Fourteen Below part 9
This one just keeps on chuggin' right along, doesn't it. Notes on translations and pronunciations in Czech at the end of the part.
Previous chapters may be found here or here
She woke up just enough to wonder why it wasn't cold.
At first she thought maybe she wasn't really awake. Then she wondered if she was hallucinating. Because while she could figure out when she clenched one fist over rough sheets and smelled chemicals on the air that she was in a hospital, she had no idea what the voice to her left was saying. It wasn't Czech, and she knew enough Polish to know it wasn't that either. And she didn't think she'd walked far enough for it to be German, but that was the closest she could come for a long moment before her ears woke up enough to pick out individual words. What little she could.
The man on her left was speaking English.
Like most people of her generation, she grew up watching movies and listening to music in English. Not enough to really understand all of it--all the movies had Czech subtitles and all the CDs had liner notes in Czech, too--but enough to recognize the cadence and tone of a worried American accent.
She'd even met an American, once. A traveler when she was on holiday in Croatia with her parents last year. Her school was supposed to get an American teacher, but she was a long way from her school and her parents and the American in Croatia and she had been for a long time now. She couldn't for the life of her (and, she thought, she meant that almost literally) figure out why an American would be sitting by her bedside in a hospital when the last thing she remembered was running as fast as possible away from the demons and the cold.
She concentrated. She'd taken a little more than a year's worth of English lessons before the demons took her and, she thought, if the man would just speak a little bit slower, she could figure out what he was saying.
She could understand the pronouns, heavy on the ‘you', ‘I', and ‘she', and a few of the simpler verbs, like ‘ran' and ‘found' and ‘call', but she didn't know what a ‘willow' was. She knew ‘Andrew' was an American name. She opened her eyes, finally, and turned her head as much as she could with a tube running under her nose, and got her first look at her visitor.
He was talking on a mobile and leaning forward over his knees. He had short hair, the cut and color simple and natural enough that, even without the accent and foreign language, she would have known he wasn't Czech. He wore a long gray coat with a scarf hanging loose over his shoulders, and jeans so worn that they were nearly white. A black strap ran over his eyebrow, and when he shifted slightly, she could see it lead to a black patch over his left eye. She stared at him for a long time while he talked, gesturing with his free hand even though he was only speaking on the phone, and after a few minutes, she finally managed to figure out why he looked a little familiar.
She nearly ran him over on the hill. He'd grabbed her and told her something. Something she'd understood, actually. He'd been talking a lot slower then. He'd said she was okay. She'd understood, but she sure hadn't believed him.
His eye flicked to the side and his eyebrow shot up when he saw her watching him. He said something about ‘willow' again, then said ‘good-bye' and closed his phone. It was a sleek modern model, she noticed, like the one she'd tried to get her mom to buy her just before the demons came. The kind with a camera and an ‘edge card' so you could use it to hook up to the internet. Her mom hadn't gotten it for her because it was too expensive. The man must have been rich.
He smiled at her as he slipped the phone into his pocket. "Hey,"
‘Hey' was a slang term for ‘hello', she remembered. Or maybe he thought she was Swedish (1). "Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
She frowned and reached up to finger the tube under her nose. "Fine," she said, because she'd learned in school that that was what you said when someone asked ‘how are you?'. His smile grew wider as he shook his head. He muttered something she didn't understand. ‘Little mad girl', like he'd said before he'd told her she was okay. But she wasn't angry.
"My name is Xander."
She nodded. He'd said that before, too. She tried to sit up slightly, but then sighed when her body started aching. "My name is Alice." (2)
"Nice to meet you, Alitsah."
She tried to smile, but her face hurt, too. "Alice. In English, you say ‘Alis'."
He tilted his head slightly. "Like the rabbit hole. Got it," he said, as though that made any sense at all. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She shook her head to tell him she didn't understand. His hand touched his eyepatch and he shifted.
"Okay. You're in a hospital."
She rolled her eyes. "Fact jo?" (3)
He tensed and narrowed his eye. "No need to be rude." He shook his head. "We're getting off on the wrong foot."
She frowned and shook her head again. They must have looked like head-shaking freaks. "Which foot is correct foot?"
His head fell forward and he rubbed his hands through his hair. When he looked back up at her, she tried to smile. He closed his eye. "Anglicky?"
They'd been speaking English for ten minutes. What was he, stupid? She switched to Czech, just to spite him. "I speak English better than you apparently speak Czech, so why don't you just get on with it and tell me what the hell you're still doing here? I'm fine, and I'm glad you saved me, but I'm not going to sleep with you and my parents are dead, so you can't get any reward money from them, and if you keep talking to me like I'm dumb I'm going to show you just how smart and strong I can be."
He flinched back from her tone and raised his hands. "Okay, okay, um, pardon, I didn't mean it, sorry!" When he lowered his hands again, he was grinning. "You're definitely a slayer, alright."
She frowned. "What means ‘slayer'?"
His face went slack and he stared at her for a long moment. Then he stood. "Right. I'm going to go see if I can get a dictionary. Just wait here, will you?"
She looked at her IV and then at his back as he walked out the door to her hospital room. "Okay." She leaned back on the pillows and tried to search her memory for what ‘slayer' might mean. "Safraportský." (4)
------
1. In Swedish, the word for 'hello' is 'hej'. It's pronounced as a slightly shortened 'hey'
2. Czech is a phonetic language; the c is pronounced 'ts' and the e is pronounced 'eh'. While the i is usually pronounced 'ee', I've found that with the name Alice, it's shortened almost as much as the American 'ih'.
3. Fact jo? - 'Really?' pronounced 'fuct yo?' When spoken quickly, it's very easy to miss the 't' at the end of 'fact'
4. Safraportský - dumbass (per InterTran)
Previous chapters may be found here or here
She woke up just enough to wonder why it wasn't cold.
At first she thought maybe she wasn't really awake. Then she wondered if she was hallucinating. Because while she could figure out when she clenched one fist over rough sheets and smelled chemicals on the air that she was in a hospital, she had no idea what the voice to her left was saying. It wasn't Czech, and she knew enough Polish to know it wasn't that either. And she didn't think she'd walked far enough for it to be German, but that was the closest she could come for a long moment before her ears woke up enough to pick out individual words. What little she could.
The man on her left was speaking English.
Like most people of her generation, she grew up watching movies and listening to music in English. Not enough to really understand all of it--all the movies had Czech subtitles and all the CDs had liner notes in Czech, too--but enough to recognize the cadence and tone of a worried American accent.
She'd even met an American, once. A traveler when she was on holiday in Croatia with her parents last year. Her school was supposed to get an American teacher, but she was a long way from her school and her parents and the American in Croatia and she had been for a long time now. She couldn't for the life of her (and, she thought, she meant that almost literally) figure out why an American would be sitting by her bedside in a hospital when the last thing she remembered was running as fast as possible away from the demons and the cold.
She concentrated. She'd taken a little more than a year's worth of English lessons before the demons took her and, she thought, if the man would just speak a little bit slower, she could figure out what he was saying.
She could understand the pronouns, heavy on the ‘you', ‘I', and ‘she', and a few of the simpler verbs, like ‘ran' and ‘found' and ‘call', but she didn't know what a ‘willow' was. She knew ‘Andrew' was an American name. She opened her eyes, finally, and turned her head as much as she could with a tube running under her nose, and got her first look at her visitor.
He was talking on a mobile and leaning forward over his knees. He had short hair, the cut and color simple and natural enough that, even without the accent and foreign language, she would have known he wasn't Czech. He wore a long gray coat with a scarf hanging loose over his shoulders, and jeans so worn that they were nearly white. A black strap ran over his eyebrow, and when he shifted slightly, she could see it lead to a black patch over his left eye. She stared at him for a long time while he talked, gesturing with his free hand even though he was only speaking on the phone, and after a few minutes, she finally managed to figure out why he looked a little familiar.
She nearly ran him over on the hill. He'd grabbed her and told her something. Something she'd understood, actually. He'd been talking a lot slower then. He'd said she was okay. She'd understood, but she sure hadn't believed him.
His eye flicked to the side and his eyebrow shot up when he saw her watching him. He said something about ‘willow' again, then said ‘good-bye' and closed his phone. It was a sleek modern model, she noticed, like the one she'd tried to get her mom to buy her just before the demons came. The kind with a camera and an ‘edge card' so you could use it to hook up to the internet. Her mom hadn't gotten it for her because it was too expensive. The man must have been rich.
He smiled at her as he slipped the phone into his pocket. "Hey,"
‘Hey' was a slang term for ‘hello', she remembered. Or maybe he thought she was Swedish (1). "Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
She frowned and reached up to finger the tube under her nose. "Fine," she said, because she'd learned in school that that was what you said when someone asked ‘how are you?'. His smile grew wider as he shook his head. He muttered something she didn't understand. ‘Little mad girl', like he'd said before he'd told her she was okay. But she wasn't angry.
"My name is Xander."
She nodded. He'd said that before, too. She tried to sit up slightly, but then sighed when her body started aching. "My name is Alice." (2)
"Nice to meet you, Alitsah."
She tried to smile, but her face hurt, too. "Alice. In English, you say ‘Alis'."
He tilted his head slightly. "Like the rabbit hole. Got it," he said, as though that made any sense at all. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She shook her head to tell him she didn't understand. His hand touched his eyepatch and he shifted.
"Okay. You're in a hospital."
She rolled her eyes. "Fact jo?" (3)
He tensed and narrowed his eye. "No need to be rude." He shook his head. "We're getting off on the wrong foot."
She frowned and shook her head again. They must have looked like head-shaking freaks. "Which foot is correct foot?"
His head fell forward and he rubbed his hands through his hair. When he looked back up at her, she tried to smile. He closed his eye. "Anglicky?"
They'd been speaking English for ten minutes. What was he, stupid? She switched to Czech, just to spite him. "I speak English better than you apparently speak Czech, so why don't you just get on with it and tell me what the hell you're still doing here? I'm fine, and I'm glad you saved me, but I'm not going to sleep with you and my parents are dead, so you can't get any reward money from them, and if you keep talking to me like I'm dumb I'm going to show you just how smart and strong I can be."
He flinched back from her tone and raised his hands. "Okay, okay, um, pardon, I didn't mean it, sorry!" When he lowered his hands again, he was grinning. "You're definitely a slayer, alright."
She frowned. "What means ‘slayer'?"
His face went slack and he stared at her for a long moment. Then he stood. "Right. I'm going to go see if I can get a dictionary. Just wait here, will you?"
She looked at her IV and then at his back as he walked out the door to her hospital room. "Okay." She leaned back on the pillows and tried to search her memory for what ‘slayer' might mean. "Safraportský." (4)
------
1. In Swedish, the word for 'hello' is 'hej'. It's pronounced as a slightly shortened 'hey'
2. Czech is a phonetic language; the c is pronounced 'ts' and the e is pronounced 'eh'. While the i is usually pronounced 'ee', I've found that with the name Alice, it's shortened almost as much as the American 'ih'.
3. Fact jo? - 'Really?' pronounced 'fuct yo?' When spoken quickly, it's very easy to miss the 't' at the end of 'fact'
4. Safraportský - dumbass (per InterTran)