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offered. She seemed satisfied with his answer, so he continued. ‘‘What exactly happened? I think, I’m pretty sure, we got hit by lightning.’’
    She nodded, wiped at another tear on her cheek. ‘‘I don’t know why you have to go out there all the time. What’s so interesting about those woods?’’
    Jude waited.
    She exhaled, nodded again. ‘‘Okay. Yes, it was lightning. Kevin said . . . well, he said it melted your pack, knocked off your shoes.’’
    Jude nodded slightly, then tried to wiggle his toes. They moved. He fought the urge to peel away the sheet and look at them.
    ‘‘So he got you down to the end of the trail, flagged down help from some guys loading up horses, and they brought you here to the hospital.’’
    ‘‘How long ago?’’ he wondered. At first, he was sure he had only thought it, but his mom answered.
    ‘‘About three hours. You were, clinically, you know . . .’’
    ‘‘Dead.’’
    ‘‘Yes. They tried CPR and machines and everything. The doctor I talked to said you were probably killed instantly.’’
    She sobbed a little bit, and Jude waited patiently for her to regain control.
    ‘‘Did they send me to . . . the morgue?’’
    She shook her head, seeming relieved. ‘‘No, but they were getting ready. One of the nurses was cleaning the room, and you just suddenly, um, I guess you just moved.’’
    Jude smiled. ‘‘Probably scared her into next Tuesday.’’
    His mom put on another pained smile. ‘‘I think they let her go home early.’’
    After his mother left, Jude lay back and stared at the ceiling, thinking. Trying to remember. Wondering. Soon his head felt like one big abscessed tooth in need of a root canal.
    He raised the hospital bed to an upright position, then fumbled with the attached remote control. He turned on the television and flipped through a few channels until he came to a local newscast. A reporter was standing outside the local hospital. He let his finger hover over the channel button a few moments, wondering what the story at the hospital was about.
    ‘‘In a unique twist, the young man struck by lightning was involved in a separate drowning accident eight years ago,’’ the reporter said.
    Jude felt blood rushing in his face. Of course. He was the story at the hospital. He hadn’t really thought about it, but if he’d now died and come back to life twice, well, that made him like a human lottery ticket. What were the chances? Jude found the volume button on the remote and pressed it.
    ‘‘According to the experts we consulted, this young man may be the first repeat survivor of a near-death experience. And so Jude Allman, now a patient here at St. Francis, is also a local celebrity.’’
    ‘‘Time for your dinner.’’
    Jude jumped. He hadn’t seen or heard the nurse come into his room.
    ‘‘Sorry,’’ she said, acknowledging his startled look. ‘‘Guess I have a way of sneaking up on people.’’
    ‘‘ ’Sokay.’’ He watched her as she set plates and platters in front of him. She was pretty, almost exotic in some way.
    Maybe that was what he needed to pound down this splitting headache: a bit of food. Hospital food, which mostly consisted of cold mush or warm mush, wasn’t his first choice. But his stomach rumbled a welcome anyway.
    On the television, the camera revealed a crowd of people outside the hospital. Not a throng of thousands, to be sure. But there were a good hundred or so, which represented a fair percentage of Bingham, Nebraska. Signs dotted the crowd, including one held by someone he recognized: Kim Oakley, his dream girl, holding a placard that read Get well soon, Jude . He smiled, half wondering if Kevin had put her up to it.
    The scene cut to the reporter interviewing Kevin.
    ‘‘So you knew it was lightning right away?’’ the reporter asked Kevin.
    ‘‘I don’t think we both got hit. I think Jude took the hit, and, I don’t know, the blast or something knocked me down.’’
    ‘‘And