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Levi
Levi fought the tears. He knew this was a little foolish, as there was no one there to witness them. Yet, he felt as though he had started with ten steps between himself and complete, utter hopelessness and that if he succumbed to his tears again, he would be taking that tenth and final step.
So, he held them back. Even though his leg hurt worse than he imagined pain could ever hurt. Even though when he opened his eyes, his head hurt more than his leg. Even though his throat burned with thirst. Even though the pain had already made him dry heave multiple times. Even though he missed his mother and was nearly dying from guilt—he knew the fear he was causing her.
He didn’t cry.
“Son.”
Levi stopped breathing. The word had been whispered so quietly, he wasn’t sure if he’d really heard it.
Then it came again. “Son.” The familiar voice sent a warm rush of comfort through Levi’s broken body. A tear of relief leaked out through his closed eyelid.
But this was impossible. Though he knew it would hurt, he cracked his eyes open.
And there he was. Daylight from the basement window lit the smiling face of his grandfather, who couldn’t possibly be there.
“Gamp?” he tried to say, but his voice was hoarse.
This couldn’t be real. His Gamp had died three years ago. He closed his eyes again and lay his head back down on his arm. As if the injuries weren’t enough, now he was losing his mind.
Gamp didn’t say anything else, but suddenly Levi heard the familiar sound of knife on wood, a sound he hadn’t heard in so long, a sound that he hadn’t realized he missed. He opened his eyes again and saw his grandfather whittling. Someone who didn’t know Gamp wouldn’t have known that’s what he was doing. So far he was only removing bark from a thick stick. And even if that someone continued to watch Gamp work the wood, that person still might not know he was whittling, because Gamp had been especially bad at the art. It had been a family joke. He would spend hours making them trinkets, and they would smile and say thank you and not tell him that they had no idea what these trinkets were supposed to be.
When Levi was little, Gamp had whittled him a horse. Levi had thought it was a monkey, and, excited to have a wooden monkey, had shared this misidentification. Gamp had only laughed, but boy hadn’t his mother been mad at him! This memory of his mother brought a fresh onslaught of grief, and a tearless sob escaped.
“It’s all right to cry, son.”
Levi lifted his eyes to Gamp’s face. He wasn’t looking at him, though. He was looking at his hands.
“You’re not really here,” Levi said softly, mostly just to hear his own voice, mostly just to remind himself he was still in some control of his mind.
Gamp clicked his tongue. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Levi let his eyes drift closed again. He was so tired. Maybe he should try to go to sleep. He wasn’t sure sleep was likely with this much pain, but he felt himself drifting ... wait. Was it even safe to fall asleep? He was hallucinating, right? He had to be. His dead grandfather wasn’t in the basement with him. So yes, he was hallucinating. And what did that mean? Broken ankles didn’t make people see things that weren’t there.
But broken heads might. With a sinking heart he realized he probably had a concussion. No, more than probably. Did concussions make people hallucinate? He didn’t know, but he thought he did know that a person with a concussion wasn’t supposed to go to sleep. Now he wanted sleep more than anything.
“It’s safe to sleep, son. Sleep is good.”
Levi opened one eye again. This was good news, if his grandfather was right. But what did his grandfather know? And this wasn’t even his grandfather! This was his own messed up brain trying to give him messed up advice.
Gamp finally looked up from his whittling and raised one eyebrow. “Don’t believe me?” He held Levi’s gaze, waiting for an answer.
“You’re not real.”
He chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Please stop saying that.”
He looked hurt. “All right.”
“Sorry,” Levi said quickly.
“No need to be sorry.”
Levi tried to swallow. His throat was so dry. He studied the image of his grandfather, who sat on a chunk of firewood.
Gamp leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Doesn’t matter whether I’m really here. What matters is that you are. You hang on, son. They’re coming for you.”
They? Who was they? His first thought was that Kendall and Shane were coming for him, and this brought fear, not hope. “Who? Who’s coming?”
Gamp smiled, leaned back, and went back to whittling. That was frustrating.
“They’re coming. You just need to hang on.”
He didn’t know if he could. “I don’t think I’m in very good shape, Gamp.”
Gamp’s knife paused, and he looked up again, a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while since anyone has called me that. I’d forgotten how much I liked the sound of it.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. He started carving again. “I remember the day you first said it. Gamp. Gamp! You were so excited. And ...” He chuckled joyously. “I thought it was only temporary! I thought you’d get to Grandpa eventually, but you didn’t want to. You were always so stubborn.” He said this like it was a good thing, like it was something he was proud of.
“Stubborn got me here,” Levi mentioned.
“Yep.” He didn’t look up.
Levi wished he hadn’t agreed with him so readily. They were quiet for a few minutes, and Levi worried about falling asleep again. Maybe he should fall asleep. Maybe he didn’t have a concussion. Or maybe he did have a concussion but it didn’t matter if he fell asleep. He didn’t even know if that no-sleep-with-concussion rule was true. He wasn’t a doctor. Or a nurse. Or anything. Maybe a nap would do him some good. Yet the idea still scared him. He didn’t want to die. He forced his eyes open.
Gamp was still there.
“Are you a ghost?”
Gamp opened his mouth to answer, and Levi was certain he was going to say, “Maybe. Maybe not.” But Gamp snapped his mouth shut instead and pointed the tip of his knife at Levi, smiling broadly. “You almost got me there, son!”
“Because if you’re a ghost, then it might not be safe for me to sleep.”
Gamp frowned. “I don’t understand.”
This gave Levi pause. If Gamp was a figment of his imagination, then certainly he would understand when Levi said something that didn’t make sense. This thought made Levi more tired. Maybe it didn’t matter if Gamp was a hallucination or a ghost or anything else. “I am so cold.”
Gamp laughed again. “That’s ’cause you’re all wet.”
Levi scowled. “You’re not supposed to laugh at me right now!”
He laughed again. “You’re in no position to be telling me what to do.”
Levi sighed. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“So go.”
Levi hesitated. He’d already had to go once, but now ...
Gamp chuckled. “Are you feeling bashful? Go ahead, I won’t look.”
With great difficulty, Levi turned his body so that he could pee as far away from himself as possible. Still, it felt icky, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to do it many more times. He rolled back toward his hallucination.
“Done?”
“All done.”
“Good.” Gamp leaned forward and studied him. “I think you might have a fever.”
Great. Fevers caused hallucinations too. “Am I going to die?” he asked, not liking how small his voice sounded.
“Not anytime soon. I told you. They’re coming.”
