Written for OLWG# 200
Wait! What? 200? Really? That’s way cool, bitchin’
When ‘Big’ Jim Romero woke, he stayed still in an attempt to determine his whereabouts. He knew he was lying on his back. It felt like there might be a pillow beneath his head and, perhaps he had been covered with a light blanket. He was soaking wet; he was cold, shivering. No sound fell on his ears and, at first, when he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness.
He closed them again and was instantly blinded by oncoming headlights and accosted by the loud roaring of a powerful engine. He lifted his arms upwards to fend off certain death and jerked back. At the last moment, the headlights swerved and left him unscathed. He felt a breeze as the oversized vehicle swept recklessly past.
He gasped and snapped his eyes open. It was still dark, but he sensed a presence, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked again. The hand pressed down.
A voice lightly accented, “Be still, Mr Romero, be still, you’re going to be OK. We were worried about you for a while, but you’re going to be OK.”
Big Jim took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. He only managed a dry cough accompanied by a deeply pitched noise from his throat. He quit pushing upwards and fell back. The hand that had been holding him down relented and pulled away.
The voice again, “I’m going to raise your head a bit and get you some water.”
An electric motor hummed, and he slowly lifted into more of a sitting position. The hand on his shoulder again.
“Can you take this cup? Just take a couple of sips, don’t gulp it down.”
Big Jim tried but couldn’t take hold, or even feel a cup. Frustrated, he made a sound. It was more like an unintelligible grunt.
“Let me help,” the disembodied voice said. Big Jim felt the cup brush up against his lips. He raised his head a much as he could and took a couple of sips.
“How are you feeling?” She asked, “You might feel a little disoriented and woozy, Mr Romero. Don’t worry about it too much. It’s the drugs and shouldn’t last too long. I’m going to turn this light on, but I’ll keep it dimmed down low. I need to take your vitals.” As the lights came up slightly, Big Jim saw a tall, slim woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or maybe, her early thirties. She wore scrubs with pictures of fish on a dark green background; her hair framed her face with ringlets and, she had flawless ebony skin that glowed when she smiled and lit up her eyes from within.
“What’s your name?” Jim croaked.
“Eleena,” she answered. Then she smiled again, and he watched as the light rekindled in her eyes.
“I am a little woozy, Eleena and you could be right. Maybe it’s the drugs, but I don’t think so.”
This week’s prompts were:
- I call shotgun
- maybe it’s the drugs?