WYATT
After the dust settles, and the last vestiges of beauty still hang in the air, that’s when you have the best memories of your current dream. The flashes. The whispers of greatness.
Stretched out on my monster Cali King, with thick fluffy pillows, lying comfortably in my home, I wake to her beside me, with her strawberry colored hair fanning out around her, she’s enticing and erotic. Her prone, naked, glorious body is strapped to the bed, spread out like a buffet. My Circe.
Searching, exploring, and teasing every inch of her body has been what’s kept me off the track today. She knows how to pull every stop, where to nip, full-on bite, and crush every expectation I’ve ever had. I’ve never had inhibitions that seemed untouchable. They’re unnecessary, and easily overcome.
She’s pushed them further.
This is what I want my reality to be. This is a moment I’ve always hoped for. Clarity in my own mind.
Watching the vision fall out of focus, a tightness shoots through every nerve in my body.
“Clear!”
The dream scatters like smoke. My clarity is removed, disappointing me as it dissipates. As the sounds of home dissolve, other sounds become heightened. Motions become exponentially crisp. The sound of blood rushing through my ears almost drowns it out.
With a sharp pain radiating through my body, the loud beeping of machines and shouting voices increases.
“I got him back,” someone says. The words are clouded, but the urgency in their tone is unmistakable. “Get him in. Let’s go.” The words are rushed and authoritative.
Opening my eyes, my lashes wipe away the whispering ghosts that clouded my sight. Blinking past them, looking around as best I can, a face I don’t recognize comes into view. Her russet hair is pulled into a tight ponytail. Her face is makeup free, and her bright green eyes remind me of Circe. She’s pretty, but she’s not her.
What happened to us? My thoughts feel important, but they slip away quickly.
Everything is hazy, and my memory fades into a dense fog. “Where are they?” I ask, my voice gravelly.
“Sorry?” Bending low, the woman pulls the mask gently away from my mouth. “Repeat that, please?”
Like the words will be clearer the second time. Every word is a fight. Trying my best anyway, I force them out. “Where. Are. They?”
“We’ll get you out of here soon. Let’s look after you. You’re our priority, Mr. Crown.” Her voice is like listening to music underwater. With a look of sadness, she produces a counterfeit smile before pulling a blanket across my chest, flitting with the edges. “You can find out about them after, okay?”
Why does she seem worried? What happened? And where the fuck am I?
Taking the woman’s horrible advice, I force myself to relax. I try to remember where we were, what we were doing, and I’m finding it hard to think coherently as everything is broken and splintered. Time is not my friend.
That dream. Was it real? It felt tangible. If I can’t remember what happened, then I want that back. In this condition, though, I can’t argue with her. I have no energy. My body is tired, and I can’t even lift my head. My body feels like it’s being held down by weights.
Fuck, I feel like I’ve raced for hours.
Resigning against the numbing pain, I slump back to accept her ministrations.
Looking around us, it seems we’re on a freeway. The lights are dim, the sun is gone, and the moon is just cresting the sky. Nothing is discernible. Feeling the gurney jolt as we ride across the pavement, it lifts as we enter the back of the open ambulance with a thunk. The lights inside are painfully bright against the stark white interior of the cabin, making me squint.
“We’re going to be moving shortly, sir.” Moving my head to look for the voice, I see a muscular guy, who’s about my age, pulling out tubes, wires, and plugs and such. “I have to get an IV set, and you’ll hear some beeping from the monitors. Can you concentrate on that?”
I hear his desperate urgency to keep me awake, but it’s hard to focus.
“Squeeze my hand if you understand.”
Placing as much pressure as I can into my grip, he squeezes mine. The big guy smiles, then continues on with what he was doing. Pulling in shallow breaths, one after the other, I try to concentrate on his actions.
“Tasha, we’re good to go.”
As the ambulance moves, the male attendant shuffles around the cabinets, pulling out this and that, flicking switches, pulling cords, and adjusting the blankets that are lying across my body.
Lying still, I feel out my injuries. The cataloguing keeps me present in the here and now. First is toes. Left foot works. Right foot’s good. Next I try my hands. Right’s working. Left…nothing. I try again, but still nothing.
“My. Hand?” Croaking out the words.
“It’s in a splint. You broke your forearm and wrist when you crashed.”
Crashed?
I crashed? I never crash. On the track, my life is a series of crashes, busted bones, split lips, fractured hips and swollen fingers. But on the freeway, on side streets, and in a fucking family car, I don’t crash.
“What. Happened?” I ask slowly. I’m hoping he’ll be the one who gives me the answers I need.
“You were sideswiped by a transport on the Intercoastal. They extricated you.”
“Where. Are. They?” Forcing enough air into my lungs to speak in a single breath, he pulls the blanket higher, resting it right below my chin. Again, I see the same crestfallen look on his face that I saw on the woman.
“They’ll be coming along. You were the last one out. The car was squashed up so tight against the rail, it took them a bit to get to you.”
“Are. They. Safe?”
Reaching across to push a few buttons on the monitor, he looks me in the eyes. I don’t like what I’m seeing. “I can’t say right now, Mr. Crown. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Filling a syringe, he reaches down and says, “This should help you with the pain.”
Immediately, I feel a cool rush travel through my arm. My eyes grow heavy and my mind calms. Whatever was in that syringe has now made me pliant and serene. It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last time for me either.
~~~~~~~
As they check monitors, lines, fluid levels, and various listings on the chart, the people scrambling around the room continue on without speaking to me directly. I hear them ask someone how I am, how my pain is being managed, and if I need more or less drugs to deal with the pain, but not once do they ask me. Recognizing the voice that’s answering, I know it’s my sister Doll. Why aren’t they asking me?
How are the others? Where’s Circe? Where’s Mother?
Everything is so confusing. Everything is out of place. I remember fire trucks, ambulances, race cars, bikes in the mountain, family fights, and her.
Always her. Her brilliant green eyes and her radiant red hair. Her sarcasm, strong wit, and fire. All I want to know is how she is? How they are.
Fuck me. I’m tired in all the ways that count. Wanting to rest my eyes, that’s when the loud beeping starts its incessant squealing again. Alarms sound on the monitors and nurses run in, cussing like truckers, and immediately I feel cold.
That’s when they appear. I see them. The spectres are standing by in the shadows, awaiting me and mine. I don’t wish to give them the joy of gathering another Crown into their midst, so I fight.
I’ll fight because I have to.