Blake Canvass3 sm“You need to open your eyes and stay alert.”

“Why?” I asked, keeping my eyes shut. Sleep didn’t seem to be an option in spirit form.

“Because I do not want you disappearing into the nether land.”

“That’s not going to happen.” I glanced at him. “I’m healing.”

“Yes, but your spirit is still out here.”

“Only for another day or two.” I wasn’t about to tell him my body didn’t want me back. The Doc gave me a questioning glance, leaned over my wounds, and started wiping off and reapplying the goop. “How am I doing?”

“Fever is going down, bruises and head are healing. My special paste is sucking the poison out of your system; unfortunately the process is slower than I had hoped for, and you are still dehydrated. Might be because of the poison, but I am not sure. Now, the shot they gave you? I have no idea. It is not showing up in your blood work and Max is not going to be happy about that.”

“That may be the reason I’m not in my body right now. With everything else going on, feeling unnecessary emotion might be too much to handle.”

“Hey Doc, who are you talking to?” Chase asked from the doorway.

Doc glared at me. “Just talking out loud.”

“I picked up the TV and the stuff on your list. Do you have a few minutes to help me out with it?”

“Sure.”

They disappeared down the stairs, brought up the flat screen a few minutes later, and hung the TV in the corner of my room, beside my dresser, on a mount. It was pretty cool. The mount swiveled in and out, so I could adjust it as needed. Now I had the opportunity to lie in bed all day, zoning out on meaningless shows. I’ve rarely found anything worth while on TV to watch.

Chase slid a comedy into the DVD player he’d also bought and hit play.

The Doc vacated his seat to go do whatever he does in my kitchen. Chase plopped down in it, getting comfortable. The comedy blared on the screen. Chase adjusted the volume, and soon we were laughing so hard our breathing became erratic.

This went on for days. I’d pay close attention to the process of getting better, then regressing again. Chase and I would watch a comedy. I’d pace, and when no-one was looking I’d try and dive back into my body.

A week passed. Two weeks passed. It all seemed so surreal. The Doc kept a good eye on both of us, taking great care of my beat up body, while making sure I didn’t float away into never never land. I’d always considered myself tough, but as the days flew by I started to get nervous.

Was I ever going to get better?

Max called every day to make sure I was still alive. How sweet of him, I thought, grudgingly. I wondered what he could possibly be doing that was taking him so long to get back. Then reminded myself that I really didn’t care. He was no longer here, which meant he could no longer cause me any trouble.

Max had known the psycho, snow clown was an experiment gone wrong, but recently found out he was one of Max’s old friends. The agency informed Max, over a year ago, Blake died in a mission.

His experimental friend had been resuscitated, and mutated into what the government hoped would be the perfect assassin. Able to blend in to his surroundings, get behind enemy lines, and kill everyone in his way. Until he escaped, that is.

They’d sent Max to find, Blake, the assassin, hoping it would be an easy job, considering they’d been friends. What they didn’t take into consideration was that Blake would recognize Max. All of Blake’s past memories were, to their knowledge, wiped clean. But Blake’s memories started coming back to him the more he saw Max. Because of the way he was now engineered Max became the enemy. When I walked into the picture, some fuse popped, making the situation worse.

I had no doubt Max would have found him and recaptured him had he not felt the need to protect me. But with me in the picture the situation wasn’t as optimal for Max as it had been. Eventually Blake would have killed me and Max, or whoever he got his claws in first. Afterwords he might have gone after Chase and Rose, spreading out to the people who lived up here in the mountains.

The government may have been able to engineer a great assassin, but they definitely couldn’t control it. The answer to whether Blake was dead or alive stayed classified, along with the knowledge of whether they were experimenting on him again. I didn’t think Max was even privy to the information.

Max also said he wasn’t coming back until he found a cure for the shot they gave me, which his government buddies denied having anything to do with.

Chase whispered the details to me one night, hoping an explanation might help me to get it together. I hoped so too, but apparently not. I still paced around in spirit form. It was nice not having to worry about eating or sleeping, but at the same time I was ready to get on with my life.

Blake-A Montana Dayton Novel Ch. 23

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