Just then he realized that he was asleep and his eyes were closed. All he saw were memories playing from his mind on the eyelids. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked. He tried orienting himself to where he was, but in his freshly awoken state, up seemed down and familiar shapes had no meaning. It took him a few moments before he was able to recognize that the tall, slender person in front of him with multiple arms raised high above was really a palm tree.
"Are you okay?" came a voice from somewhere above him. He tried moving his head to find the sound, but as soon as he did the stars came back into his vision. Only this time they were visible even in the daylight. He closed his eyes, hoping that it would help, but the throbbing only continued. "Just take it easy," the voice said. "We've called 911 and someone will be here to help you." Then the voice seemed to be talking to someone else because it didn't seem as loud or as close to him, but he heard them say, "He's awake, but obviously hurting. I don't know. I'll ask. What's your name?"
It took him a second to understand that the person was asking him the question. It required a lot of effort, but he was able to mutter, "Ben."
"Ok, Ben. Just lay still. The paramedics are on their way." Then, to the someone else, "Should we try and move him? But he's in the middle of the street. Ok, ok. I'll leave him. Should we check for bleeding?" The conversation seemed one-sided to Ben because he could only hear the person talking in front of him.
There was something familiar about that voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He opened his eyes again to see who was tending to him. His vision still a little hazy, he couldn't quite distinguish the features of the person, but the long flowing hair that surrounded the face gave it away that it was a woman. Ben blinked a couple of times hoping that that would help clarify what he saw. Little by little different features became more distinct until he was able to see her face clearly enough.
He inhaled slightly, and as he did his ribs shot a searing pain through his body. He knew this person. Not only knew her, but loved her. This was his wife. Why did she ask him for his name?
"Charlotte," he whispered. The lady's face turned back towards Ben's with a bewildered look. She was about to say something when a team of paramedics arrived and rushed in. Charlotte stood up and backed away, still staring at the man lying in front of her.
The paramedics quickly checked over Ben, looking for any bleeding or injuries that would prevent them from moving him. They tended to his wounds and lifted him onto the stretcher to wheel him into the vehicle. Ben tried looking around for his wife, but could not see her.
Charlotte watched the paramedics as they worked, and then dashed over to the truck to get one last look at this man that knew her name before they loaded him up. Ben turned his head at the last moment and caught her stare.
"Charlotte," he whispered again with a pleading look in his eyes. This wasn't just a man that knew her name. This was a man that depended on her, that needed her to be with him. She quickly stepped up into the van with the paramedics before they could stop her.
"Do you know this man?" the paramedic asked.
"His name is Ben," Charlotte said.
"Do you know what happened?"
Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but for some reason completely forgot what she was about to say. Did she know what happened? She thought she did, but it wasn't coming out. She felt like those times in college when she had the answer on the tip of her tongue but for the life of her could not get her mouth to produce the words.
"Ma'am? Do you know what happened?"
"I'm not sure," was all she could say.
Ben lay on the stretcher, listening to the conversation between his wife and the paramedic. Why was she not telling them what happened. She had been with him on the street before the car had pulled up next to them. He could remember that they had tried to take her and he had fought against them. Then he had blacked out.
"Charlotte," he eked out again.
She leaned closer to this man whom she did not know, madly curious as to how he knew her. His mouth moved with the intention to talk, but the I.V. from the paramedics had already taken its effect and he fell back into painless unconsciousness.
"Ok, Ben. Just lay still. The paramedics are on their way." Then, to the someone else, "Should we try and move him? But he's in the middle of the street. Ok, ok. I'll leave him. Should we check for bleeding?" The conversation seemed one-sided to Ben because he could only hear the person talking in front of him.
There was something familiar about that voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He opened his eyes again to see who was tending to him. His vision still a little hazy, he couldn't quite distinguish the features of the person, but the long flowing hair that surrounded the face gave it away that it was a woman. Ben blinked a couple of times hoping that that would help clarify what he saw. Little by little different features became more distinct until he was able to see her face clearly enough.
He inhaled slightly, and as he did his ribs shot a searing pain through his body. He knew this person. Not only knew her, but loved her. This was his wife. Why did she ask him for his name?
"Charlotte," he whispered. The lady's face turned back towards Ben's with a bewildered look. She was about to say something when a team of paramedics arrived and rushed in. Charlotte stood up and backed away, still staring at the man lying in front of her.
The paramedics quickly checked over Ben, looking for any bleeding or injuries that would prevent them from moving him. They tended to his wounds and lifted him onto the stretcher to wheel him into the vehicle. Ben tried looking around for his wife, but could not see her.
Charlotte watched the paramedics as they worked, and then dashed over to the truck to get one last look at this man that knew her name before they loaded him up. Ben turned his head at the last moment and caught her stare.
"Charlotte," he whispered again with a pleading look in his eyes. This wasn't just a man that knew her name. This was a man that depended on her, that needed her to be with him. She quickly stepped up into the van with the paramedics before they could stop her.
"Do you know this man?" the paramedic asked.
"His name is Ben," Charlotte said.
"Do you know what happened?"
Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but for some reason completely forgot what she was about to say. Did she know what happened? She thought she did, but it wasn't coming out. She felt like those times in college when she had the answer on the tip of her tongue but for the life of her could not get her mouth to produce the words.
"Ma'am? Do you know what happened?"
"I'm not sure," was all she could say.
Ben lay on the stretcher, listening to the conversation between his wife and the paramedic. Why was she not telling them what happened. She had been with him on the street before the car had pulled up next to them. He could remember that they had tried to take her and he had fought against them. Then he had blacked out.
"Charlotte," he eked out again.
She leaned closer to this man whom she did not know, madly curious as to how he knew her. His mouth moved with the intention to talk, but the I.V. from the paramedics had already taken its effect and he fell back into painless unconsciousness.
The steady beeping woke him up. It was dark in the room except for the lights from the monitors and the brilliance coming from the nurse's station outside. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark, but all seemed like hazy silhouettes. Suddenly a figure moved toward him from the dark side of the room and placed his hand over Ben's mouth.
"It's over, Ben," the man said. "We could have killed you, but that wouldn't have proven anything. Now you have to live your life with what you weren't willing to give to us."
Ben's mind raced with the implications of what the man was saying. He instantly thought about his wife and family.
"Are you thinking about her?" the man asked with a sneer in his voice. "She doesn't remember you. None of them do. You are now an anomaly, a figment of people's imagination. They'll talk to you and forget you the next moment. Your life is over. All because you weren't willing to work with us."
"Go to hell," Ben whispered.
The man smiled in the darkness. "I think you'll find you're already there."
