|A Killer Call (standard:drama, 1413 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: Oct 28 2006||Views/Reads: 1835/1064||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A young man makes a call on his cell phone while driving...|
Killer Call Gaining consciousness I feel the soft, warm sensation of a hand, holding mine. I see her shape leaning in on me, see her brown hair and hazel eyes; kindly eyes that tell me she's smiling her reassurance beneath the white mask covering her nose and mouth. “You're okay; Harry, you've been involved in a car accident but you're going to be fine, just try and remain calm,” and she gives the back of my hand a gentle rub. “Accident? I'm saying to myself...what accident?” I hear her voice repeating itself in my head. She sounds ‘out there' somewhere, the echo of her voice hollow and distant, yet she's right here, right at my side, holding my hand. I try sensing pain but feel only numbness...paralysed? As if acutely aware I'm beginning to panic the nurse grips my hand reassuringly. “You're trembling, we've given you a little something to help you relax, okay? You might feel slightly panicked, maybe not feel your legs, but everything is as it should be, do you understand?” It isn't exactly understood but I nod anyway. Try as I might I cannot feel any sensation in my legs, just the warmth of her hand holding mine. This nice woman...this nurse...is telling me that everything is okay, no need to panic, just be calm. Nevertheless, a coldness descends upon me. “Harry,” she says, sounding out there somewhere... “Harry, do you hear me?” I open my eyes. “We have someone who wants to ask you a few questions, do you feel up to it?” I feel afraid, numb, and cold; yet able to answer questions... if only that it might take my mind off the concern I have for the lack of feeling in my legs. “Sure, I think I'm okay. I am okay, aren't I?” “Of course you are, Harry, just relax, I'll be right here the whole time.” She beckons a man over with a movement of her head. I grip her hand with my fingers. “Hello Mr. Schofield, I'm sorry to see you this way. The nurse tells me you're doing okay, out of danger. That's good. I'm afraid I have to ask you some questions,” “I can't feel my legs, do you know that?” The nurse chimes in, this time stroking my head as she speaks. “You will, Harry, you will, I promise you, a few minutes more, that's all and your legs will be fine. Please relax and just answer the policeman's questions.” Policeman? Damn, yes, he's a policeman! He even looks like one now I see his blue jacket, his helmet tucked under his right arm. A shrink of cool enters my stomach. “Do you remember anything of the accident, Mr. Schofield?” He asks, looking down at his notebook, pencil poised. “No, sir, I don't.” “Do you recall leaving home?” I'm so conscious of having no feeling in my lower body I can hardly think straight. “No, I'm afraid I don't.” I reply. “You do know who you are, correct?” He asks, not raising his head. “Harry Schofield, yes, Harry Richard Schofield.” “And your address, sir?” Click here to read the rest of this story (121 more lines)
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