Star Dust (A Paladin Adventure)

Waking up

I woke up some time later and it took me a little time to figure out why I felt like the karma from many lives' worth of misdeeds had backhanded me. My head hurt So Much. I didn't want to even touch my middle; it all hurt. My left hand was sort of crampy, but I couldn't completely straighten or bend my right hand, my wrist was in a brace, and my forearm hurt. My shoulders hurt. My whole right side felt bruised and my knees and feet hurt. Then I started take in the externals. The lights in the small room were low. There were softly beeping monitors. No one else was in the room. I smelled smoke, and I was warm.

Memories started to filter through my brain. Alien invasion. It was snowing, and there was ash in the air too. Right. There had been fires in the city once the aliens had engaged the weapons on their ships. I'd been shooting. That explained my hands, wrists, forearm and shoulders. Pulling the trigger, gripping the gun, managing the recoil and aiming. I remembered being hit with a projectile from a strafing run, that must be why my middle hurt so very much. And when I'd been hit, I'd been driven back, landing hard on my side and cracking my head. I probably had a concussion, which might account for the nausea I felt, but why I felt like ants were quietly and securely burrowed into my skin was a mystery. 

And I had to pee in the worst way. I sat up cautiously and it didn't feel any worse, so I put down the safety railing on the bed and swung my feet out. Out from under the sheets, I saw dirt, ash, and blood on my skin and immediately wanted a shower. The smell of smoke was strong, and there was more than a hint of BO. A shower was definitely in order. I checked the dressing on my abdomen; it was huge. I'd need to cover it. I saw a trash bag lining a small trash can by the bed. I rummaged through the drawers of  the bedside table, then found a half-used roll of duct tape under the visitors chair. I couldn't bend over to save my life, so I drew It out with my foot, sat on the chair gingerly, grabbed it with my toes, and brought it up enough to grab it. Ripping strips off was also difficult without two functional hands, but I managed enough to plaster the bag to my midsection, with a little left over to cover the  IV in my hand. I shuffled into the bathroom, peed fast, then stepped into the shower, where I leaned against the tile for support and got as clean as I could. I rinsed until the water finally ran clear, then dried off perfunctorily and put my hospital gown inside out, so I had something clean against my skin. I shuffled back out to the chair, where I worked the duct tape off as carefully as I could. A nurse came in while I was peeling the tape off my middle, yelled at me at length for getting up without help and showering without permission, then got a bottle of lotion to help get the tape off without ripping off a layer of skin. My skin was red underneath but fundamentally sound, and my idea had worked; no water had gotten under the plastic.

The nurse looked at the sheets, which were filthy, especially the pillows. She sighed, then left and came back with clean sheets and a clean gown. I apologized, which seemed to mollify her some, and she helped me back into bed. I felt much better being clean, and she recognized the psychological effect of cleanliness. She took my vitals efficiently, helped to dry my hair some more, then left again, returning with a doctor. He had the nicest baritone I'd ever heard, rich and with enough gravel to make it interesting. We had a chat, during which he explained I had the expected concussion and said that I might be getting arthritis in my knees. One of the projectiles from the alien ships had ricocheted off the ground before hitting me, which was good news because if it had hit me without slowing, I wouldn't be here. As it was, the projectile had penetrated over two inches. I'd needed minor surgery, and they were keeping the wound open to combat infection which had popped up. I'd been out for three days. While we were speaking, the doctor deftly peeled back the dressing to check. I was aghast; the wound was almost four inches across. The doctor checked very carefully, flushed it with sterile saline, and was happy with the results. The nurse brought a suture kit withe the needles I'd made, and after numbing the area, started stitching the wound. Even with the local, it hurt.