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her blackened, wet hands, Hanna shook. “What’s going on? Where are my parents?”

Turning back and looking at Hanna with an uncommon curiosity, the doctor said, “Were you on flight seventy-three?”

Hanna nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

He drew in a breath. The doctor sat down again, still staring at her. “You have no broken bones.”

She had no response to that. Hanna knew it. Nothing hurt anymore. Not even her skin.

“You look like you have been burned once, but it is long scabbed over,” he said, reaching out gently towards her arm which was covered in the blackened scabs.

“What is it?” Dr. Grishom said, coming over and holding up the chart. He looked at Hanna. “That’s not the girl. She doesn’t match the chart.”

“I think we should take her to x-ray again.” The doctor stood up. He looked once at Hanna and then to the orderly.

“That is not necessary,” Dr. Grishom replied, sounding annoyed again as he glanced at Hanna once more.

She rubbed her forehead, clenching where her hair on one side was now burned stubble. The scabby crust crumbled under her fingers breaking off. Hanna wiped it, expecting it to bleed again, but nothing wet came. In fact, it felt like scratching off an annoying itch. She heard the doctor gasp. She looked up.

Dr. Grishom stared at her. The other one had his mouth open. He crouched down and reached for her face where her skin pulled from dried blood. Wiping it gently with his fingers, she felt the scab break then fall off as if it were merely crumbs. He rubbed again on her shoulder, feeling her shirt break apart with the burned skin. He dusted it off then stood up.

“There’s no scar.”

Hanna blinked, turned her head, and looked over at it. Black and ashy, it looked more like she had been playing in soot than like she had been burned.

“Take her to x–ray at once,” Dr. Grishom murmured. He turned, looking at the orderly. “Quickly.”

The man hefted Hanna back onto the gurney and they pushed her as if in a race now, popping through sets of doors on the way. Jogging after them, the doctors joined them back in the x-ray room. The technician blinked at her and then at the two doctors.

“I already did her. She has a broken ankle, several broken ribs and a compound fracture in her left arm.” But after she said that, she stared at Hanna whose arm was perfectly straight. “Impossible.”

They put Hanna on the table a bit too hastily for her comfort, so much that she was jostled into place. Making her lie still once again, the technician set up for each x-ray. All those eyes staring at her were more than she wanted to bear, making her feel like a bug. But she had to do it.


Hanna sat in ICU enduring a nurse’s sponge bath. Gently wiping off all the ash and charred clothing, the nurse remained silent the entire time, her lips pressed together in a line. After they cleaned off all her scabs and changed her clothes to a clean hospital robe, Hanna rubbed her fingers through the awkward punk-like stubble on her scalp. Some of the original length was still there. It was the only proof she had been in the plane crash. No scars. No broken bones. Nothing else showed what had happened to her.

As soon as the nurse was finished, she left Hanna alone, carting away all the pieces of trash and burnt skin. Hanna rolled over on her side, staring into space, the events of the plane crash going over and over in her mind. What had happened?

“You have a visitor,” a nurse said, opening her door. They had given her private room. It was strange to her since all the other crash victims were still being cared for in a public area, including the baby. She didn’t know who requested it since she sure hadn’t.

Hanna looked up, hoping it was Saul—though it was impossible he would be able to get there so soon from school. He went to a California university.

“Hello, Miss Eber,” a suited man said, entering her room with another stranger. Dr. Grishom walked in also, still watching her with some trepidation. His eyes said that he was feeling subdued with the recent events he had just witnessed.

She blinked at him and then looked at the two strangers again.

“I am Agent Johnson of Federal Bureau of Investigation. We met once. I worked with your mother.”

Hanna nodded slowly. He was familiar, though she had never spoken with him before. She shifted in her bed to get in a more comfortable position.

“This is Agent Greenwald, my partner. We have a few questions for you.” Agent Johnson pulled out a pen and a note pad. However, Hanna knew they were probably recording their conversation at that very moment.

Seeing that she was waiting for them to ask, Agent Johnson smiled and put his pen to his pad. “Did anything suspicious happen on the air plane before it went down?”

Hanna blinked at him. “Uh, yes, actually. But—first, what happened to my parents? The doctors won’t tell me.”

Agent Johnson’s face suddenly went solemn. “I am sorry, but both your parents were killed in the crash. In fact, it is rather surprising that you survived. The rescue workers on the crash site said that all of your bones and internal organs should have been crushed.”

But Hanna did not hear the last part. Only the first part remained in her head. Her parents were dead.

She stared blankly.

“Miss Eber?” A voice came as a distant echo.

Hanna barely looked up. Where was she? Wasn’t she just sitting next to her father on the plane? Where was her mother?

They were dead.

Tears flooded down her cheeks. Hanna covered her face with her hands. “No.”

Agent Johnson sighed, glancing at his partner. It was no use asking her anything at that moment. Hanna bawled, sobbing uncontrollably in her arms and onto her knees.

They stood up and turned to Dr. Grishom. “Her brother should be notified. We can give you the number to call.”

Agent Johnson stepped from the room as his partner walked over to talk to a nurse. “This room should remain locked and guarded. No visitors, especially the media. As of today, she does not exist. Got it?”

Dr. Grishom nodded, glancing over at the healed burns on Hanna’s scalp.

“And if her brother wants to visit?” the doctor asked, staring at the closed door.

Agent Johnson sighed. “He needs to be spoken to first. Let us know when he arrives. We’ll talk with him. We can’t have unwanted publicity right now.”

Dr. Grishom nodded. “I understand.”

They left without any more ado, not even to speak with the other survivors of the crash.


The rest of I am NOT Electricity

can be downloaded for a small fee at Lulu.com

Imprint

Publication Date: 12-14-2009

All Rights Reserved

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