Post by Johnny Reb on May 19, 2009 12:09:11 GMT -5
Floating idly in a cotton candy haze. No pain, here. No identity. Nothing with which to concern himself. Only yielding, unending softness.
Johnny….. Johnny….. Wake up, Johnny….
The voice that calls to him is velvet-smooth and sultry as a summer night in Georgia.
I think he’s coming around.
Light. Bright light, and fireworks going off inside his skull. Eyelids pried open, a star shining. He turns his head away from the source.
Get that goddamn light outta my eyes!
Immediately, he regrets the outburst. Another explosion of pain, and he fights down a wave of nausea. The penlight disappears, but overhead fluorescents continue to shine harshly down. Hands encased in blue nitrile: searching, prodding. Reluctantly, he submits to the efficient ministrations.
His gaze falls on a woman, dark of complexion but radiant as a sun. She wears a T-shirt bearing the image of a Southern Comfort label, with the letters “DIS” inscribed between the two words. Hazel eyes, full of concern, linger on his face as the medic sets to work with a needle, suturing a cut on his brow.
Dixie?
Hallucinating, now, he is certain. She was at a gig with her band, somewhere not-here. Wasn’t she?
Show got canceled. I thought I’d come see you. I never expected….
Vaguely, he wonders how bad it is. Memory returns in jumbled pieces. The match. The music. A warning, just too late, from the watching audience. A chair. A cage. Johnny’s eyes glitter with something dark and dangerous as the pieces begin to slide into place. Teeth bared in a feral snarl.
That motherf*bleep*….
Mr. Reb?
Malignant gaze turned on the medic, and the medic draws back just perceptibly. Hesitant, but firm, he informs Johnny that he cannot compete this week. Dixie’s hand on Reb’s arm stays his first impulse, and the medic backs out of his reach.
Take it easy this week, Mr. Reb. You’ll be fine in time for Aftermath.
A pernicious grin spreads across his face as the medic escapes to safety.
Aftermath…..
Unafraid, Dixie helps Johnny from the stretcher. His first steps are tentative and stiff, but the pain has receded in the face of a more powerful foe. Together, they stalk the back corridors of the arena, heading for the parking lot. Content to let Dixie lead the way, Johnny turns his mind to thoughts of remuneration.
Johnny….. Johnny….. Wake up, Johnny….
The voice that calls to him is velvet-smooth and sultry as a summer night in Georgia.
I think he’s coming around.
Light. Bright light, and fireworks going off inside his skull. Eyelids pried open, a star shining. He turns his head away from the source.
Get that goddamn light outta my eyes!
Immediately, he regrets the outburst. Another explosion of pain, and he fights down a wave of nausea. The penlight disappears, but overhead fluorescents continue to shine harshly down. Hands encased in blue nitrile: searching, prodding. Reluctantly, he submits to the efficient ministrations.
His gaze falls on a woman, dark of complexion but radiant as a sun. She wears a T-shirt bearing the image of a Southern Comfort label, with the letters “DIS” inscribed between the two words. Hazel eyes, full of concern, linger on his face as the medic sets to work with a needle, suturing a cut on his brow.
Dixie?
Hallucinating, now, he is certain. She was at a gig with her band, somewhere not-here. Wasn’t she?
Show got canceled. I thought I’d come see you. I never expected….
Vaguely, he wonders how bad it is. Memory returns in jumbled pieces. The match. The music. A warning, just too late, from the watching audience. A chair. A cage. Johnny’s eyes glitter with something dark and dangerous as the pieces begin to slide into place. Teeth bared in a feral snarl.
That motherf*bleep*….
Mr. Reb?
Malignant gaze turned on the medic, and the medic draws back just perceptibly. Hesitant, but firm, he informs Johnny that he cannot compete this week. Dixie’s hand on Reb’s arm stays his first impulse, and the medic backs out of his reach.
Take it easy this week, Mr. Reb. You’ll be fine in time for Aftermath.
A pernicious grin spreads across his face as the medic escapes to safety.
Aftermath…..
Unafraid, Dixie helps Johnny from the stretcher. His first steps are tentative and stiff, but the pain has receded in the face of a more powerful foe. Together, they stalk the back corridors of the arena, heading for the parking lot. Content to let Dixie lead the way, Johnny turns his mind to thoughts of remuneration.
