
“Identify.” A cold female voice said. I gulped, hesitating. “Identify.” The voice said again, slightly sterner this time. I wrung my hands, slightly nervous.
“C-Captain Shell of the Royal Equestrian Guard Corps.” I said. The lights in the Tardis flashed red for a short moment, accompanied by a buzzer sounding.
“Incorrect. Submit to memory scan.” The Tardis said. I gulped, looking around. There was a faint mechanical whirr when suddenly something clamped itself onto my head. A cold goop spread down my face. I started to scream, trying to pull the thing off of my head. It didn’t even respond. The goop seeped down my face, covering up my nose and mouth. For some reason the goop stopped at my neck. I couldn’t see anything, but I grabbed at the device planted on my head, trying to get it off so I could breathe. I started to remember things. My first night in Equestria, my first time in the Tardis, the taste of a peach, everything. It took a few minutes, but I finally remembered everything. The goop quickly released me. I dropped to the floor and gasped for breath, trying to inhale as much as I could. I rolled over onto my back and coughed. I squinted my eyes and saw something over me.
“You’re that bloke from the hospital!” It shouted, pointing down at me. I coughed back at him.
“Welcome back, Captain Shell.” The Tardis greeted me. The Doctor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He did a double take between me and the console. He knelt down and got in my face.
“I don’t know who the bloody ‘ell you are. But you have so much explaining to do it’s not even funny.”