Chapter 4: Carina

When I opened my eyes, I was alone. Apparently, they had moved me to another room because there was no sign of the carnage from earlier. And the room was different somehow. The walls had wainscoting below and dark green paint above. The window had long, floor-length drapes and green mini blinds that were partially open. I could see that it was dark outside.

I was also hungry, and I needed to pee really bad. Since there didn’t seem to be any restraints, I swung from the bed and looked at the open door to the bathroom. However, I found that there was a needle stuck in my arm with a tube leading to a drip bag hanging at the head of the bed.

I finally decided to go for it and grabbed the bag off its hook. Then I made my way to the bathroom. I had just finished flushing and was trying to decide how to wash my hands while holding the drip bag when I heard someone enter the room. I took my time washing my hands and then opened the bathroom door. There, sitting on the edge of my bed, was a blond goddess in a short skirt, medium heels, and a white lab coat. She even had the obligatory stethoscope draped casually around her neck and was looking over a clipboard loaded with paperwork.

As I opened the door, she paused in her reading and just stared at me. She was neither friendly or mean, mainly just curious as she looked me up and down.

“Not too bad for a dead guy,” she quipped with a slight European accent.

I just looked at her as I tried to decipher her last comment.

“Let’s get you back in bed,” she said smiling. “I’d like to check that IV and look at the burn on your left hand, okay?”

“Who are you?” I asked, “And where am I?”

“I’m Dr. Rappeneau, and you’re in my clinic in Cannes.”

“Can ... Cannes? As in Cannes, France?” I asked as I felt the shock going through my body.

“Oui,” she replied. “And before you ask, today is April 2nd.”

“April 2nd? That means I’ve been asleep for another ten days?” I thought before the darkness came and I collapsed to the floor.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in bed, and the blond goddess was still there. Only now, she had her stethoscope to her ears as she took my blood pressure.

“Oh, good. You are awake,” she said in that beautifully accented English of hers. “Next time, please be so kind as to get into the bed before you pass out. You are très lourd ... sorry! You are very heavy to lift.”

I just stared. Somehow, I got the impression that she knew how beautiful she was and what kind of effect she was having on me. She probably had that same effect on most of the young boys she treated.

She noticed my staring and smiled at me.

“Damnit! She DOES know!” I thought.

I did a quick survey. Blond hair that hung just past her shoulders, high, Slavic cheekbones on a slightly narrow face, dark eyes, maybe brown, with small laugh lines at the corners, thin lips that seemed always to be smiling and an overall air of poise and confidence. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be in love in a few minutes.

“You feel ... a ... better?” she asked with a gentle compassion.

“I think you know what you do to me,” I told her.

She looked at me as she parsed out what I had just said. Then she smiled.

“Oui. I think you are healthy American boy!” she pronounced.