Chapter 2

Brisco felt as if he'd run straight into the cowcatcher on a freight train. His head throbbed and his brain felt as if it were trying to bust out of his skull. His left arm, when he turned his wrist slightly, sent shooting pains up to his shoulder. And his back felt numb except for the little pinpricks of pain dancing all over from his shoulders down to his hips. At least his legs didn't hurt, although they hung off the side of the contraption on which he lay. If he could just get up on them, maybe he'd be okay. Moving anything, however, was out of the question.

"No! Stay still, mister! Please!"

The woman's frantic voice alarmed him enough to stop trying. Instead, he just groaned.

"Oh, please get someone out here quick! I think he's dying!"

Is she talking to me? Brisco tried to raise his head to look at her, to even find where the voice was coming from, but when he moved his head just the tiniest bit, intense pain slammed him, and with another helpless groan, he lost consciousness.

The next time he awoke, Brisco found himself lying on a hard surface. The paved stone? No, it was something else. His fingers brushed it. It felt like varnished wood, but when he weakly tapped it with his fingernails, it didn't sound right. He scrunched up his eyes against the pain and he grimaced. Shouldn't have used my left hand to do that.

"Kelly, he's coming to."

Brisco opened his eyes slowly, but then someone put a blue gloved hand up to his face, pried open one pair of lids and shone a really really bright light into his eye.

"Hey, whatcha doin," he mumbled and tried to struggle to get away from the beam, but they only moved it to his other eye. "What...what's happening?" He tugged on the restraints that held him down. His head was immobilized, as was his neck, shoulders, arms, all the way down his body. He'd never been bound like this before. "Hey, you can't do this. I'm the Sheriff!"

A beautiful blonde woman's face swam above him. She wore a strange white blouse with a badge on it, and a metal plate. When she smiled, she looked just like...

"Dixie. Dix, wha...what's going on?"

"Don't you remember what happened, mister? You were hit by a car. Ran right through a stop sign and turned you into a hood ornament. You're lucky to be alive."

"Com...Comet. Is-is he okay?"

"He's been taken to a horse veterinarian. They don't think they'll have to put him down." She paused and took what looked like a stethoscope from around her neck. She plugged her ears with one end and placed something cool on his chest, listened in several places down his torso. Some spots hurt when she touched them, and then she replaced it around her neck. "We're more worried about you right now. My name is Kelly. My partner Vic and I are going to take good care of you. Can you tell me your name?"

"Yeah. Brisco. Brisco County, Jr." He was finding it hard to get air. "Can you please...please loosen up these bindings? It's kind of hard to breathe."

Kelly frowned. "Vic, get that O2 hooked up."

"I'm on it."

"It's okay, Brisco. You've probably got some broken ribs, and we have to keep you on the backboard, so I'm afraid we can't do anything about the restraints. We'll give you some oxygen, see if that makes you feel better."

Vic lowered a clear mask over Brisco's face and he panicked. His breath came in short gasps, and he suddenly felt as if he were floating. Spots danced before his eyes, yet he could still hear their voices blending with those of people in the background. He wondered what happened, where he was, what all the fuss was about. What was with the flashing red and blue lights?

Brisco felt an uncomfortable squeezing on his right upper arm. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it anymore, he heard a hissing noise and it stopped cutting off his circulation. "His BP is dropping, Kel."

"Let's load him up and get him to Eastman. I'll stabilize him in the wagon." Someone threw a blanket over him up to his chin.

Okay, they're taking me somewhere. But where is Eastman? He felt himself rising, and he sensed other people around him. Through slitted eyes he watched the concerned looks on the faces directly overhead. They wore heavy coats with reflective strips on them, and large yellow helmets on their heads The board they tied him to lowered onto a soft surface, and someone placed another belt over him near his waist. All the movement unsettled him, and his stomach suddenly decided to rebel.

Kelly looked down at him, and her eyes widened slightly. "Guys, turn him, now!" She pulled the mask off Brisco's face just in time, as the others grabbed the board and turned him to the side. He vomited onto the pavement the last of the contents of his stomach. If his ribs were sore before, they were excruciating now. He let out an agonized cry and tried holding his breath, but another wave came. When he was done, they laid him flat again and Vic swiped at his mouth to clean up the remnants.

"Brisco, can you hear me?" It was her again. The one who called herself Kelly.

"Yes."

"How are you feeling?"
Did she really have to ask that? "Uhm, I've been better."

She smiled. "Okay, we're going to try this again and get you in the ambulance and take you to the hospital. Is there anyone we can call for you?"

"Call?"

"Yeah. The cops didn't find a cell phone on you, or any kind of emergency contact."

Brisco couldn't fathom what she was talking about. A cell phone? What was that? Before he could answer her, he fell back into the oblivion of unconsciousness, finding it hard to breathe again until the mask returned to his face. He quickly learned not to fear it. He also began to realize something else. He'd always been looking for the 'coming thing'. Somehow, he'd run head-first right into the middle of it. And it wasn't as great as he thought it would be.

The oxygen being pumped through the mask into his lungs reminded Brisco of the underwater suit that Dr. Wickwire had developed, and how it had helped to bring down, literally, one of Bly's gang. In the right hands, it could be a useful tool. Obviously, someone had taken the concept a step further and implemented it to help save lives. He did feel a lot better with the pure oxygen flowing. If only his body could stop hurting so much!

Something squeezed his arm as he woke up and he realized that it was that artificial boa constrictor again. He spied the intense look in Kelly's eyes. He must have been inside the wagon she referred to. Everything was bathed in a bright whiteness, but beyond her he saw cabinets holding medical supplies. A shrill wailing, interspersed with a strange whooping sound assaulted his ears. He cringed.

"It's okay, this won't hurt, just a little prick."

"Ahhhh," Brisco's cry was muffled by the mask. He felt a prick alright, but it seemed as if she stabbed him with a knife. Something plunged into his skin. The boa constrictor died with a hissing sigh. She pulled out a strip of some sticky substance, affixed the needle to his arm, and attached a tube to the end. He soon sensed a cool liquid flowing into his vein.

"What...what are you doing?"

She finished attaching the tubing to his skin as she replied, "I'm just putting in an IV. We need to get some fluids in you to help you stabilize, and we can administer medications through the port. That way we don't have to stick you again. So that first one is a doozy, but it's for the best." She smiled at him reassuringly and hung an odd transparent bag onto a hook over his head. "It's okay, Brisco. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you." She reached toward his face and brushed the wave of dark hair away from his forehead. Her hand was cool even through the blue covering. Her smile wavered a little, but she kept it pasted on just for him. "We'll be there in a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Nah." He tried to shake his head, but he'd forgotten that he was held in place by a collar around his neck and some chucks blocking his peripheral vision. "Maybe..."

"Maybe, what?" She leaned closer. Her warm breath felt good on his face.

Brisco always liked to think he was brave and strong, but at this moment he was as scared as a little child. "Hold my hand. Please?"

"Sure." She removed the glove and made skin to skin contact with him. "Better?"

"Yeahhhhh." At that moment, it felt almost as good as one of Dixie's kisses. But this wasn't Dixie. And somehow, he had the feeling that he wasn't in 1893 anymore.