Chapter Text
o0..0o
One day after the crash
September 15th
o0..0o
She was supposed to be dead.
That’s what all the paramedics had said, what confused the doctors. Though everyone in Uranium said it was a miracle; that there was a sole survivor of the “Cyclone Incident”. That she had almost been decapitated by the rollercoaster that landed on her after she fell out of the cart. Not to say no real damage hadn’t been done, she was sporting a back brace that made her lay so stiffly on the hospital bed that she might as well have been a porcelain doll.
Then there was the large neck brace that kept her head in place so the stitches wouldn't pop out. It hardly allowed her any movement, and personally, she felt like some old french ruler with their pompous fluffed out collar littered with cake crumbs. If her head had fully come off, perhaps she could even compare herself to Marie Antoinette.
“As the blade dulls over time, the less smooth the beheading becomes. Usually it would take multiple tries to fully chop off the head of the victim of the guillotine, leaving them in immense pain. I find that disturbing.” She croaked out, her mind felt like puddy due to all the pain killers and shots she had been given to dilute the pain of the twisted limbs and broken neck, but she was still conscious.
When the emergency services had found her trapped under the debris of ragged metal that was once the cart to a rollercoaster, she was mangled. Still alive, but mangled nonetheless. Slipping in and out of consciousness she could hear the sirens of an ambulance, the murmurs of a crowd and crying children who had watched the disaster play out right in front of them. It was all so loud. She wanted to cover her ears and rock back and forth, holding her dolly close to her chest, yet the only thing she could do was incoherently mumble the names of her friends.
In the ER room of Uranium City, Saskatchewan’s local hospital is where she had learned the fate of her fellow choir members. All were found in the same bloodied position she was once in. Ocean had died of blunt force trauma and being implied by one of the beams that supported the ride, Constance flew out of the cart and hit the track of the rollercoaster, Noel had fallen to his death with his legs and arms contorted, Mischa died under the rubble and debris. Ricky’s frail body couldn’t handle the impact of the Cyclone derailing, causing him to die on the spot.
Despite the fact that she knew they had died, she cried anyway. From her time in the warehouse she learnt they were all such lovely people, people who she never got to meet or understand in the living world, though her memory was hazy of her time spent in limbo. During the trip to the hospital in the ambulance, the medics had informed her of how she was mumbling about the carnival’s mascot Karnak, she even had apparently started humming a tune.
“One, two, three… One, two, three… One, two, three, four.”
She could hardly remember any of those small details, her head was hurting too much thinking about spirits or reincarnation. It was something she would have to go back to when the medication started to wear off. It still upset her enough, after all her friends were dead and she wasn’t due to a majority vote.
“Penny Lamb?” A doctor had come into the room she was stationed in, she’d turn her head to face him if she could, but with her neck brace it was near impossible. “Penny.” She repeated under her breath, testing the name out on her tongue. Penny still wasn’t used to her birth name, despite apparently owning it for seventeen years, though she was happy to learn she had one, no longer was she a Jane Doe. “We managed to get a hold of your family, albeit the commune you used to live on no longer houses the Lamb residence, we did find the jailhouse your parents are located in, your brother should be able to visit you.”
The doctor started rambling about social workers, residential treatment centers, and some other things she didn’t have the right headspace for. The only thing Penny was focused on was her brother. She couldn’t think of a name, nor a face, on which the term “brother” belonged, she only remembered that he had existed. “Why can’t I live with my brother?” Penny had interrupted, her voice still hoarse and weak from the wound that wrapped around her neck like an ugly tattoo.
“Ezra is underage, just like you, though I doubt you remember much before the incident. We could manage to get you in the same foster system since you two are family.” The doctor took a pause to put on his glasses and flip through a couple files on his clipboard, “It says here you’re currently staying at the Saint Cassian High School, not many people actually live there, it stopped being a boarding school for a few years now. Of course we’d have to run this through with your social worker.”
“but I’m not here to get into the legalities of where you’ll be staying after you’re fit enough to go back to school. How are you feeling?” He asked, folding his glasses and hooking them onto his shirt. This was the first time Penny got a good look at the man who had been seeing her since her admission into the hospital. He looked like every other Canadian in Uranium, though he had shaggy curly hair compared to some other doctors who used a considerable amount of gel. He was lanky and stood up to about 5 '9 from her eye level, on his white coat he was wearing his hospital ID that read: “Dr. Planks.”
Penny stared up at him, not quite sure how to explain how she was feeling. The pain killers were doing their job so she wasn’t in any real distress. She felt neither good nor bad, just in this weird state of complete apathy to her situation, as if she was back in the warehouse. “Good.” She shrugged, or attempted to, her back brace with her neck brace prohibited much movement from her torso and above.
That seemed to satisfy Doctor Planks for the time being, “I’m going to run some quick tests on you, then I’ll be out of your hair. Don’t feel the need to reply back, your throat needs some serious healing time.” Penny didn't have enough energy to have a proper long conversation so she was fine with the No talking policy.
The ‘tests’ were simple observations to her well being and a prescription of new painkillers. There was little to be done that wasn't already accomplished when Penny had first arrived. What isn't covered by the braces was wrapped in a cast, which included one arm and leg which had snapped from her fall, whilst her right hand had simply been dislocated. She doubted she would be walking anytime soon, at least not until her legs healed. “Did you bury the bodies?” Penny had abruptly asked, her hazel eyes faced the doctor when her head could not.
“I’m not quite sure actually, based on my understanding they should still be in the morgue. All of the deceased’s family members have to claim their bodies, figure out funeral plans. It could take up to a week.” Doctor Plank could see the distress in Penny’s eye, even if her face didn't show it. “You probably wanted to pay your respects. By the time you're able to leave the hospital, you should be able to visit the cemetery, trust me your friends are in good hands.”
No parents came to claim, so they never learned my name; or who I used to be. The words popped into her head like an unwanted horsefly, so fresh in her mind as if it happened yesterday. Only on the fact that it had. “I would like to visit. I want to make sure they aren’t forgotten.”
Ocean O’Connel Rosenburg,
Noel Gruber,
Constance Blackwood,
Ricky Potts,
Mischa Bachinski.
Penny wouldn't let them become forgotten names in the cruel hands of time. They were a part of the choir for years now, their names listed in competitions and in the yearbook, she knew no one would forget that; but who they were as people. What their dreams and aspirations were, that would slowly disappear from people’s psyche, only names associated with an accident. The nicest girl in the homeroom, that one taco bell employee, our Five Saints.
How many people knew of Noel’s fantasies of living the high life and moving to France, Ocean’s dream of being the prime minister of Canada, of Mischa’s love in Ukraine waiting for him to visit one day? It was Penny’s job to make sure those were never forgotten, to ensure no one would ever mark them down as John or Jane. Not like how she was. Even if they weren’t alive, they live on through her memory– as fuzzy as it was.
“I’ll get a nurse in here soon, try not to shift around too much, it could disrupt the mending process.” As if she could move to begin with, going to the bathroom was such a pain when you were as stiff as board and your leg was slung in a cast. Penny also didn't want to bother the nurse in setting up a wheelchair just to take her into the next room and back, and with the added hassle of getting her out of the hospital bed to begin with. She had hardly begun to heal from the Cyclone, and if she wasnt on painkillers, her body would be screaming at her, hot flashes of pain spreading throughout her body that would make her too overstimulated. So no bathroom breaks.
Ocean would’ve told her that’s an easy way to develop kidney stones, or to get a bladder infection. Penny would agree.
The doctor had long since exited the room, leaving Penny alone once more. She turned her head the best she could to stare at the small overbed table that was stationed right next to her. It had very little belongings on it, just an empty lunch tray that she hardly touched since she didn't like the texture of the jello or the cold mushy mashed potatoes. Her dolly also sat atop the white plastic top, its head was missing and some of the porcelain had cracked and broken off, the white frilly dress was slightly torn and a stain of blood coated the hem of the dress.
Penny had gotten used to the sight of the shattered toy, but when she had first learnt of its condition she started panicking, eyes filling with tears at her most prized possession being destroyed. She had forgotten where she first received her dolly, but she just knew it was important to her. Apparently it was with her in the crash, it was a miracle only the head was gone. (Though it had wound up being replaced with Penny’s head in the warehouse). No longer could she run her fingers through the blonde ringlets for comfort, but having it with her still brought her some peace.
Ahead of the overbed table was a mirror that stretched from the beginning of a shelf to just below the edge of the wall, giving her a clear view of herself and what was behind her. At first she was startled by her appearance, the brunette hair that was messy and tousled compared to the neat braids in the picture the hospital had shown her from the yearbook. She was also lacking green eyes, instead her gaze was met with hazel. Penny had always liked the color green, like with other things, she didn't know where this fascination came from.
She had a sharp jawline with blotchy freckles that reminded her of Ocean’s, Ocean always had such lovely green eyes. Penny was tall, around 5 '7 the medics had mentioned, not as tall as Mischa was but certainly higher than Noel or Ocean. Ricky would've been the tallest if he didnt need crutches to support his body, his full height would've been around 6 ‘0. Anything else she could inspect about herself was covered in white wrappings and braces, too bruised to really get a good picture of the girl she once was.
Jane remembered a mirror that had been in the warehouse, it was cracked down the middle and it was the type that distorted your features for a funhouse. When they had downtime from the singing and dancing, she’d stare at herself, her pitch black eyes looking back at a girl she didn't recognize. Of course she recognized the blonde curls of her doll’s hair that was now her makeshift head, but that hardly gave her a clue on what she actually looked like.
Penny hardly remembered her time as Jane, which in retrospective, worked both ways. Just the major things had crossed over with her when she entered the light.
Blinking a few times, she turned away from the mirror, not wanting to stare at herself any longer. The clock on the door read 4:37 PM, the last time she had checked, it was 4:30 PM. “The nurse is gone.” She repeated out loud, her voice scratchy, “Gone. Late. Where is she?” Saying things to herself helped her process things better, usually that also prompted someone to respond to her, though that meant she blurted things out without being asked to. No one responded, however, she was alone in a hospital bed. Waiting for whichever medical professional who was supposed to watch over her to enter. Penny didn't like being alone, not anymore.
“These Canadian doctors are pathetic, leaving patient who is in critical condition to fester like open wound; no treatment.”
“Quit talking, someone might hear you!”
“We are dead you little Orphan A-hole, who is going to hear us?”
“She looks so miserable, I can't imagine how she's feeling.”
Despite living in a colony full of hippies, especially one where they grew marijuana, Penny had never been high before. Though it must've been something in the painkillers, because when she saw Mischa, Ocean, and Constance poke their heads through the doorframe of the room she was staying in, she must've been hallucinating. There was a wad of metal sticking out of Ocean’s stomach, Constance's head was coated with blood, and Mischa’s limbs twisted unnaturally when he walked.
“Look at her, she looks like she’s seen a ghost!”
Mischa paused to laugh at his own joke with Constance giving a few hesitant giggles as well, the blood on her face dripping ever so slightly onto the collar of her button up shirt, but when they saw how Penny kept on staring at the three like it was some horrible car crash you couldn't look away from; the laughing had stopped.
“She can't actually see us right?” Constance whispered.
“No, no, pretty sure she is just dissociating, common occurrence.” Though Mischa didn't sound too confident in his words, quickly coughing into his right hand that was more so angled like the one on his left.
Ocean was the one to make the first move, slowly tiptoeing across the room and over to Penny’s right on the hospital bed. Her gaze had followed the ginger all the way to the spot she is now standing in, and when Ocean waved her hand across Penny’s face, the girl blinked. “She can see us.” She called out loudly to the other two as if Penny herself was the invisible one. Ocean turned back towards the brunette, her curious green eyes (which were now a pale blue) looked down upon the hospitalized girl.
“I see dead people.” She looked up, bewildered.