The Immortal

New York City. What a town. The city that never sleeps, the Big Apple, it has many names. But for me, it’s home. Well, for now at least. The sights and sounds of it are always different along with the more than eight million people living in it. Sure it’s dirty and crime-ridden but so are most cities in this day and age.

New York has been my home for a little over three years now and with my job at DC Comics, I’m doing very well financially if I do say so myself. I really don’t need to be working at the moment. That’s what happens when you’ve lived as long as I have. Any income at all eventually adds up. And being immortal means I save a hell of a lot of money on life insurance. But I work anyway. It gives me something to do with my time.

I’ve grown accustomed to my daily routine now. Every morning is the same as the last with a few minor changes. Sometimes I’ll have toast for breakfast instead of cereal. Or I’ll walk the few blocks to the office instead of taking the bus. Today was one of the days I felt like walking to work. It was also another day in which I should have died. But I think I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should start from the beginning.

This morning was just like any other morning for me. I woke up, showered, had some breakfast, then rode the elevator to the bottom of the building my apartment was in. My doorman Tom had greeted me with a cheerful ‘good morning’ which I politely returned as I always did and I walked outside to be met by the usual morning traffic jam. Over the sea of yellow taxicabs I could see two cars caught in a fender-bender in the middle of the intersection a ways down the street.

“Some people will never learn to drive.” I sighed to myself as I walked down the sidewalk with the rest of the early morning commuters.

It was finally warm enough outside to do without a jacket and the crisp air felt wonderful against the skin on my arms exposed by the t-shirt I was wearing. With me I carried only my sketchbook and a few pencils in my back pocket along with my cigarettes and lighter. That’s all I really ever needed for work, just pencils and paper. Ah the joys of being an artist. Not having to wear stuffy suits, or carry around a briefcase like most of the men and women walking beside me on the way to their office buildings.

“Mommy can I get a ball today?” A small, brown haired girl asked, stopping to look into the toy store window on the sidewalk.

“No honey come on I have to get you to daycare.” The young woman, obviously her mother said as she led her daughter away from the store window by the hand.

“Are we riding the bus today mommy?” The little girl asked as he mother pulled her along.

“Yes now hurry or we won’t make it.” The woman replied.

“Jimmy’s always five minutes late.” I said before the two passed me on the sidewalk. “You don’t have to run.”

“Oh.” The woman said, stopping to face me on the sidewalk. “Thank you.”

I nodded and continued walking down the sidewalk as the woman and her daughter walked ahead of me towards the bus stop and crosswalk at the end of the street. I eventually caught up with them and I smiled at the woman before continuing to walk straight to the crosswalk. I was about to cross the street when the voice of the little girl stopped me.

“Mommy, Mommy look!” She shrieked excitedly. “A ball!”

Before her mother could even look, or even comprehend what her daughter had just said, the girl pulled out of her mother’s hand and rushed into the middle of the street where sure enough, a small orange rubber ball was sitting.

“Erin no!” The mother cried after her. She made a move to snatch the girl back but missed.

“Don’t worry mommy I’ll get it!” The girl, Erin, exclaimed happily as she went further into the street after the ball.

She was about to pick up the ball when I saw it. Coming down the street at full speed, was a huge eighteen-wheeler semi truck. The traffic light was still green at the moment and the truck showed no signs of stopping. The oblivious driver of the truck couldn’t see the small child in the middle of the road so I did the only logical thing I could think of at that moment. I sprinted into the street and pushed Erin out of the truck’s path onto the sidewalk beside her frantic looking mother. Unfortunately this didn’t leave me any time to get out of the truck’s path as well. This was going to hurt.

Now I had heard and read many things about dying. Some say that there’s a brilliant light people see, or their life seemingly flashes before their very eyes. None of these things happened to me, but then again, I never expected them to. Before I knew it, I woke up to find myself in a hospital bed.

“Oh, ow.” I groaned, holding a hand to my head as I sat up in the clean sterile bed. Sure I couldn’t die, but I could still feel pain.

“Don’t try sitting up.” Someone in the hospital room said. “I just set your ribs.”

I looked up to see a young woman at the foot of my bed, scribbling something down on the white binder in her hands. Her long brown hair was tied up in a loose ponytail and her side-swept bangs fell in her bright green eyes as she continued to write something down in the binder. My guess was that this was most likely my chart. Finishing, she clicked the end of her pen and tucked it in the pocket of her blue scrubs before looking up at me.

“What happened?” I asked groggily, ignoring her order and sitting up in the bed anyway. An act I immediately regretted as a searing pain shot through my chest.

“You were hit by a truck.” She replied bluntly. “Now lay back down before you-”

“No, not me.” I said waving her off. “The girl, Erin. Is she alright?”

“Erin?” She asked looking slightly confused. “Oh, yeah she’s fine.”

I sighed with relief and sat back against my pillows. At least I didn’t jump in front of a truck for nothing.

“That was a very brave thing you did today Mr. Way.” The doctor said as she snapped the binder shut. “Kinda stupid, but brave.”

“Thanks…I think.” I said slowly. “How did you know my name?”

Instead of answering, she reached behind her to pick up what I realized to be my sketchbook off of the small wooden table. Someone must have picked it up for me while I was still unconscious and brought it here. The doctor had probably gotten my name from the drawings inside. I always signed and dated them after I finished them.

“You’ve got quite a talent there.” She said, putting my sketchbook back down on the table. “Do you make your living as an artist Mr. Way?”

“It’s Gerard.” I said.

I had gotten used to the first name Gerard and hadn’t changed it since before Thatch, but Way had only been my surname for a few years now and it was still awkward to be called Mr. Way.

“And yeah, I work for DC.” I said. “Listen, you don’t happen to know where I can find a phone, do you?”

“Sure.” She said as she started walking towards the door. “Is there someone I could call for you like a family member or something?”

“Oh no,” I said grimacing as I tried to adjust my position on the bed. “I just need to call my boss and let him know I’ll be a little late coming into the office today.”

The doctor stopped in her tracks, her Converse sneakers making a squeaking noise against the floor as she turned to give me a disapproving look.

“Mr. Way-” She started.

“Gerard.” I interrupted.

“Gerard,” She said. “This morning you were hit full on by a semi truck. You broke five ribs, fractured three, and your left arm is broken.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

“You also suffered a very serious concussion. “You aren’t going anywhere but that bed today.”

“But I have to-”

“No.” She said firmly, cutting me off before I could finish. “It’s a miracle you’re even alive, let alone able to move.”

“That’s what you think.” I muttered.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Nothing I lied quickly.

She gave me a questioning look before heading back towards the door again.

“I’ll be back in about an hour to check your vitals.” She said before leaving the room.