ROOM 211

PART SIX

7.

Plop ... plop ... plop ... plop ...

He wakes to an incomplete darkness and to a cold echoing plopping sound coming from somewhere with a distant feel, but also somewhere close enough it can be easily heard. The place is so quiet, other than that plopping sound of course, that if a pin were to fall then it too could be easily heard, so wherever this place is, whatever this place is, the simplest of sounds could easily appear enhanced.

Yeah, this place is dark; it is not a total darkness but it dark enough. He is lying on his back on a concrete floor with his head resting on perhaps a jacket for a pillow. He attempts to move but his head, his head hurts ...badly. He has to take himself a moment or two before he can even think about trying to get up again.

Something else echoes for a moment, a moment no longer than perhaps three or four seconds. It is a faraway sound, and it is odd that it also sounds nearby. It is a dog's bark, a double echoing bark, belonging to a Great Dane or a Doberman perhaps. He attempts to lift up his head to see what he might see and for the briefest of moment it is there as if it were on top of him.

'Ah ...' he screams closing his eyes in fear of what is happening and as if by closing his eyes he can make it go away.

The barking has stopped as has any movement. He opens his eyes; it has gone away, for there is no dog and there is not much of anything else but an echoing plop ... plop ... plop. No dog here, though there is one ... somewhere ... just not here. How most unusual all this is.

The next echoing sound is one he creates himself; it is a groan of pain for he feels an excruciating pain travel through his head, a sudden brain kind of pain. He brings both his hands to his head in an attempt to calm that head pain.

A few seconds or so pass and another sound soon fills this room, this place, whatever it is, wherever it is, a sound much louder than the plopping, longer lasting than the barking or any groan or scream he has released.

The new echoing sound is that of a phone ringing. It is a mobile phone ringing with a traditional tone and the phone itself is also on the ground and it is about ten feet or so off to his left. With how he feels he does not want to move. He has yet to find out as to if he is in any way hurt and is yet to find out as to if the pain he feels, is only head related.

Things may not be clear though one thing that is clear is that he is in trouble. Is he a prisoner? Has he been attacked? In this moment there is no way of knowing so he needs to answer that phone. He reaches out, stretching out as far as he can though that reach falls short, quite short. The phone continues to ring.

There are no shackles or chains, no rope, nothing which physical restrains him therefore he is free to move. He does move. He moves his whole body over an inch at a time and the coldness of the ground sends a chill right through him. For all his efforts it would appear that luck has completely abandoned him, run away in the opposite direction for the very moment in which he reaches the phone, it stops ringing. He grabs it anyway and falls back into the position he woke in, having since crouched up ever so slightly.

The exertion of reaching the phone has left him slightly breathless so while still flat on his back he takes a moment to catch himself. Before he can even begin to consider this place, the phone, or the situation he is in, the phone rings again. Having managed to reach it as the first ring ended, this time the call is surely and quickly answered for once he had reached the phone, he had not let it go.

'Hello ...' he speaks, his pain evident in that one word he says.

'Am I speaking with a Doctor Archer?' speaks an unfamiliar voice.