A subway assault. He thinks, “How am I breathing?” Intubated Lights flash drip, drip, he thinks, “The enemy must have me tied down.” His leg twitches... No energy... Sleep. The only way back is through the chasm. Bang, awake again. Can’t talk. Drugs manage him, a little of this... Awake, that... Asleep haze, noise. He thinks, “Who am I? Who is he?” The robot in him responds. He thinks. “I must be captured.” Rest, torture, rest. Hands flail, he thinks, “I must escape, can’t talk, can’t warn my buddies. Marshaling strength, I have broken my handcuffs.” He thinks with no thought other than freedom, jerks the tube from his throat, Free, I... I can’t breathe, dying, trapped, medic! Saved! Oxygen; saved. Regrouping, he thinks, I have to escape. Under fire. Keep your head down. Grenade! They got me. Captured. Truth serum. Can’t... Can’t fight delirium. Name, rank, and serial... Slurrr, taking punches. I’m here, kind of... Delirium... I hear fellow prisoners say, “Get out; I tell them to get out... Resist!” It’s futile - unconscious. I would be driving down Main Street, all heads turning, a fast mover... Roarrrr My buddies... They are saving me. Carrying me away from the enemy. Close call. Out of the cave. I hope they damaged those guys. Weak ... Drifting... Sleep. Safe for now. “Whew,” close call, regroup... Tired beyond tired.
Nursing me back still stuck in the valley. “Dorothy,” I call her name, “Guide me.” His strength returns slowly, his heart beating. Again, fellow soldiers rescue him.
Drag him to a field hospital. More nurses, strength, sleep. Racing down main street in my fast mover... All heads turn.
He thinks, “They sent me back to a real hospital. Walls and toilets come into focus. I must be out of the valley. I see dorothy - “Hi” “Hi,” back... And kids...They get me up on my feet... So, tired. They make me walk. Hand me a walker, and teeth, and hearing aids, and glasses. I walk slowly, one step at a time, tired; sit, sleep, need help to move, anything. The sun rises... They hand me my teeth, hearing aids, glasses, breathing toy, Every morning a routine, draw blood... And me, I got my slow mover ready for the day One step... Another. I got my slow mover, who needs a fast car. I got my slow mover... Still... Dad survived
219
Made with FlippingBook - professional solution for displaying marketing and sales documents online