I wake up, terrified, to the sound of a plane engine, something wet is dripping down my chin. I lift my hand to feel my face, my body screams in protest. My front four teeth are gone. I have a hole in my cheek, my nose feels broken and my eyes are nearly swollen shut. I try to open them to look at my surroundings. Everything is blurry at first and it takes a few moments for everything to go into focus. I see that I'm in the back of a plane, all alone. My heart drops. I look down at my clothes. They're covered in a disgusting combination of spit, snot, urine, vomit, and blood. I reach for the call button and push. I wait a full thirty seconds before an attendant shows up.
"How can I help you?"
"Where am I going?"
"You don't know?"
"No."
"You're going to Chicago, Sir."
I dwell on that for a moment.
"How did I get here?"
"A Doctor and two men brought you on here."
"They say anything?"
"They talked to the captain, Sir. We were told to let you sleep."
"How long until we land?"
"About twenty minutes."
"Thank you."
Although I never look up, I know she smiles and feels sorry for me. She shouldn't.
True to her word, a short while later we land, thank God. I look around for anything that I might have with me, but there's nothing. No tickets, no bags, no clothes, no wallet. I sit and I wait and I try to figure out what happened. Nothing comes.
Once the rest of the Passengers are gone, I stand and start to slowly make my way to the door. After about five steps I have to sit down again. I'm light-headed. Walking is probably not an option right now. The Attendant from earlier shows up.
"Are you alright?"
"No."
"What's wrong?"
"Other than everything. I can't really walk."
"If you can make it to the door I can get you a chair."
"How far to the door?"
"Not very, Sir."
I stand. I wobble. I sit back down. I stare at the floor and take a deep breath.
"You'll be alright."
I look up at her, she's smiling.
"Here."
She holds out her hand and I take it. I stand and I lean against her and her and she helps me get down the Aisle towards the Door.
"I'll be right back."
I let go of her hand and I sit down on the steel bridge of the Jetway that connects the Plane to the Gate.
"I'm not going anywhere."
She laughs.
I watch her walk away and I close my eyes. My Head hurts, my Mouth hurts, my Eyes hurt, my Hands hurt. Things without Names hurt.
I rub my stomach. I can feel it coming. Fast and Strong and Burning. No way to stop it, just close your eyes and let it ride. It comes and I recoil from the burn and the stench and the pain. There's nothing I can do.
"Oh my God."
I open my eyes.
"I'm alright."
"Let me find Doctor."
"I'll be fine. Just get me out of here."
"Can you stand?"
"Yeah, I can stand."
I stand and I brush myself off and I wipe my hands on the floor and I sit down in the wheelchair she has brought me. She goes around to the back of the chair and she starts to push.
"Is someone here for you?"
"I hope so."
"You don't know?"
"No."
"What if no one's there?"
"It's happened before. I'm sure I'll manage."
We come off the Jetway and into the Gate. Before I have a chance to look around, Bobby and Sam are standing in front of me.
"Oh Jesus."
"Please, Sammy."
"What the Hell happened to you, Dean?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Bobby walks around to back of my chair. I look for the Attendant, but she's disappeared. Bless her.
"You ok?"
"No, Bobby. I'm not ok."
He starts pushing my chair.
"Do you have bags?"
"No."
People are starting to stare at us.
"Do you need anything?"
"I need to get out of here, Bobby, Just get me the fuck out of here."
They wheel me to Bobby's car. I climb/crawl into the backseat. I take my shirt off and I lie down. Bobby starts driving. Sam doesn't say anything. I fall asleep.
About four hours later I wake up. My head is clear, but everything throbs. I sit forward and I look out the window. There is no snow on the ground, but I can feel the cold seeping in through the car.
We've pulled into a Gas Station in Wisconsin.
Bobby opens the Driver's door and he sits down and closes the door.
I shiver.
"You're awake."
"Yeah."
"How are you feeling?"
"Shitty."
"Sam's inside cleaning up a bit and getting supplies. You need anything?"
"A bottle of water. A couple bottles of wine. A pack of cigs."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"This is bad, Dean."
"I need it."
"You can't wait?"
"No."
"Idjit. You're just going to upset Sam."
"I don't care. I need it."
He opens the door and he goes into the Gas station. I lie back down and I stare at the ceiling. I can feel my heart quickening and I hold out my hand and I try to keep it straight. I hope they hurry.
Twenty minutes later the bottles are gone. I sit up and light a smoke and take a slug of water. Sam turns around.
"Better?"
"If you want to put it that way."
"We're going up to the Cabin."
"Figures."
"We're going to decide what to do with you when we get there."
" All right."
"What do you think?"
"I don't want to think right now."
"You're going to have to eventually."
"Then I'll wait 'till eventually comes."
Sam shakes his head and turns back around.
We head North to the Cabin. Along the way I learn that Sam and Bobby, who have been traveling, received a call at four A.M. From a friend one who was with me at a Hospital. He told them that I had fallen face first down a Fire Escape and he thought they should find me some help. He didn't know what I was on, but he knew that there was a lot of it and he knew it was bad. So they had driven to Chicago during the night.
"So what was it?"
"What was what?"
"What were you taking?"
"I'm not sure."
"How can you not be sure?"
"I don't remember."
"What do you remember?"
"Bits and pieces."
"Like what?"
"I don't remember."
We drive on and after a few hard silent minutes we arrive. We get out of the car and into the House and I take a shower because I need it. When I get out there are some fresh clothes sitting on my bed. I out them on and go into the Living Room. Sam and Bobby are up drinking coffee and talking but when I come in they stop.
"Hi."
Sam looks at me.
"Feeling better?"
"No."
"You should get some sleep."
"I'm gonna."
"Good."
Bobby and Sam are both looking at me now.
"I just."
I look away.
"I just, you know."
I can't look at them.
"I just wanted to say thanks. For picking me up."
Silence.
"I'm gonna go to sleep."
"Night."
"Night, Dean."
I turn and leave the Living Room and I go into the kitchen. I look through the cabinets and I find an unopened half-gallon bottle of whiskey. The first sip brings my stomach back up, but after that it's all right.
I go to my room and I drink and I smoke some cigarettes and I think about her. I drink and I smoke and I think and at a certain point blackness comes and my memory fails me.
