The Unfortunate Ride

Chapter 14

02/08/2017. Garcia's Apartment, Virginia. 10:18 hours.

Penelope blinked several times as her vision swam back into focus. Her back and right shoulder ached from the position she had fallen asleep in against the sofa. With a soft groan, she eased herself up. She smacked her lips and opened her eyes fully to see that Spencer was no longer on the sofa beside her. Penelope straightened her spectacles on her nose and glanced around, a pit of worry in her stomach. Spencer was seated on the floor on the opposite side of the lounge, his legs straight out in front of him in a teddy bear pose. The duffel bag was open between his legs and he dug ferociously with his good hand through the belongings. Penelope's stomach did back flips as she noted he was unravelling his clothing, more-so, what was left of them. Spencer looked up, his hair draped over his face.

"These are my things?" asked Spencer as he returned to the bag. His fingers found his revolver. He carefully set the firearm down beside him and continued to dig. His credentials followed the revolver. Spencer tugged remnants of his bloodied violet shirt and dress trousers out of the bag. Penelope swallowed nervously as the man held them up and stared at her.

"What happened to these?" asked Spencer slowly as if talking to a petulant child.

"They had to cut them off you, Spence. You had to be sedated in trauma so that they could scan you." Spencer raised an eyebrow and mouthed a silent 'O' as he pushed the tattered remains of his clothing back into the bag, "Spencer? What're you looking for?" Spencer pointed at his credentials and his firearm, "Why?" asked Penelope. Spencer sighed and looked up at her. His eyes looked lost.

"Because if I don't have these, then I don't feel like any part of the old me truly exists." Penelope eased herself onto her knees and slowly crawled over to Spencer. He half-heartedly threw the bag into the corner, narrowly missing a statue of a Buddha.

"Of course you still exist, sweet cheeks."

"Do I? I feel like the train took that away from me. What happened? Why did the train derail? I have so many questions going round and round in my head." Spencer pressed his trembling palm to his sweaty forehead.

"All I know is that it was a mechanical failure." Spencer gave a small laugh.

"Of course it was." Spencer gritted his teeth and winced in pain as he tried to shift his left leg. He glanced down at the bandages poking out from the bottom of his trousers to find blood and green pus seeping through the linen. His leg throbbed with every pulse. Penelope edged closer and sat down next to Spencer's injured leg, her legs crossed underneath her. She pointed a pink nail at his leg.

"You want me to take a look at that?" Spencer slowly lifted his eyes from the soiled bandages to Penelope's face as though he was trying to read her every micro expression. Penelope smiled softly back at him. Beads of cold sweat trickled down the sides of Spencer's face. Penelope reached out a hand to Spencer's face, making him draw back slightly, eyes fixed to the intruding appendage. Penelope pressed the back of her hand to Spencer's forehead. His skin felt like it was on fire and he was shivering.

"You're running a fever, sweetie. I think we need to get you back to the hospital."

"No! Just get a doctor to make a home visit. I can't go back in there." Penelope was startled by Spencer's outburst. She knew he was stubborn but he was clearly very unwell. He had rolled up his trouser leg and started to pick at the tape holding the bandage in place, muttering incoherently to himself. Penelope frowned.

"Spencer? What're you doing?"

"Bugs... I need to get them out..."

"Bugs? Spence? There's no bugs there." Spencer shook his head wildly as he unravelled the bandages with quivering fingers. The bandages fell away to reveal a dressing clinging desperately to crimson, almost purple, shining skin. Blood and pus leaked out of the sides of the dressing. Penelope felt nauseated at the sight. Spencer carefully peeled the dressing away, biting his bottom lip to quell a scream of agony. Each movement felt like a red hot poker piercing his limb. Penelope clamped a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened at the partially gaping wound. Curiously, Spencer started to prod at the wound with the tip of his finger.

"Hey, you're right. No bugs..." Spencer's words slurred as his eyes darted around, unfocussed. His mouth opened and closed as though he were a fish out of water. Penelope edged closer.

"Spencer?"

"Penelope? I think.. I can't... Everything's going dark..." Penelope gently laid the man before her down on the floor. His Adam's apple bobbed as he continued to mumble. Penelope dragged a cushion from the sofa and eased Spencer's head up and nestled the cushion underneath. Spencer's curls splayed on the floor. He reached a hand up to her, "Penelope? I can't see..." Spencer's eyelids fluttered before falling shut. Shallow breaths past his parted lips. Penelope quickly tugged her cell phone out of her pocket and dialled a number. She held her phone to her ear and turned away slightly, her palm resting on the unconscious man's stomach.

"911. What's your emergency?"

"Ambulance, please..."

02/08/2017. Penelope's Apartment, Virginia. 10:30 hours.

Bright white light. Spencer wondered if he was somewhere between life and death. His limbs felt heavy, anchored down to the soft, fluffy cloud he lay on, drifting aimlessly. Whatever it was, it felt soothing. Spencer smiled. A voice broke his peace.

"His blood pressure and SATs are dropping. We need more fluids going, wide open. Temperature is at 104 degrees. He's going into septic shock." Spencer forced his eyes open into small slits. Paramedics were working either side of him. His breath lightly misted a plastic mask covering his face. He felt as though he had suddenly left his cloud of happiness and was treading through the depths of hell, his body ravaged with fire and agony. He groaned. Penelope loomed over him, her hand gently stroking his hair.

"Shh. It's okay, Spence." Spencer let out a small whimper.

"Let's get him loaded up."

"Can I ride with him?" asked Penelope, her voice quivering. The paramedics nodded as they secured a plastic collar around Spencer's neck and rolled him to his side so that they could insert the back board. Spencer visibly paled as he was turned, bile rising up his throat. A soft voice spoke to him as he felt himself drawn back to his cloud of comfort.

"Stay with us, Spencer..."