A Killer Call (standard:drama, 1413 words)
Author: Cyrano	Added: Oct 28 2006	Views/Reads: 3492/2245	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young man makes a call on his cell phone while driving...

Killer Call 

Gaining consciousness I feel the soft, warm sensation of a hand, holding
mine. I see her shape leaning in on me, see her brown hair and hazel 
eyes; kindly eyes that tell me she's smiling her reassurance beneath 
the white mask covering her nose and mouth. 

“You're okay; Harry, you've been involved in a car accident but you're
going to be fine, just try and remain calm,” and she gives the back of 
my hand a gentle rub. 

“Accident? I'm saying to myself...what accident?” I hear her voice
repeating itself in my head. She sounds ‘out there' somewhere, the echo 
of her voice hollow and distant, yet she's right here, right at my 
side, holding my hand. I try sensing pain but feel only 
numbness...paralysed? As if acutely aware I'm beginning to panic the 
nurse grips my hand reassuringly. 

“You're trembling, we've given you a little something to help you relax,
okay? You might feel slightly panicked, maybe not feel your legs, but 
everything is as it should be, do you understand?” 

It isn't exactly understood but I nod anyway. Try as I might I cannot
feel any sensation in my legs, just the warmth of her hand holding 
mine. This nice woman...this nurse...is telling me that everything is 
okay, no need to panic, just be calm. Nevertheless, a coldness descends 
upon me. 

“Harry,” she says, sounding out there somewhere... “Harry, do you hear
me?” I open my eyes. “We have someone who wants to ask you a few 
questions, do you feel up to it?” 

I feel afraid, numb, and cold; yet able to answer questions... if only
that it might take my mind off the concern I have for the lack of 
feeling in my legs. 

“Sure, I think I'm okay. I am okay, aren't I?” 

“Of course you are, Harry, just relax, I'll be right here the whole
time.” She beckons a man over with a movement of her head. I grip her 
hand with my fingers. 

“Hello Mr. Schofield, I'm sorry to see you this way. The nurse tells me
you're doing okay, out of danger. That's good. I'm afraid I have to ask 
you some questions,” 

“I can't feel my legs, do you know that?” 

The nurse chimes in, this time stroking my head as she speaks. 

“You will, Harry, you will, I promise you, a few minutes more, that's
all and your legs will be fine. Please relax and just answer the 
policeman's questions.” 

Policeman? Damn, yes, he's a policeman! He even looks like one now I see
his blue jacket, his helmet tucked under his right arm. A shrink of 
cool enters my stomach. 

“Do you remember anything of the accident, Mr. Schofield?” He asks,
looking down at his notebook, pencil poised. 

“No, sir, I don't.” 

“Do you recall leaving home?” 

I'm so conscious of having no feeling in my lower body I can hardly
think straight. 

“No, I'm afraid I don't.” I reply. 

“You do know who you are, correct?” He asks, not raising his head. 

“Harry Schofield, yes, Harry Richard Schofield.” 

“And your address, sir?” 


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