Chapter 21
I was vaguely aware of Parker, dragging me into a car I didn’t know he had, and belting me in. He pulled my eyelids up and stared. “You out, kid?” I felt like two people. Part of me remembered the girl in the bar and part of me was the one in the owl. “Dude, you weren’t supposed to take out the guys. Just go to sleep till we get there.”
“Where?” I managed to ask.
He put the clutch in and peeled out to the road into traffic. I heard the sounds of Dallas highways, the humming of tires and reached for the door handles, but fumbled without feeling much of anything.
He and the interior became a kaleidoscope of dark and light, movements up and sideways until I felt myself being lifted into an air-conditioned box and floated up towards the ceiling and bright lights. Saw Cohen. She stuck me with her needles and it all went away.
*****
Danny. Danny, wake up now.
I opened my eyes. Was in a room, with big commercial windows that looked out over the prairie. No mountains, no horizon lines just rolling hills that stretched forever. Grass all around in green and golden tones. Big blue skies with puffy fat clouds. My head felt as fat and soft as they looked.
Parker was in this room with a generic couch, chairs, and a coffee table. It looked like a waiting room.
My sleeve was rolled up and a fresh needle mark was on the elbow crease. Black and blue around it. Another was on my neck near my collar. I was in Dockers, and a blue dress shirt, my windbreaker on the couch. My feet were up on the cushions.
Marian Cohen and another man were standing behind Parker, who was seated opposite me.
“What’s going on?” My throat was tight, sore as if someone had gagged me or I’d been screaming.
“What do you remember, Daniel?” She asked.
“Doctor Cohen. Parker. The bar, fucking the girl, going outside. Three guys waiting to attack me,” I said flatly.
“How did you know they were there, Daniel?” The man asked. I’d never seen him before, he looked military, a jar head with razor cut, gray hair. Electric blue eyes, trim, neat build and ramrod straight. He chilled me.
“I went somewhere else. In something else, his eyes. Saw them hiding in the dark,” I answered.
“Was it an owl, Daniel?”
“Yes. Screech owl. It was hunting for mice behind the dumpsters.”
“Good, Daniel,” he said and held up a picture of a yellow Labrador retriever. I knew her name was Sassy.
“Go to her and tell me what she’s seeing, Danny,” he ordered.
I felt them retreating from the other me that stood behind a locked door, waiting to take over. ‘Sassy’, he thought and suddenly, I was him, was in the Labrador as she padded to the house, an old country house in the middle of 40 acres of pasture.
A woman’s neat legs in shorts passed my head and stroked me. “Sass, want to go out?” We heard the far-off rumble of a familiar vehicle, barked and loped painfully to the door to await arrival of our master.
“Mitch coming home, Sassy?” The woman asked, and flung the door open as the 4 x 4 F 250 drove up to park behind the Audi SUV.
The man who exited the vehicle was 6’2”, broad and handsome, with dark hair and just a glint of gray at the temples, blue eyes. He looked grim as he strode down the graveled, flagstone path to the house.
“You’re home early, Mitch,” she called and we loped out to weave around his legs.
He stopped, regarded us, and pulled the woman by the arm into the house, leaving us outside.
We barked and scratched at the door but no one opened it. Went around to the porch window where the kitchen was, and looked in. Dropped, trotted around to the back sneaking for the yard and the sliding doors which were nearly always open. Mitch closed it in our nose and stared through it at us. Herded the protesting woman into the interior of the house. We sat down, laid with our head on our paws.
Searched the skies. A crow sat nearby in the old live oak, the bedroom window was open to let the slight breeze cool the upstairs.
I shifted, was momentarily distracted by the thrill of flight, dive bombing and doing aerial acrobatics before I aimed my beak for the window. Was abruptly startled as I saw another crow in front of me and banked until I realized I was seeing myself in a mirror.
Flying inside the house was tricky, sharp corners and walls, depth perception was different. I landed on the top railing of the stairs and heard their voices. Couldn’t quite make out the words even with my acute hearing.
Slipped off the railing to glide closer and reached a hallway where out of the corner of my gold rimmed eye, I saw a broom come swinging. It hit me, knocked me out of the air to land on the floor where I fluttered my wings feebly. My head wouldn’t straighten, my heart raced over two hundred beats a minute and I felt no pain, save for that initial shock when the broom hit. Heard him say, “Its neck is broken.”
Warm hands picked me up, my head hung limp, bent backwards in a pose not conducive to living. His voice became a blur as death crept up the bird’s nervous system. I let go.
*****
“Holy Christ, Daniel? Daniel, can you hear me? You have a heartbeat, doctor? Shall I call the infirmary? This is Colonel Pierce, I need a complete medical team in the auxiliary lounge, room 2206 immediately. Cardiac arrest.” Daniel lay slumped, half on the couch, and half on the floor, his face, gray, fingers and lips turning blue. Parker pulled him off to lay flat on the floor, ripped open his shirt as he went around to the head and shoulders of the unconscious teen. “No pulse, no, respirations,” he said and breathed two quick breaths into the upturned mouth, pinching off the nostrils. Doctor Cohen thrust and counted to thirty. Within two or three minutes, she was sweating as they exchanged places.
“Colonel, is there a de-fib device nearby?” She gasped between breaths. Five minutes brought the med team in, who took over with equipment and drugs. She’d stepped back and let the corpsman handle it as Daniel was hooked up to a cardiac monitor and blood pressure cuff.
“No pulse, no respirations,” the medic announced. “Adrenaline in, charging 300 joules. Clear.” They him with the paddles and his body lifted as a small jolt as electricity flooded his heart. “BP is coming up, 40/20, pulse weak and thready,” he said. “80/40 sinus rhythm is back to normal. Let’s get him to the infirmary. What’s his name?”
“Daniel. Daniel Atkinson,” Cohen said as they lifted him onto the gurney.