Seekers

Chapter 12

Dead. That was how he felt. And a stabbing headache. And horrendous pains in his arm and leg, and- everywhere. He literally hurt everywhere. Could he move? He tried to lift his arm. Nope. He sighed, still lying face-down in the dirt. It was cold, but he could feel a ray of sunshine- the first oof the sunrise. In a little while day would break. His eyes fluttered shut. He could feel his body starting to shut down, searching for sleep, or . . . No. He shook his head-or tried to, anyway. It didn’t really work.

He managed to roll over, groaning when he accidentally landed on his arm. He looked around through heavy-lidded eyes. The trucks were gone. He didn’t see anyone around. The sun was just coming up, and light was starting to shine on him. He layed his head back down, and sighed. His ears rang. He couldn’t move.  What was he going to do?

He rolled back over, groaning in pain. Then he took a deep breath and pushed himself up, to his knees. He had to bite his tongue to keep quiet. He brought his legs up, one at a time, and finally he was on his feet. He tested out his leg by taking a step. Crap. He stumbled, and almost fell over. He regained his balance, and started walking. It was slow and wobbly, but it was progress.

I just have to keep moving, he thought. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again.

So he began  the slow jurney back to the base. He made it through the entrance, and took a right, choosing to go behind the buildings an streets, taking as hidden a path as he could. The last thing he wanted was to get out alive only too be shot again.

He didn’t know how long he walked for, it all passed before him in a daze. His eyes were unfocused and his vision swam, he couldn’t think straight but he knew he was thirsty, really thirsty. He started to feel weak. He saw a building and headed toward it, sliding down until he sat at the base of it. He layed his head back and wondered whether he should sleep or not.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Thomas jerked awake with a start, finding an old man yelling at him in Turkish. Tom didn’t know what the man was saying, but the gestures were obvious enough.

“I can’t move,” he said. “Can you help?”

The man paused, mid sentence. “English?” he asked.

Tom nodded.

“What you doing here? This is store, not bed!”

“I’m hurt,” Thomas said slowly. “Do you have a car? Can you take me to a hospital, or something?”

The man looked at him through narrowed eyes. “What is hurt?”

Everything,  Thomas wanted to say. “My arm, and my leg.” His ears still rang, too.

“Walk?” the man asked.

“I can barely stand,” Thomas replied, looking at the man pleadingly.

The man paused, then nodded once, seeming to make up his mind. “There is one car around back. I will halp you.” Then, he turned and went off without another word. Thomas leaned his head back, and waited.

Within a few minutes he heard an engine, and then an old Toyota pickup came running up the street, and rumbled to a stop in front oof the building. Thomas almost laughed at the sight; he had a friend back home with a truck just like that one.

The old man got out and offered Toom his hand. Then, rethinking it, went up to him and pulled him up, sliding him up the wall. Tom put his arm around the man’s shoulders, and the man lead him to the truck.

The man put the truck in gear and they drove off. “My name,” he said, “is Akkuş. Your name?”

“Thomas, but people just call me Tom.”