Escaping Paradise

After Impact

I awkwardly opened one eye as a fuzzy blur stood over me.

“Y’ah know, son…d’er ‘re eas’er way ter keel y’urself dan jumpin’ outta a plane wit’ no para-chute.” The figure was obviously an older, famer-type gentleman with a cocky mouth. I would have returned with some equally smartass comment, if my jaw wasn’t dislodged and biting my cheek. The man also must have been a war veteran because he had no problem scooping up my mangled form and carrying me off to the hospital.

“Lucky ter be alive,” he mumbled to himself as one of my arms hung awkwardly against his body, my hand brushing his crotch every other step. If my windpipe wasn’t crushed into my spine, I would have screaming in pain telling him otherwise. It was pointless taking me to a doctor, I’d be right as rain in a few days, but I wouldn’t argue if they pumped me full of pain killers in the meantime. He threw a horse blanket in the back of an old pickup and carefully placed me on top, probably didn’t want me bleeding all over is truck bed. The whole truck shook as he climbed in and slammed the door. I stared dazed at the sky as the vehicle lurched forward sending my head lolling from side to side. A wave of nausea came over me, but I couldn’t tell where my stomach was so I wasn’t sure what I would throw up even if I could.

It was hard to count the passing minutes because every bump in the road sent my broken body jostling about and my mind spinning. The road finally evened out and I was finally able to see straight. It was a perfect day. The sky was a crystal blue and there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. The breeze that rushed around me, rustling up dead leaves and clumps of dirt in the back of the truck, was cool taking away the burning heat from the sun. I wish I could have enjoyed it more, but the excruciating pain that pulsed though my body wouldn’t let me. I realized that I had already started healing when I was able to take my first breath. I immediately wished that it was still being crushed into my shattered spine. Air rushed down my throat and into my collapsed lungs. I tried to cough, but wasn’t able to because of the lack of air in my lungs and I started convulsing. What body parts that could, were twitching violently as blood spurted from my lips and leaving hot wet marks on my face and good eye.

I blinked as my vision reddened and blood rushed into my mouth. Oh, how I wished I could die. The small back window on the truck slid open and I was bombarded with the typical country twangs most stereotypes would expect from this man. A rush of smoke, that had been building up inside, streamed out and filled my lungs. This only made my jerking movements even more violent as my muscles reconnected.

“How ya’ doin’ back der, son? Shtill kickin?” The man chuckles at his own joke and doesn’t seem to notice my current condition. Despite my convulsions, my legs were lying useless and twisted. Once again, I was unable to response due to my current condition. He glanced back and slammed on the breaks. I rolled over, broken nose pressed to the truck bed, as the blood rushed from my mouth. He mumbled something about ‘hurrying up’ under his breath and hit the throttle. I was thrown to my back and slid around as we sped off. As if the condition he found me in was nothing to rush over… A while later, our ride came to an end and once again the truck shook as the man exited. He took my shivering form in his arms and carried me up some steps, where a sliding door offered a cold breeze and granted us access into an emergency room.

“’S’cuse me, miss? Need a liddle help here…” I shuddered and my head lolled to the side and for a moment I caught a glance at the woman on the phone. She looked up to say ‘just a moment’ and I caught sight of the look of shock on her face before all I could see was the long lights on the ceiling. She began shouting franticly and I heard the phone slam against the receiver and hoped it hadn’t been important. The old man turned me as the wheels of a gurney rolled closer and closer. I stared into a waiting room, where two small televisions hung on the wall streaming what poor quality channels they could receive. A small girl that sat in her mother’s arms, turned her head at the sound and looked wide-eyed at me. I wanted to tell her to go back to watching the commercial with the sing puppets, but only managed to blink my non-swollen eye as I coughed sending blood spurting onto the floor and running up my face. She gave me a very worried look and clung to her mother more tightly. My head suddenly jerked upright and she disappeared as a nurse helped place me on the gurney.

They strapped my arms and legs down, but I wasn’t sure why, since it was my torso that was freaking out. A nurse stood over my shoulder talking into my ear as another to the side spoke to the doctor who had appeared at the other side. I tried to concentrate on what everyone was saying, but as my nerves began reattaching themselves, the pain just got worse and worse. I tried to ask for some morphine or anything to make it stop, but no one noticed my attempt to speak. Finally my wish was granted and they held my jaw in place, put a mask over my face and watched as the air slowly lulled me to sleep.