Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #18 September 2015 | Page 74

The noise seemed to embody the darkness,
not drown it out. And, it did nothing to hide the ever-growing dampness spreading around her.

throat as somebody covered her mouth with a rubber
device. The hasty rush of air was stale, and had a plastic aftertaste.

What’s hap--

Oh, GAWD! STOP!

Christie tried opening her eyes, but only managed to roll them behind their lids.

Her pleading eyes lolled, and were met by
heavy droplets of rain as she tried fixing a stare on
the rubber device engulfing her mouth. It seemed to
be suffocating her, and she tried screaming. However,
what emerged from her pain filled chest was nothing
more than an gurgle as warm blood spattered the clear
plastic.

The high pitched noise receded to a low growl.
“… there… ” A voice.
“What… driver?”
In the darkness, the second voice had an urgent
likeness to the first.
“Dea--”
The voices began swirling into the darkness.
The high pitched noise returned, and more rain
soaked her. Its cold needles stung as they struck, but
nothing like the pain surging throughout her body.
“NOW!” The voice’s commanding tone was
reminiscent of the first Christie had heard.
Wha-Unimaginable pain erupted as groping hands
gripped her shoulder, back, hips, and legs. She tried
screaming as it tore her out of comforting darkness,
but the air was too heavy to inhale. She worked her
mouth, but it felt like an elephant was sitting on her.
She tried flailing her arms, hoping the muscle movement would help. Instead, it brought more anguish,
and desire to scream.
Oh, GOD!
The explosion of pain clouded the fact that she
was being moved until her back smacked something
firm.

An authoritative voice followed her into darkness. “I need a morphine drip sta--”
#
Morphine?
Oblivion’s lure into darkness was far superior to a Band-Aid drug that gave the falsest sense of
comfort. Even with repeated doses, the drug would do
little to dull the pain. Oblivion was perpetual, soothing, and nurturing like a mother to a child. Its nature
was reciprocal; the more one gave in, the more comforting it became.
#
An abrupt jostle roused Christie as the gurney
struck a crater. Her body rose and fell, causing every
enraged nerve in Christie’s body to sing cadence with
a gut-wrenching scream.
“Watch the potholes!” The authoritative voice
sounded angered.
Christie’s eyes lifted into slits, and took survey.
Wooziness crept over her. Someone was compressing the rubber bag around her mouth in steady
intervals before lifting it to wipe her lips. An IV now
hung from her right arm. Assorted colours of emergency lights swirled through the night’s sky. And she
seemed to be moving at an increasing pace towards…
“Easy.”

A sudden gush of air forced its way down her

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