Chapter 2

Consciousness returned slowly. The bed was hard. My arm ached. Light was too bright when I opened my eyes. I saw chrome; sunlight reflecting painfully off the chrome frame of a wall mirror. Noise intruded in the form of a constant background hubbub. Smell arrived; rubbing alcohol, Pine-Sol floor cleaner. The sheets felt rough, starched, institutional.

"How are you feeling, Mr. McDaniel?"

Just turning my head hurt. My brain was painful. An Asian nurse smiled at me as she picked up a digital thermometer from the bedside table. Pressing a button, she bent over me and thrust it into my mouth.

"Srrr," I mumbled around the thermometer.

"I'm not surprised you're sore. I'll get you some painkillers in a moment. That was quite an accident. You just relax." She removed the thermometer, checked the temperature, and smiled her pleasure. "I'll be right back."

Maybe nurses were like dentists, capable of understanding you even when your mouth was full and you mumbled. Jeez I was sore. My right forearm felt heavy and thick. My mind wasn't very sharp. My right leg burned in several distinct spots.

Why was I in hospital? Ah, yes. Accident. Where was the Triumph? Where had I been going?

"I see you're awake," a young, prematurely balding doctor said, striding into the room with energy and authority and grabbing a chart. "How are you feeling? Any headache? Sensitivity to light?" he asked, reaching for my wrist to take my pulse with a cool, dry hand. "How's your arm feel? Motorcycles are dangerous. It's your head we were concerned about."

Was he going to stop and take a breath? Did he really care what I had to say?

"Concussion is a strange injury," he advised me, reading the chart. "It can have some strange side effects. Have you noticed any?"

"Like..."

I was interrupted by the sound of an alarm in the hall, a muffled P.A. system mangling something about the color blue, a code I thought.

"Oh dear," the doctor muttered, dropping the chart and my wrist before heading out in a hurry, his white coat flapping.

So. I guess I had a concussion. My arm? Reaching out I felt a cast. So that's why it felt heavy and thick. Broken? And why did my leg burn?

The nurse bustled in with a little Dixie cup. "There you are," she said as if I'd gotten lost in the nine minutes since she'd left. She poured water into a glass and handed me the Dixie cup and glass. "These should help with the pain," she said with a nice smile.

I took the pills. Hopefully they'd dull the pain that had emerged in my head and was gaining strength at an alarming rate. "Wait!" I exclaimed as she turned to leave, wincing at the painful loudness of my voice. "Can you tell me what's wrong with me?"

The nurse paused. She looked surprised. "Didn't Doctor Williams tell you?" she asked.

I shook my head and immediately regretted it, a stab of pain hitting me.