For as long as I can remember, my waking up procedure is to assess my body and surroundings before opening my eyes.
This time, the immediate item was that there was something in my mouth. I tried to cough it out, but I couldn't.
Then I tried to reach up and pull it out. That's when I discovered my hands were shackled to the bed. That pissed me off. I yanked on the shackle and I heard a "spang!" as the bar broke.
I reached up and grabbed the offending object.
A breathing tube.
I felt for the air line and yanked it off, to deflate the balloon-like cuff holding the tube in my throat. Usually, you lube the tube before removing it, but I was gagging and in a hurry.
I yanked the tube out, and bloody hell! It hurt! But I sucked in a big lungful of air and it tasted freakin' wonderful!
I couldn't see anything, but I quickly felt and realized there were patches over my eyes.
Now I remembered the fight with – whatever that thing was.
Did my eyes get damaged? I had a momentary flash of panic – my eyes are the sense I use the most.
I wanted to tear the patches off, to see if I was blind….but I held back in fear.
I heard the alarm for the disconnected oxygen hose and –finally!- the sound of running feet.
Now, THAT was a welcome sound. My brother Marcus was here.
"Marc?" I said, "Dafuq is going on?"
Another voice, unfamiliar, said "Hold up, Mr. Falkyn, both of you."
"Right" agreed Marcus. "Eric, hold up, lets figure out what needs to stay and what needs to go."
I grumbled. "Where's the blinkin medical staff in this place?"
At that point, another voice said, "What the hell?" and stated, "You too, out. We need to figure out what's going on."
All of a sudden, a wave of weakness poured over me. I laid back in the bed. "Argh" was all I could get out. "What happened? Where am I? How long was I out?"
"Shh" said a voice, and there was a cool sensation in my arm. "Rest" he said soothingly, and the blackness coiled back over me.
Chapter Four – Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?