friend.”
I got scared, and he picked up on it immediately. Worse, his soldier buddy did too, and he frowned and the barrel of his gun came up almost imperceptibly. I didn’t hesitate and dropped my pants as best I could. The semi-circle bite mark screamed “HEY LOOK AT ME!” to all three of us, and the gun was now pointed directly at my face. The doctor hissed, “Wait!” The army kid didn’t know what to do, but he kept the gun on me and I started to sweat.
The doctor pressed the wound hard; it was mostly healed and probably wouldn’t even scar. “When did you get this?” he said that as he breathed out. For some reason, that scared me more than the gun, but I didn’t know why at the time.
“About a week ago.”
“A week ago.” Guy was a fucking parrot now. “That…that’s not possible.”
“Does it look healed, Doc?”
“Yes but—”
“Do I look like I want to eat you? Do I look like I’m rotting?”
“No. No you don’t.” He furrowed his brow and folded his arms. He glanced over his shoulder and almost shit. “For Christ’s sake, lower your weapon,” he almost screamed at the poor army kid, who complied instantly. The poor kid had no idea what to do, and kept looking back and forth at me and the doc. “Go get Regan. Go! Now!”
The kid split the room like his ass was on fire, and the other soldier burst in the room with wild eyes. He saw me standing there in my skivvies, and pointed the rifle at me. “NO,” screamed the doc and he grabbed the barrel.
“Oh shit,” I said, and a single shot rang out. I felt my head snap back, and suddenly I was falling down a dark hole.
Compound Fracture
And I had called Ship a baby. Let me tell you, if you get shot in the head and it doesn’t kill you, it effing hurts. I was in and out of consciousness for a while.
Why did everybody want to shoot me? I may have been in prison, but I wasn’t a bad guy, I just had some bad luck. Those that didn’t want to shoot me wanted to eat me, or just plain tear me to pieces. I know I’ve mentioned this before, and quite recently to boot, but I’m really, truly, a wonderful individual. Stop shooting me. Stop it. I will make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Voices woke me. My shoulder hurt, but it was playing second fiddle to my noggin, which was telling me that under no circumstances should I even consider motion of any kind. I opened my eyes and that was my first mistake. It was bright, so I blinked a couple of times. This was more movement, and my head had been quite clear on not performing any type of motion. My cranium told me I was fired and I promptly passed out again.
I was lying down on a bed, my back propped up with pillows. Voices again, and for a moment I thought the pain in my head was actually speaking to me. The door opened and I looked at the doc and another army guy. The army guy was in command; I could tell that from the moment he stepped through the door. He was also younger than I would have thought.
The doc was all smiles. “You’re awake.”
I don’t know how he made his voice so loud, or why it reverberated around my skull like a drum-beating hippy, but I informed the doc of my displeasure.
“It was just a graze, sir,” said army dude. Poetic effing justice I’m thinking Ship would say.
I raised my hand to my temple. “Let me borrow your pistol, I’ll shoot you in the head, and then we can compare pain levels.”
“Fair enough. My name is Major Regan.” He extended his hand.
Guy had a firm handshake. I immediately knew that even though this guy looked younger than me, and we were in the midst of probably two hundred million dead cannibals, this man had absolutely no intentions of being fucked with.
“Sir, I wanted to speak to you about your injuries. It seems that—”
“Where are my friends?” The not-being-fucked-with dynamic notwithstanding, I needed to know, and I was still uncomfortable with authority, although nothing like now.
“I assure
I got scared, and he picked up on it immediately. Worse, his soldier buddy did too, and he frowned and the barrel of his gun came up almost imperceptibly. I didn’t hesitate and dropped my pants as best I could. The semi-circle bite mark screamed “HEY LOOK AT ME!” to all three of us, and the gun was now pointed directly at my face. The doctor hissed, “Wait!” The army kid didn’t know what to do, but he kept the gun on me and I started to sweat.
The doctor pressed the wound hard; it was mostly healed and probably wouldn’t even scar. “When did you get this?” he said that as he breathed out. For some reason, that scared me more than the gun, but I didn’t know why at the time.
“About a week ago.”
“A week ago.” Guy was a fucking parrot now. “That…that’s not possible.”
“Does it look healed, Doc?”
“Yes but—”
“Do I look like I want to eat you? Do I look like I’m rotting?”
“No. No you don’t.” He furrowed his brow and folded his arms. He glanced over his shoulder and almost shit. “For Christ’s sake, lower your weapon,” he almost screamed at the poor army kid, who complied instantly. The poor kid had no idea what to do, and kept looking back and forth at me and the doc. “Go get Regan. Go! Now!”
The kid split the room like his ass was on fire, and the other soldier burst in the room with wild eyes. He saw me standing there in my skivvies, and pointed the rifle at me. “NO,” screamed the doc and he grabbed the barrel.
“Oh shit,” I said, and a single shot rang out. I felt my head snap back, and suddenly I was falling down a dark hole.
Compound Fracture
And I had called Ship a baby. Let me tell you, if you get shot in the head and it doesn’t kill you, it effing hurts. I was in and out of consciousness for a while.
Why did everybody want to shoot me? I may have been in prison, but I wasn’t a bad guy, I just had some bad luck. Those that didn’t want to shoot me wanted to eat me, or just plain tear me to pieces. I know I’ve mentioned this before, and quite recently to boot, but I’m really, truly, a wonderful individual. Stop shooting me. Stop it. I will make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Voices woke me. My shoulder hurt, but it was playing second fiddle to my noggin, which was telling me that under no circumstances should I even consider motion of any kind. I opened my eyes and that was my first mistake. It was bright, so I blinked a couple of times. This was more movement, and my head had been quite clear on not performing any type of motion. My cranium told me I was fired and I promptly passed out again.
I was lying down on a bed, my back propped up with pillows. Voices again, and for a moment I thought the pain in my head was actually speaking to me. The door opened and I looked at the doc and another army guy. The army guy was in command; I could tell that from the moment he stepped through the door. He was also younger than I would have thought.
The doc was all smiles. “You’re awake.”
I don’t know how he made his voice so loud, or why it reverberated around my skull like a drum-beating hippy, but I informed the doc of my displeasure.
“It was just a graze, sir,” said army dude. Poetic effing justice I’m thinking Ship would say.
I raised my hand to my temple. “Let me borrow your pistol, I’ll shoot you in the head, and then we can compare pain levels.”
“Fair enough. My name is Major Regan.” He extended his hand.
Guy had a firm handshake. I immediately knew that even though this guy looked younger than me, and we were in the midst of probably two hundred million dead cannibals, this man had absolutely no intentions of being fucked with.
“Sir, I wanted to speak to you about your injuries. It seems that—”
“Where are my friends?” The not-being-fucked-with dynamic notwithstanding, I needed to know, and I was still uncomfortable with authority, although nothing like now.
“I assure
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