Page 11 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Someone had tried to kill her. Smashed in her head. The crunch of the pumpkin cookie and her skull, and the strange scream of the dog. But Jet was still here, she wasbreathing – gulped one in just to check. This was real – another blink to be sure, her body laid out before her, two hands, two legs that moved when she asked. And she must have a head because she was seeing and hearing and breathing out of it.

She was alive.

She’d survived.

Fuck.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

‘Jet.’ Mom’s face was clearer now, inches from hers. ‘The doctor is coming now. She’s going to explain to you, and you need to listen, OK? It’s very important. They won’t do it unless it’s your choice. You’ll know the right choice, sweetie.’

Mom reached out to stroke Jet’s hair, but her fingers stalled. ‘Sorry, I forgot.’

‘Got her!’ Luke’s voice, charging into the room, breathless, like he’d run all the way. ‘Hey, Marge,’ he said softly, not like Luke at all. ‘You OK?’

‘Got a bit of a headache.’ Jet smiled. None of them would look at her. Come on, she was just trying to lighten the mood. She was alive.

The door swung open again, a small woman with dark skin and braided hair, a file clutched in her hand. She didn’t smile either.

She cleared her throat, eyes alighting on the bed. ‘Good to see you awake. Your family said you like to be called Jet,’ she said. ‘I’m Dr Lee.’

Jet didn’t know what to say.Nice to meet you?Why did everyone look so fucking miserable? She was alive, she was awake.

‘Can I just …’ Dr Lee said, coming close, drawing a penlight from the pocket of her white jacket. And, yes, she could just, because she was already doing it, shining the light in Jet’seyes. One and the other. Light off. ‘How much have you told her?’ The doctor turned to Jet’s mom.

‘Nothing,’ Dianne said, backing off. ‘We were waiting for you.’

‘Guys, it’s OK,’ Jet sniffed. ‘I already know. I remember everything. Someone hit me in the back of the head. Tried to kill me.’

Silence.

‘Didn’t do a very good job of it,’ Jet said. Jazz hands, for effect.

Dad cupped his fingers to his mouth, holding back a sob. A silent tear rolling down his knuckles.

‘Mr Mason, please,’ Dr Lee said, pulling up a chair to sit beside the bed. ‘Jet. I’m a neurosurgeon. You’re in Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center.’

‘How long have I been here?’ Jet asked. ‘What day is it today?’ What day, or what year? Fuck – had she been asleep a lot longer than she thought? Oh fuck, had she been in a coma for years – is that why everyone was being so weird? She hadn’t turned thirty already, had she? All that lost time.

‘It’s Sunday,’ Dr Lee said, voice calming, reacting to Jet’s panicked eyes, ‘at 2 p.m. You’ve been here about thirty-six hours.’

‘Fucking phew,’ she said. ‘That’s a relief. I thought I was old.’

Dad turned away, faced the wall.

‘Jet, you were in a bad way when you arrived at the ER,’ Dr Lee said, fiddling with the edges of the file. ‘You were an eight on the GCS on arrival, which means you were comatose, had to be intubated. Suffered cardiac arrest from blood loss shortly after. We were able to stabilize you, get you into surgery. You had a subdural hematoma, here on the left side of your head, under that bandage. That means a buildup of blood on the surface of the brain. We evacuated the blood and there didn’t appear to be any significant brain trauma.But we believe you were hit three times. Once on the left side of your head there, and twice on the back of your head, near the base of your skull.’

Those were the ones Jet remembered.

Dr Lee swallowed.

‘Your skull was fractured. A longitudinal fracture across the occipital bone. The first blow would have caused the fracture, the second would have depressed the bone farther into your brain.’ She paused, looked down. ‘Considering the site of the injury, the violence of the attack, it’s a miracle there isn’t significant damage to the vital tissues and vascular structures of the brain, that you’re able to move and think and function as you are. I’ve never seen anything like it. But.’

Jet knew there had to be abutcoming. Because if it was a miracle, her family wouldn’t be looking at her like this. Like she hadn’t woken up at all.

Her head was throbbing, the base and the left side; now she knew where to pinpoint the pain. Hot and sharp, an imitation, a ghost of how it had felt at the time. When her head had exploded open.

Dr Lee flipped the file in her lap.

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