Then the scene changes.
Now I’m in an empty parking lot and it looks sort of familiar, but I can’t quite place the area. There’s a woman in a car and from a distance she looks like Elizabeth. Is it her? There’s a man tugging at the car door, trying to pull her out by her hair. Her beautiful curly hair. It is her!
I run toward them. The closer I get, the more the man’s appearance alters. He’s blond and big and ugly. It’s Sergei. I swing on him hard and knock him to the ground. As I kick him in the back, another man comes for me. I don’t know his name, but I recognize his face.
“You want some too?” I antagonize him.
“Da.”
The man pulls out a large switchblade, but little does he know I’ve had my share of knife fights. The key is to disarm your assailant quickly. I kick him easily in the kneecap and when he bowls over; I kick his wrist and the knife goes flying across the blacktop. Now the fight’s a fair one and we go blow for blow for several minutes until I see her.
The head bitch has Elizabeth by the throat and is taking her away. I can see the fear in her eyes. She mouths the wordsI love youas the woman moves out of my line of vision.
And now I can’t see her at all.
I wake up in a sweaty haze like I’ve done after a night of some seriously bad drugs, but as soon as my eyes regain focus the pain kicks in. There are thin tubes of mysterious liquids being intravenously fed to my veins and none of them are pain killers? What kind of shit hospital am I in?
The first thing I do is look for her, but she is not in this room, and that’s how I know that things are far worse than I could ever imagine. Perhaps my nightmares and actual life are slowly morphing into some sort of twisted new reality.
I feel around for the corded button that is usually attached to hospital beds so I can call a nurse. I want to know where I am and how I got here. Ah, that’s right, the Russian bitch is real, and she is the reason I’m laid up in here and why I need to leave.
I press the call button with my thumb over and over until a nurse who looks all of twenty-one finally enters the room.
“Hello, Mr. Masterson. Welcome back,” she says brightly.
It’s difficult for me to respond because my throat feels unusually tight and constricted.
“Here let me help you sit up.”
“My family,” I try saying.
The nurse either cannot hear me or is ignoring my plea as she adjusts the height of the bed and fluffs the pillows behind my back.
“There that should help. Now, how about a small sip of water?”
She picks up a Styrofoam cup filled with water that has my name written in ballpoint pen ink on it. She holds the straw to my lips and I take a long sip, hoping that it will soothe some of the rawness I feel. I need to ask her where Elizabeth is.
“There now, why don’t you try speaking again so I can help you.”
“My family,” I say. “Where is my family?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Masterson, but I only came on shift an hour ago. I have seen none of your visitors, but I’ll ask someone at the desk if they’ve seen anyone. I’m sure someone was here earlier.”
“My phone.”
“I’ll check. By the way, I’m Karen, your nurse for this shift. If you need anything else tonight, I’m your girl.”
Karen rummages through a plastic bag filled with some of my belongings. The bloody clothes I was wearing are in the bag, but no phone. Damn, I forgot that the Russians have it and my identification, which leads me to my next question.
“How do you know my name?”
“It says it right here on your chart. Roman Masterson.”
“Yes, but how do you know that?” I cough. “Who brought me here?”
“I’ll check with the desk. Give me a sec.”
When Karen returns, she lets me know that it was Camden who brought and registered me to the emergency room, but that was over eight hours ago. I’ve been in this hospital for eight hours and Elizabeth still isn’t here? Did that scumbag Sergei get his hands on her? Shit, I’ve got to get out of here.
