Country Mike’s whole torso was sticking out of the fifth floor window of Charity Hospital, trying to decide if his cigarette smoke was more tolerable than the muggy New Orleans air while also trying to be aware of the cacophony of buzzes and beeps leaking from the room into the night.

Spider, who was reclining in a hammock made of two hospital sheets tied between George and Buddha’s beds, was flipping through the channels on the hospital TV using a remote mounted on a hand rail.

Tex was sitting at a table under the television poring over medical books.

“Whatcha reading about?” Spider inquired.

“Comas”

“What’s it say about ‘em?”

Country Mike came back in the window and interrupted, “People wake up from ‘em.”

“My dad didn’t.” Silence followed, punctuated by the beeping machines keeping the rhythm of the boys’ lifeforce.

“They’re gonna wake up, boys. I hope.”

“How can you be so certain?”

Country Mike paused, hoping to find the answer, when an idea struck. “Well, remember last year when Buddha fought Ronnie Deshenaux and got that black eye ‘cause Ronnie hit while the teacher was breaking them up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he told him he’d get him back, and what did he do?”

The boys laughed at the memory. “What did he do? Go ahead and tell the story. That’s how we glorify our heroes, we tell their stories.”

Spider filled in, “He broke open his locker and filled his jock strap with Icey Hot. You should have seen him crying! His balls were grapefruits! He was buck naked in the P.E. showers with all the nozzles aimed at his gonads!” They all cracked up as they looked at Buddha lying unconscious in the bed.

“And Tex, what about when George didn’t lock your bike and it got stolen?”

“He sold his Xbox and his trumpet and bought me a new one.” The boys sobered. “What does this have to do with comas?”

“Everything. These boys pay back everyone they owe, good or bad.”

“What do they owe us?” Tex looked sullen.

“Everything. For a genius, you overlook the obvious: love, loyalty, friendship. You boys are a brotherhood.”

“Easy on the love thing,” Spider quipped. “We know you spent a lot of time in prison.” Tex and Spider high-fived.

“Oh! You trying to hit me with trash talk?” Mike laughed. “Plus, Buddha would never die with Spider owing him ten ‘you daddies’.”

As if on cue, George and Buddha both sat up in their beds with a gasp. George swatted at his arms, yelling, “Get ‘em off me!”

“George! It’s over. You’re alright now.” Spider assured him.

Tex pointed to the window. “Mike, the cat.”

Mike spun around like a ninja and slammed the old window closed before the Siamese could jet into the room from the ledge. Buddha’s face went pale. “The cat’s real? I..I thought it..it was a dream. I hoped it was.”

Country Mike snapped, “That cat’s a menace. We are five stories up and the thing gets in here four times a day!”

“Where are we? How did we get here?” George asked.

“Charity Hospital, by ambulance.” Country Mike sat back in a chair and pulled on his boots.

Buddha, getting a hold of himself, said, “I’m starving. Man, do y’all have food?”

“I’ll get you something. I gotta tell the girls y’all are up. They’re downstairs in the lobby,” said Country Mike as he hurried out of the room.

“Did the Saints win?” George asked.

“Yeah, twice.”

“Twice?!” the boys said in unison.

Spider grinned, “Y’all have been here nine days.”

George frowned, “The cat..and room ninety-nine..and the spiders?”

Tex and Spider just nodded.

“What spiders? I hate spiders,” Buddha asked.

“I do, too, now. You slept through that part. I wish I had.” Spider shivered.

Miss Cara ran through the door and hugged Buddha with tears in her eyes before moving on to George. “I am so glad you boys are alright!”

Buddha, who was then enduring a hug from his Mom asked, “Why were we out for so long?”

His Mom granted him reprieve from her smothering affection to answer, “They said a gas line exploded on Magazine street and the doctors believe the hallucinations and your comas were some sort of side effect.”

Jesi stood in the doorway and pushed a strand of her black and red punk rocker hair behind her ear with a smirk as she added, “Yeah, that’s what they told us, a busted gas line.” She nodded her head in a way that let the boys know she didn’t believe that story any more than she believed alien spacecrafts were really weather balloons.

A little later, while everyone was busy calling other concerned parties, Tex said to Buddha, “The doctor who told us the crazy gas main theory had a tattoo on his hand just like yours. Exactly like it.”

“I don’t have a tattoo on my hand.” Mark looked down at his hand where a tarantula tattoo covered the very spot Prince had stabbed him with the hairpin. His Mom saw the boys looking at the tattoo and gave Country Mike an evil glare that would have scared Hulk Hogan.

“I swear, I didn’t do it.” He stepped over to examine Buddha’s hand. “This work is amazing, though.”

Jesi said in the back of the room sarcastically, “True artistry. You can’t see any of the lines or anything; like a photograph. Almost like a real spider just crawled on his hand like Voodoo.”