The light snake seemed solid so it surprised her, the more she stared, to see components within its brilliant glow. They were difficult to see, darting within the light like microbes on a slide.
The snake was similar in size to the serpent she had seen in the vision in Haiti, though that had been a darker creature in every sense of the word: black, choking, destructive. She had touched that one and was knocked back by a powerful force.
What about this one? Can I touch it?
Caitlin thought about extending a hand and suddenly she possessed one. It was hers, slightly luminous in the dark, aglow with… life? There was no bracelet on the wrist; the skin wasn’t sun-bronzed. Her fingers stretched toward the light—
No!
She froze inside. It occurred to her that this might be a near-death experience and to go toward the light might mean the end of her life. But there was no retreat either. She could not turn about. And then her options lessened even further—
She was moving toward the ring, as though she were on ice and possessed frictionless, effortless motion with no way to stop. The facets within the form of the ring itself were more visible now, each comprised of writhing lines of light, with more and more lines within those. There were so many elongated particles of luminescence that she found herself becoming overwhelmed, frightened. She was afraid of being consumed, of vanishing, of being subsumed by something that lacked physicality but somehow had gravity.
Caitlin was jerked toward it and her eyes snapped open.
She was breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling of the hospital room. She felt warm but was not perspiring. Her breathing immediately began to slow, and her racing heart rate returned to normal. She moved her fingers and toes, could feel them all.
The experience had had every quality of a panic attack. An unconscious state panic attack. The idea was something she had never even encountered in the literature.
Caitlin heard the instruments humming around her, adjusted to the strangely unexpected presence of substance, of weight, of material things. She looked to the right, over the rails alongside the bed. The door was shut. The chair was empty. Her mother was probably in the commissary or else on the phone. Perhaps she was taking a nap somewhere. No doubt she had been told that her daughter would sleep for hours more.
Caitlin looked at her arm. The IV drip in her hand was giving infusion therapy, probably a cocktail that included a sedative. She had to stop the flow. She hesitated; there was an occlusion alarm.
Just get the damn thing out, she told herself.
She removed the tape from just below the knuckles of her left hand, jerked out the needle, and jabbed it in her pillow so the formula would continue to flow. The alarm barely had time to chirp. There was no immediate response from the staff. She did not want to sleep or be examined. No nurse, no doctor could find what was wrong with her.
No doctor… in this era, she thought suddenly, strangely.
And they would miss what was very right with her: that she was somehow, miraculously, present again in the real world after having spent waking time in Galderkhaan.
Caitlin looked around. There was no window, no clock; she had no idea what time it was. What about her clothes, her belongings? When she had gone down in Washington Square Park she only had what she was wearing and her phone. She looked at the nightstand, didn’t see her phone, saw a small closet. That was to be her first destination.
She snickered—at herself, at the irony of the metaphysical world in which she had been spending so much time. She could travel millennia by pointing two fingers at the ground. She could go God knows where in an unconscious vision. Could she cover two yards in a hospital room without falling?
Caitlin tried to sit by sliding up a little on the bed. She used her elbows for propulsion, moved just a careful few inches and her head responded with a swirl of dark light and a painful jolt. She stopped. She put her tongue against the roof of her mouth to prevent herself from hyperventilating and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes.
Do it slowly, dammit.
This time she placed her palms on the bars and moved back tentatively. Her head swam, but only a little. She waited a moment, moved back a little more. She managed to get herself into an upright sitting position. She waited there, then felt for the latch to release “the cage.” She found it, pressed, and lowered the aluminum side so it wouldn’t clang on the mattress frame. She just now noticed that she was wearing her own pajamas.
Mom, she thought sweetly.
Caitlin allowed herself another moment. She felt like Jacob must feel when he played games on his bed, especially with the lights out, hoping she didn’t hear. As she thought of him a smile briefly turned her mouth; it was followed by a choke. If any boy on the planet could get his footing in Galderkhaan, it was little Captain Nemo himself. Still, she had to get to him and pushed, again, on the sturdy mattress.
As Caitlin slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, the door opened and a visibly tired Nancy O’Hara shuffled in carrying a plastic tray from the commissary. The woman froze when she saw her daughter. Caitlin was just beginning to pull off the pajamas Nancy had brought.
“What are you doing?” the older woman demanded.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
Nancy turned to look down the hall. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“Mother, no—don’t!” Caitlin said.
“You’re only half-awake, you don’t know what you’re doing!”
“I do know, just—please. Listen to me.”
Nancy half turned back into the room. She scowled. “You took the IV out of your hand!” she said, just noticing. “Caitlin, I’m getting him now.”
“I did do that, but you have to listen!” Caitlin said. “I truly know what I’m doing.”
“How can you?” Nancy asked. “You’ve been drugged! Before that, you were unconscious in a park.”
“Mom, just come in, shut the door, and let’s talk.”
“Why? So you can convince me to let you do something you shouldn’t be doing? I won’t allow it.”
“Okay, fine,” Caitlin said, holding up her hands. She pulled back on her pajama top. “I don’t want to stress you. I appreciate you being here. I assume Dad is with Jacob?”
Nancy nodded, calming slightly. “Your friend Anita is there too, resting.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know where my clothes are, anyway.”
Nancy softened further. “On a tray under the bed and they’re a disaster,” she said.
Caitlin sat there looking at her mother. “You know, you wouldn’t believe from me, from my clothes, that the last few weeks have actually been pretty astonishing. How is Jacob?”
“All right,” Nancy said. “He’s resting too.”
“What time is it? What day is it?”
“Tomorrow for you, about four o’clock.” She added, “In the afternoon.” Her expression continued to lose its edge as she came forward. “Caitlin, what happened? Did you have some kind of seizure?”
“Is that what the doctors said?”
“They don’t know what to think, exactly.”
“I’m not surprised. It was more like a hypnotic episode—it’s a long story but there’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing physical. Nothing I need to be here for.”
“Ohhhh… I know what you’re doing, Caitlin.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I wouldn’t let you out angry so you’re trying to smooch me up. It won’t work. You’re going to let Dr. Yang decide what should be done, and that includes when you leave.”