Deckard

17.

Life After Death

Before I even opened my eyes, I was assaulted with the putrid aroma that run down, unsanitary, hospitals had. It had my nose scrunching up in hopes of diminishing the smell; a futile attempt. I hesitated when opening my eyes, the onslaught of the dim lights that illuminated the darkroom made my head spin. Unaccustomed to the light. My ears were picking up the rattling breathing of whoever had been placed to my right on the makeshift hospital ward. The person to my left is unusually quiet. Deathly quiet.

My back and chest ached. Painfully ached and screamed in protest as I tried to move my toes. My toes were unwilling to cooperate as I let out a frustrated gasp of air. The pain suddenly began building. Moving faster than a tsunami from my mid-back to pinpoint right in the centre of my shoulders and forward across my ribs as my breathing elevated.

"Ah!" I cried, gritting my teeth as I tried to control my breathing and prevent my ribs from moving; my obviously broken ribs.

"Stop moving!" A middle-aged, male, nurse shouted in Greek as he entered the three-bed ward. His uniform crinkled and covered in some bodily fluid from a previous patient as he made his way to my bedside. I cringed away at the fact that this nurse needed to attended an infection prevention course by the state of his clothes. "You'll make it worse,"

"I know!" I spat back in his language as I squeezed my eyes shut, "I need something for the pain....please," the nurse frowning at me as I demanded medication to stop this torture. I couldn't feel below my waist, but my ribs and back were giving me hell right now.

"One moment," he smiled grimly, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the person to my left who still lay un-moving. He quickly pulled the makeshift, tattered curtain around the body before he moved off.

I attempted to lift my left arm, in the aim of brushing my tattered hair from my face but was met with a screaming pain between my shoulders and an ugly looking cast moulded from my hand up to my elbow. "For fúcks sake, man," I groaned out as I attempted to get a little more comfortable. Failing miserably.

"Miss, what is your name?" The nurse returned with a clip board in had. I opened my mouth to give him my maiden name, Turner. When I suddenly changed my mind, "Megan Shaw, Mrs Shaw," I didn't want to hide anymore.

"Thank you. Anyone you would like us to contact?" My mind began racing at the fact that Deckard was all alone. He would be heartbroken and probably wallowing in the dark at home. He's lost without me.

"My husband," I quickly give him a number that I know Deckard will answer.

To my dismay, the nurse returns with some medication to ease the pain and informing me that there was no answer,

"Give me your phone," I demand rudely. The nurse raising his eyebrow at me with my coy attitude, "Please, I'll try another number," He hesitantly hands the phone over into my seemingly uninjured right hand.

Quickly I dial a familiar number. Holding it up to my ear and turning the volume down so the nurse couldn't hear; even when my shoulder screamed in agony at the motion. The phone juts rang, and rang, and rang. It eventually cut out as the number didn't have a voice mail.

I tried a different number I knew Deckard had. That too, rang, and rang, and rang, before cutting off.

Rage began boiling my blood. I could imagine him sitting with his head in his hands and watching the phones ring; but not having the energy to pick them up. I know because I would be the same.

So I rang a third mobile number. The last one I knew Deckard would have on him. I could see the nurse growing impatient at the amount of unanswered calls I was making. This one no different. Grumbling to myself, I pulled the phone away from the expecting hand of the nurse. Having had enough of my phone calls,

"Just one more!" I say, putting the phone up to my ear. Thankfully, this one is answered.

"Get your brother to answer the phone!" I spit, through the receiver.

"Well, lovely to hear from you too, Megan. But why should I play messenger boy. I haven't spoken to him in years," I could  hear the smug little smirk Hattie Shaw would be wearing on her flawless face, "and frankly I don't want to."

Hattie and I had a strange relationship. In fact, all the relationships I had with the Shaw family were catastrophic. Owen and I just ripped the shít into each other every waking moment we could; Magdalene often treated me as an asset to her mastermind plans; and Hattie, well we kept in touch to make sure the other was still alive for mother-in-law's sake.

"Look, just somehow get him to pick up the damn phone or call this number back." I sigh as I break the news of the horrid state her brother will be in when she eventually contacts him, "He thinks I'm dead, Hattie. The last time I saw him I was thrown out of a plane without a parachute,"

It was silent for a pregnant moment, "You're just one tough bítch to kill aren't you," and with that she hung up. Chuckling painfully to myself, I handed the phone back to the nurse. Red hot agony racing across my ribs at the small chuckle.

"Thank you," I smiled before asking where I was. Which was just south of Athens after having been picked up by a fishing boat and taken to shore.

I just hummed in response, before closing my fatigued eyes. I knew Hattie would get Deckard a message, so now, I just had to wait for him to track down the location of the nurse's phone and rescue me.

Be my knight in shining armour.