Enoch's Ghost by Bryan Davis Page A

toward the side of the bed, but a new voice interrupted his plan.
    “Where are you going, Ichabod?”
    Timothy jerked his head around, expecting to see a nurse with the same ebony skin he had seen on the boy, but a young white woman smiled at him from the door, her blonde tresses draped over green scrubs. With bright eyes and smooth, radiant skin, her joy dressed her face with beauty.
    Timothy settled back in the bed, smiling. “You caught me trying to get up.”
    “ Caught you?” She gave him a blank stare. “I think you are too big for catching.”
    He gazed at her expression. Was she joking, or did she really not understand? She was either a great actress or completely clueless. He massaged his thighs, trying to get his circulation going. “I guess a doctor has to make sure it’s okay for me to stand.”
    “Your guess is correct.” She strode to his bedside and pulled a multicolored leaf from her pocket. Pinching the stem in her fingers, she dangled it over his face. The yellow near the bottom tip slowly changed to orange, while the red near the top changed to green. “Your energy flow is slightly below normal, Ichabod, but, other than that, your vital signs are perfect.” She returned the leaf to her pocket. “We were never able to find your companion, so it’s no wonder you were out for so long. Most of us thought you couldn’t possibly survive without it.”
    “My companion? What are you talking about? And why do you call me Ichabod?”
    “That’s the name the Prophet gave you.” She laid a cool hand on his forehead. “You must have amnesia. If you can’t remember your companion, you must have taken a terrible blow to your brain.”
    “My first name is Timothy. But I don’t remember a last name or much of anything else. I guess I must have banged my head pretty hard if I can’t even remember that I had a … a companion.” He glanced at a ring on his finger, a gold band with an embedded white gem. Could it be a wedding ring? Maybe. But it was on the wrong hand. “If I do have a companion, I don’t know what happened to her.”
    “A companion is not a ‘her.’” She bracketed her hands in front of her chest as if holding an invisible grapefruit-sized ball. Her palms radiated a white glow that passed across the gap between her hands. A translucent egg appeared, slightly smaller than a hen’s egg, almost ghostlike and floating in midair.
    “An ovulum!” Timothy whispered.
    She lowered her head and peered at him through the egg. “That’s what the Prophet sometimes calls them. We just call them companions, because that’s what they are.”
    “‘Ovulum’ just popped into my mind. I don’t know what it is.”
    She separated her hands, and the ovulum faded, but its outline remained, barely detectable and floating without any visible means of propulsion. “The Prophet has a special, stationary one he calls ‘Enoch’s Ghost’ that he keeps on a table at his home, but ours are smaller and mobile.” The companion zipped up to her shoulder and perched there, rocking back and forth. “Clearly you remember something about them, or you would not have known its name.”
    “I can still see it on your shoulder,” Timothy said, pointing. “It was invisible before.”
    “It has always been visible.” She glanced at the strange lamp hanging from the ceiling. “Sometimes the lighting makes it hard to see.”
    Timothy shut his eyes. There were just too many new and odd surroundings to figure out. Had he been abducted by aliens, or was this the most vivid nightmare in history? “I must be dreaming,” he said. “Or else I’m losing my mind.”
    He felt her fingers comb through his hair, stopping at a spot near the top of his head. A slight twinge of pain blended in with the soothing sensation. “When we first found you, there was quite a lump right here, so it’s no wonder your memory is impaired.”
    “How long have I been here? And where is here , anyway?”
    She laughed gently. “The