First chapter is incredibly long. They're not all this long.
--
Chapter One
September, 2003
Agent Sands, barely alive, wandered into the closest hotel a woman led him to. Blood still streaked his face and he could barely walk. A nurse's eyes went wide.
"Are you ok?" The nurse asked, touching his shoulder. She was American. She was plump with red hair and an annoying laugh.
"What does it look like, lady?" Sands asked her. She was shocked by how hostile he was, but then again, she excused it because at that moment he got down on his knees, moaning in pain.
Remembering everything in his head, wondering how it looked, Sands secretly thanked the little boy who had helped him. Without the boy, he wouldn't be there. Of course, he'd never utter the words 'thank you' to anyone except himself.
"We'll need your name and some ID, and we can treat you," The nurse told him. Sands snapped out of his daze, nodded, and fumbled through his jeans pocket. He handed her his wallet which had holes in it, but contained a source of ID.
"You're with the CIA, aren't you?" The nurse wanted to know. Sands sighed.
"Yeah, but can we please forget that? Please?" Sands begged.
"We'll treat you. Why don't you walk with me, we'll find you a room, this place is a mess lately with all the injured and dead that we're not even asking for paper work. Just come with me and tell me what happened," The nurse offered. Sands sighed.
"I might have to tell you what happened first," Sands replied. He removed his sunglasses to reveal the gaping hollows that throbbed with each second. Blood still spilled from them.
"Wow.." The nurse stated.
"How bad does it look?" Sands wanted to know.
"It's not too pretty, I'll say that," She replied.
"I guess now I always have an excuse to scare someone," Sands laughed, "But you don't know how much it hurts. @#%^ it."
"I can't imagine that kind of pain you're going through Mr.," the nurse glanced at the ID, "Sands. Just take my hand and I'll lead you." She took his hand and he would have protested, but doubted that would be a smart move. "Walk straight." He did.
They moved through a hall. "Turn left." He did. So far it was working. "Turn right." He did and smacked right into a wall. "I guess I should have mentioned that I needed to open up the door.."
"That would have been wise," Sands scoffed. The nurse opened the door and Sands walked in.
"How'd you know it was open?" The nurse asked.
"I'm blind, lady, not deaf. I heard it open," Sands replied, sighing. Now they were in the room.
"Just stand there a minute and I'll get the blood off of your face," The nurse instructed. Sands obeyed. She came back with a wet cloth and gently wiped it over Sands' face. Immediately another drop of blood dripped down his face. She wiped that off, too.
"Don't make any efforts with that, lady. The @%$* blood is gonna keep coming back. Just @%(# it and forget about it," Sands told her. She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her.
"I just didn't want you getting blood on your pillow," She explained. He shrugged. "So what happened to you, anyway?"
"I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say this @(#%* tricked me and it resulted in my getting my eyes drilled out and being shot. A couple of times," Sands replied, "Both legs and my left arm. A kid helped me here."
"Sounds.. painful," The nurse stated.
"No @#(%," Sands laughed, "Where's the bed? I want to lay down." She took his hand again, and again he was going to protest but realized it was better if he just let it go. She took his hand over the bed so he knew where it was.
"Do you want to change first?" The nurse inquired. Sands unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, took them off, leaving him in his boxers. He took off his leather jacket to reveal a tight white t-shirt.
"I'm fine," Sands told her. The nurse shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? "So how long do you think I'll stay here?"
"Until you're better," The nurse explained. Oh how bad he wanted to roll his eyes. "Which could take say, two weeks?" The nurse was only guessing, but she was good at guessing, "We'll have to remove those bullets and treat your.. sockets."
"Two weeks? That ain't bad I guess," Sands decided.
"Do you have somewhere to stay after you get out?" The nurse asked. Sands nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged.
"I'm leaving Mexico. Going back to the states. It's where I came from, you know?" Sands replied. The nurse nodded, again, knowing he wouldn't see her.
"I'm from the states, too. Where are you from?" The nurse wanted to know. Sands was in the process of getting into the bed, and struggling with the covers.
"Illinois. Springfield," Sands told her, "And you?"
"Minnesota," The nurse replied, "But I've been to Chicago."
"That place sucks @$$. It's so @*$# boring. I can't stand it. It's so.. so.. I don't know," Sands stated. A moment of silence passed.
"Are you tired? I can let you sleep and then come back and clean your.. your.." The nurse searched for the right word.
"Sockets?" Sands asked.
"Yes," The nurse replied.
"Yeah, I'm tired. But I still don't know how to go to sleep without closing my eyes. I'll find a way." Sands put his sunglasses on his chest. "Do you have a wet rag or something I can put over my.. sockets?" The nurse handed him one. "Thanks."
The next two weeks went on like that. Sands had to lie in bed all day, try to recuperate. Someone had come in and cleaned his eye sockets, and a doctor had removed the bullets. Sands seemed to be doing fine. Fine enough to be released. And he was released. His next move was going to be the hard one..
"I was wondering if you would call someone for me," Sands told the nurse on the day of his release.
"Yeah, probably. Who?" The nurse wanted to know.
"Agent Dobson. An old.. friend. His number is.. is.. in my wallet. You have that. Tell him to come and pick me up and drive me to the states. He'll do it. He owes me," Sands explained.
Sure enough, Agent Dobson was called and he picked up Sands. Now they were headed toward the border. Ten miles. Five miles. Then they were there.
"What are we going to say?" Agent Dobson asked, frantically.
"No worries. We'll pay him off," Sands replied, smiling.
"You've got money?" Dobson wanted to know. Sands nodded.
"American money. Five hundred dollars. Lost some. I've been saving. Of course, we don't tell him that. We say we have three hundred dollars in American money. Cash. We tell him we need one hundred for gas and food. We offer him, say, two hundred to let us in," Sands explained. Dobson grinned.
"When did you get so @#(%#*% smart?" Dobson teased. Sands just laughed.
An officer approached them.
"I need some ID," The officer demanded.
"Look, we really need to get to the states. We're on business. We've got three hundred dollars in cold, hard, American cash," Dobson began, "We'll be needing one hundred for gas and food, etc. How about we give you two hundred, and you let us in." The officer had to think about it.
"Make it two-fifty and you've got a deal," The officer replied, grinning. Dobson gave him the bills. After counting them twice, Dobson and Sands were in the United States.
"You're insane, you know it?" Dobson asked.
"Just drive," Sands commanded him. Dobson rolled his eyes and kept his eyes on the road.
"Where are we driving to?" Dobson demanded. Sands laughed.
"Illinois. Springfield, Illinois," Sands explained. Dobson stared at Sands for a moment before returning his gaze to the open road.
"Isn't that where you're from?" Dobson asked the fellow agent. Sands nodded. "And who are you going to stay with? Mommy and Daddy?"
"Mommy and Daddy are dead," Sands said coldly. Dobson suddenly felt bad.
"What happened?" Dobson asked. Sands shrugged.
"Don't know. Don't care. Kendra called me on my cell one day and said they were dead, asked if I wanted to go to the funeral. You know what I said? I said '@#(% no.' You know why I said '@#(% no?' Because my family sucks. I think it was some sort of car crash, don't know," Sands explained.
"Then who are you going to stay with?" Dobson asked. Sands shrugged.
"I've got someone in mind, but I won't tell you who until we get there. So drive," Sands told him. Then he sat back and tried to get to sleep.
After a couple days of driving all night, getting no sleep, Dobson and Sands arrived at Springfield. Dobson pulled into a gas station.
"Why are we stopping?" Sands demanded, noticing the car had pulled in and parked.
"Because we're coming into Springfield and you're going to tell me where I'm supposed to go and who you are planning on staying with," Dobson replied. Sands nodded.
"Sounds reasonable," Sands laughed. And he began to tell him. "I met her when I was nine years old. For my eleventh birthday, she gave me my first kiss. That's when we started dating. She was there through everything that sucked in my life. And I was there for her. I was there when her parents split up, when she was having problems with her weight. She was there when my cousin died and I thought it was my fault because he had been at my house when he committed suicide. We lost our virginity to each other. We were always inseparable. And when we broke up, we made a pact that if we ever needed help, we could come to each other."
"That's beyond sweet, Sands," Dobson stated.
"Oh shut up," Sands replied, "It's not sweet. It's what is." Dobson shook his head, smiling.
"And what is this girl's name?" Dobson asked.
"Jessica Anderson," Sands answered him.
"And where does she live?" Dobson wanted to know.
"This is the part where you go inside the gas station, find a phone book, and look up her name. If it's not there, she's married or moved away and we'll screw it," Sands told him.
"All right," Dobson agreed, "But what do we do if we have to screw it?" Sands pondered.
"I don't know yet. I'll think of something. I'm good at thinking quickly," Sands answered him, "Now go inside and.. do as I said." Dobson opened the car and walked into the gas station. A few minutes later, Dobson returned with a piece of paper that had an address on it.
"Did you get it?" Sands demanded. Dobson nodded, then realized Sands couldn't see him. "Did you?"
"Yes, I got the address. 416 West Windmill Drive. Know where that is?" Dobson inquired.
"Windmill Drive? Uh, crap. No. Go get directions. If I had eyes, I could tell you, but I can't since I don't know where we are now," Sands explained.
"@*$# you," Dobson replied, opening the car door and getting out.
"No! @*$# the @*!$@%#@ that took my @#$^%&$ eyes!" Sands yelled back.
In the next minutes, Sands and Dobson had gotten directions and were on their way to Jessica Anderson's house. Then they arrived. All the houses on the street were normal sized, nice looking houses. Jessica's house was kind of small, but not too small. It was a light brown and she had plants and decorations.
"We're here," Dobson announced.
"Now what?" Sands asked, "I don't want you leading me to her door. I don't exactly want to tell her yet. About my eyes. First I'll just say that I'm looking for a place to stay." Dobson thought.
"I have an idea," Dobson laughed, dialing his cell phone. Sands sighed and his cell phone rang.
"What the @*#%?" Sands asked, answering it. "Hello?"
"Hey," Dobson laughed. Sands gave him a 'what the @#*% are you thinking' look. "You get out of the car, I direct you by talking to you in the phone. If you fall, you can shoot me later."
"Really?" Sands asked, with glee. Dobson laughed. Sands got out of the car, phone to his ear.
"Start walking straight," Dobson directed. Sands obeyed. "And now get down on the ground and feel for a side walk. You're really close to it."
"Are you kidding?" Sands asked.
"Does it sound like I'm kidding?" Dobson shot back.
"@*$# you," Sands mouthed. He got on the ground and felt with his hand until he found what felt like a sidewalk. "This it?" He stood on it.
"Yup. Now walk straight on it. I'll tell you when you come to the steps," Dobson replied. Sands did just that.
"@*#%, steps?" Sands asked. He came to the steps.
"Stop. Turn left and walk up three steps," Dobson commanded. Sands slowly, but successfully made it up the steps. "Now walk left and up to the house. Feel for the door, and knock."
"I know what to do when I find the door," Sands told him. He found it, and knocked, hanging up the phone. A woman opened the door. She was a little bit dark, had beautiful, long, blonde hair and big brown eyes.
"Sheldon?" She asked.
"Sands," Sands corrected her.
"What?" She asked, confused.
"Never mind," Sands replied, "Are you married?" The woman stared at him.
"No.." She answered, "Why?"
"Can I come in?" Sands asked her. She nodded.
"Yeah," She said, holding the door for him and returning into her home. Sands followed behind her. He was now in the living room. It was a beautiful living room, mostly white, and had a brown couch and matching chair. The large television sat on a home entertainment system with a stereo. "Come on into the kitchen."
"Straight ahead?" Sands guessed, hoping she didn't pick up on his blindness this quickly.
"Yeah," Jessica replied. Sands didn't hit the wall, but after entering the kitchen, hit the chair. Jessica didn't notice. He quickly sat down.
"So how have you been?" Jessica asked. Sands sighed.
"Not too good lately. Life sucks, what can I say? You?" Sands replied.
"Pretty good," Jessica replied, "What brings you here?" Sands felt a drop of blood roll from his eye sockets down his cheek. Jessica noticed. "What's wrong with your eye?"
"I guess you're going to find out anyway," Sands replied. He took off his sunglasses, revealing his bleeding eye sockets.
"Oh my god," Jessica gasped. Sands smiled.
"I seriously thought you'd scream," Sands laughed, "How bad does it look?"
"Bloody," Jessica replied, "What the heck happened?" Sands returned the glasses and sighed.
"For the past several years, I've been working for the CIA. I'm a @#($*%^ CIA agent. Stationed in Mexico. This big.. thing erupted and this @(#%* who I was 'dating' betrayed me and they took my eyes. Then I was shot in the arm and both legs. This kid helped me out. Helped me to a hospital," Sands explained, "But I made it, after two weeks in the hospital. But you remember that pact we made years back when I moved?"
"That we'll help each other if we ever need it?" Jessica asked. Sands nodded. "Yeah?"
"I need help," Sands told her. "Me. Sheldon Jeffrey Sands needs help. I don't have a place to live and I was wondering if maybe you have a guest room I could stay in. Just for awhile. I promise not very long." Jessica sat there, in shock.
"I have a guest room and yeah, you can stay here," Jessica replied, "Are you gonna be ok?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. It hurts.. a lot. And sometimes it bleeds. Can probably get irritated easily, too," Sands told her, "And I don't sleep well. Probably haven't slept in days, actually."
"Doesn't sound like you're fine," Jessica stated, "How'd you get here?"
"Oh @*#$." Sands quickly dialed his cell phone. "Dobson? Yeah, it's ok to come in now."
"What the @*$^?" Jessica asked. Sands laughed. He's never heard you use that word before.
"Agent Dobson. He brought me from Mexico to Springfield. He's a trooper," Sands explained. That's when Agent Dobson walked in.
"Hi. You must be Jessica," Dobson stretched out his hand to her. She shook it.
"Yeah. This is really weird. Are you staying the night?" Jessica asked, "I have a couch."
"I guess I could stay. If it's not too much trouble?" Dobson wanted to know. Jessica shook her head.
"No, it's fine," Jessica replied.
"What time is it?" Sands asked. Jessica glanced at the clock.
"Five thirty," Jessica told him. Sands yawned. "You guys want something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure," Dobson replied.
"No, can you show me to the guest room? I'm really tired and could use a nap," Sands asked.
"Sheldon Sands turning down food?" Jessica asked, concerned.
"I'm not myself right now," Sands explained, "So.. yeah." He stood up and Jessica took his arm.
"Come on," Jessica instructed him. She led him into the guest room and he laid down on the bed.
"Do you want blankets?" Jessica offered.
"No, I'm fine," Sands replied, sitting back up and taking off his jacket and shoes, then lying back down again.
"Are you sure you'll be ok?" Jessica asked, with concern.
"Yes, I'm sure. Get the *@$! out of here and leave me alone. I'll be all right after I get some fricking sleep and get time to reflect on the @*$^ that I call my life," Sands replied. Jessica let him be.
--
Chapter One
September, 2003
Agent Sands, barely alive, wandered into the closest hotel a woman led him to. Blood still streaked his face and he could barely walk. A nurse's eyes went wide.
"Are you ok?" The nurse asked, touching his shoulder. She was American. She was plump with red hair and an annoying laugh.
"What does it look like, lady?" Sands asked her. She was shocked by how hostile he was, but then again, she excused it because at that moment he got down on his knees, moaning in pain.
Remembering everything in his head, wondering how it looked, Sands secretly thanked the little boy who had helped him. Without the boy, he wouldn't be there. Of course, he'd never utter the words 'thank you' to anyone except himself.
"We'll need your name and some ID, and we can treat you," The nurse told him. Sands snapped out of his daze, nodded, and fumbled through his jeans pocket. He handed her his wallet which had holes in it, but contained a source of ID.
"You're with the CIA, aren't you?" The nurse wanted to know. Sands sighed.
"Yeah, but can we please forget that? Please?" Sands begged.
"We'll treat you. Why don't you walk with me, we'll find you a room, this place is a mess lately with all the injured and dead that we're not even asking for paper work. Just come with me and tell me what happened," The nurse offered. Sands sighed.
"I might have to tell you what happened first," Sands replied. He removed his sunglasses to reveal the gaping hollows that throbbed with each second. Blood still spilled from them.
"Wow.." The nurse stated.
"How bad does it look?" Sands wanted to know.
"It's not too pretty, I'll say that," She replied.
"I guess now I always have an excuse to scare someone," Sands laughed, "But you don't know how much it hurts. @#%^ it."
"I can't imagine that kind of pain you're going through Mr.," the nurse glanced at the ID, "Sands. Just take my hand and I'll lead you." She took his hand and he would have protested, but doubted that would be a smart move. "Walk straight." He did.
They moved through a hall. "Turn left." He did. So far it was working. "Turn right." He did and smacked right into a wall. "I guess I should have mentioned that I needed to open up the door.."
"That would have been wise," Sands scoffed. The nurse opened the door and Sands walked in.
"How'd you know it was open?" The nurse asked.
"I'm blind, lady, not deaf. I heard it open," Sands replied, sighing. Now they were in the room.
"Just stand there a minute and I'll get the blood off of your face," The nurse instructed. Sands obeyed. She came back with a wet cloth and gently wiped it over Sands' face. Immediately another drop of blood dripped down his face. She wiped that off, too.
"Don't make any efforts with that, lady. The @%$* blood is gonna keep coming back. Just @%(# it and forget about it," Sands told her. She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her.
"I just didn't want you getting blood on your pillow," She explained. He shrugged. "So what happened to you, anyway?"
"I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say this @(#%* tricked me and it resulted in my getting my eyes drilled out and being shot. A couple of times," Sands replied, "Both legs and my left arm. A kid helped me here."
"Sounds.. painful," The nurse stated.
"No @#(%," Sands laughed, "Where's the bed? I want to lay down." She took his hand again, and again he was going to protest but realized it was better if he just let it go. She took his hand over the bed so he knew where it was.
"Do you want to change first?" The nurse inquired. Sands unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, took them off, leaving him in his boxers. He took off his leather jacket to reveal a tight white t-shirt.
"I'm fine," Sands told her. The nurse shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? "So how long do you think I'll stay here?"
"Until you're better," The nurse explained. Oh how bad he wanted to roll his eyes. "Which could take say, two weeks?" The nurse was only guessing, but she was good at guessing, "We'll have to remove those bullets and treat your.. sockets."
"Two weeks? That ain't bad I guess," Sands decided.
"Do you have somewhere to stay after you get out?" The nurse asked. Sands nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged.
"I'm leaving Mexico. Going back to the states. It's where I came from, you know?" Sands replied. The nurse nodded, again, knowing he wouldn't see her.
"I'm from the states, too. Where are you from?" The nurse wanted to know. Sands was in the process of getting into the bed, and struggling with the covers.
"Illinois. Springfield," Sands told her, "And you?"
"Minnesota," The nurse replied, "But I've been to Chicago."
"That place sucks @$$. It's so @*$# boring. I can't stand it. It's so.. so.. I don't know," Sands stated. A moment of silence passed.
"Are you tired? I can let you sleep and then come back and clean your.. your.." The nurse searched for the right word.
"Sockets?" Sands asked.
"Yes," The nurse replied.
"Yeah, I'm tired. But I still don't know how to go to sleep without closing my eyes. I'll find a way." Sands put his sunglasses on his chest. "Do you have a wet rag or something I can put over my.. sockets?" The nurse handed him one. "Thanks."
The next two weeks went on like that. Sands had to lie in bed all day, try to recuperate. Someone had come in and cleaned his eye sockets, and a doctor had removed the bullets. Sands seemed to be doing fine. Fine enough to be released. And he was released. His next move was going to be the hard one..
"I was wondering if you would call someone for me," Sands told the nurse on the day of his release.
"Yeah, probably. Who?" The nurse wanted to know.
"Agent Dobson. An old.. friend. His number is.. is.. in my wallet. You have that. Tell him to come and pick me up and drive me to the states. He'll do it. He owes me," Sands explained.
Sure enough, Agent Dobson was called and he picked up Sands. Now they were headed toward the border. Ten miles. Five miles. Then they were there.
"What are we going to say?" Agent Dobson asked, frantically.
"No worries. We'll pay him off," Sands replied, smiling.
"You've got money?" Dobson wanted to know. Sands nodded.
"American money. Five hundred dollars. Lost some. I've been saving. Of course, we don't tell him that. We say we have three hundred dollars in American money. Cash. We tell him we need one hundred for gas and food. We offer him, say, two hundred to let us in," Sands explained. Dobson grinned.
"When did you get so @#(%#*% smart?" Dobson teased. Sands just laughed.
An officer approached them.
"I need some ID," The officer demanded.
"Look, we really need to get to the states. We're on business. We've got three hundred dollars in cold, hard, American cash," Dobson began, "We'll be needing one hundred for gas and food, etc. How about we give you two hundred, and you let us in." The officer had to think about it.
"Make it two-fifty and you've got a deal," The officer replied, grinning. Dobson gave him the bills. After counting them twice, Dobson and Sands were in the United States.
"You're insane, you know it?" Dobson asked.
"Just drive," Sands commanded him. Dobson rolled his eyes and kept his eyes on the road.
"Where are we driving to?" Dobson demanded. Sands laughed.
"Illinois. Springfield, Illinois," Sands explained. Dobson stared at Sands for a moment before returning his gaze to the open road.
"Isn't that where you're from?" Dobson asked the fellow agent. Sands nodded. "And who are you going to stay with? Mommy and Daddy?"
"Mommy and Daddy are dead," Sands said coldly. Dobson suddenly felt bad.
"What happened?" Dobson asked. Sands shrugged.
"Don't know. Don't care. Kendra called me on my cell one day and said they were dead, asked if I wanted to go to the funeral. You know what I said? I said '@#(% no.' You know why I said '@#(% no?' Because my family sucks. I think it was some sort of car crash, don't know," Sands explained.
"Then who are you going to stay with?" Dobson asked. Sands shrugged.
"I've got someone in mind, but I won't tell you who until we get there. So drive," Sands told him. Then he sat back and tried to get to sleep.
After a couple days of driving all night, getting no sleep, Dobson and Sands arrived at Springfield. Dobson pulled into a gas station.
"Why are we stopping?" Sands demanded, noticing the car had pulled in and parked.
"Because we're coming into Springfield and you're going to tell me where I'm supposed to go and who you are planning on staying with," Dobson replied. Sands nodded.
"Sounds reasonable," Sands laughed. And he began to tell him. "I met her when I was nine years old. For my eleventh birthday, she gave me my first kiss. That's when we started dating. She was there through everything that sucked in my life. And I was there for her. I was there when her parents split up, when she was having problems with her weight. She was there when my cousin died and I thought it was my fault because he had been at my house when he committed suicide. We lost our virginity to each other. We were always inseparable. And when we broke up, we made a pact that if we ever needed help, we could come to each other."
"That's beyond sweet, Sands," Dobson stated.
"Oh shut up," Sands replied, "It's not sweet. It's what is." Dobson shook his head, smiling.
"And what is this girl's name?" Dobson asked.
"Jessica Anderson," Sands answered him.
"And where does she live?" Dobson wanted to know.
"This is the part where you go inside the gas station, find a phone book, and look up her name. If it's not there, she's married or moved away and we'll screw it," Sands told him.
"All right," Dobson agreed, "But what do we do if we have to screw it?" Sands pondered.
"I don't know yet. I'll think of something. I'm good at thinking quickly," Sands answered him, "Now go inside and.. do as I said." Dobson opened the car and walked into the gas station. A few minutes later, Dobson returned with a piece of paper that had an address on it.
"Did you get it?" Sands demanded. Dobson nodded, then realized Sands couldn't see him. "Did you?"
"Yes, I got the address. 416 West Windmill Drive. Know where that is?" Dobson inquired.
"Windmill Drive? Uh, crap. No. Go get directions. If I had eyes, I could tell you, but I can't since I don't know where we are now," Sands explained.
"@*$# you," Dobson replied, opening the car door and getting out.
"No! @*$# the @*!$@%#@ that took my @#$^%&$ eyes!" Sands yelled back.
In the next minutes, Sands and Dobson had gotten directions and were on their way to Jessica Anderson's house. Then they arrived. All the houses on the street were normal sized, nice looking houses. Jessica's house was kind of small, but not too small. It was a light brown and she had plants and decorations.
"We're here," Dobson announced.
"Now what?" Sands asked, "I don't want you leading me to her door. I don't exactly want to tell her yet. About my eyes. First I'll just say that I'm looking for a place to stay." Dobson thought.
"I have an idea," Dobson laughed, dialing his cell phone. Sands sighed and his cell phone rang.
"What the @*#%?" Sands asked, answering it. "Hello?"
"Hey," Dobson laughed. Sands gave him a 'what the @#*% are you thinking' look. "You get out of the car, I direct you by talking to you in the phone. If you fall, you can shoot me later."
"Really?" Sands asked, with glee. Dobson laughed. Sands got out of the car, phone to his ear.
"Start walking straight," Dobson directed. Sands obeyed. "And now get down on the ground and feel for a side walk. You're really close to it."
"Are you kidding?" Sands asked.
"Does it sound like I'm kidding?" Dobson shot back.
"@*$# you," Sands mouthed. He got on the ground and felt with his hand until he found what felt like a sidewalk. "This it?" He stood on it.
"Yup. Now walk straight on it. I'll tell you when you come to the steps," Dobson replied. Sands did just that.
"@*#%, steps?" Sands asked. He came to the steps.
"Stop. Turn left and walk up three steps," Dobson commanded. Sands slowly, but successfully made it up the steps. "Now walk left and up to the house. Feel for the door, and knock."
"I know what to do when I find the door," Sands told him. He found it, and knocked, hanging up the phone. A woman opened the door. She was a little bit dark, had beautiful, long, blonde hair and big brown eyes.
"Sheldon?" She asked.
"Sands," Sands corrected her.
"What?" She asked, confused.
"Never mind," Sands replied, "Are you married?" The woman stared at him.
"No.." She answered, "Why?"
"Can I come in?" Sands asked her. She nodded.
"Yeah," She said, holding the door for him and returning into her home. Sands followed behind her. He was now in the living room. It was a beautiful living room, mostly white, and had a brown couch and matching chair. The large television sat on a home entertainment system with a stereo. "Come on into the kitchen."
"Straight ahead?" Sands guessed, hoping she didn't pick up on his blindness this quickly.
"Yeah," Jessica replied. Sands didn't hit the wall, but after entering the kitchen, hit the chair. Jessica didn't notice. He quickly sat down.
"So how have you been?" Jessica asked. Sands sighed.
"Not too good lately. Life sucks, what can I say? You?" Sands replied.
"Pretty good," Jessica replied, "What brings you here?" Sands felt a drop of blood roll from his eye sockets down his cheek. Jessica noticed. "What's wrong with your eye?"
"I guess you're going to find out anyway," Sands replied. He took off his sunglasses, revealing his bleeding eye sockets.
"Oh my god," Jessica gasped. Sands smiled.
"I seriously thought you'd scream," Sands laughed, "How bad does it look?"
"Bloody," Jessica replied, "What the heck happened?" Sands returned the glasses and sighed.
"For the past several years, I've been working for the CIA. I'm a @#($*%^ CIA agent. Stationed in Mexico. This big.. thing erupted and this @(#%* who I was 'dating' betrayed me and they took my eyes. Then I was shot in the arm and both legs. This kid helped me out. Helped me to a hospital," Sands explained, "But I made it, after two weeks in the hospital. But you remember that pact we made years back when I moved?"
"That we'll help each other if we ever need it?" Jessica asked. Sands nodded. "Yeah?"
"I need help," Sands told her. "Me. Sheldon Jeffrey Sands needs help. I don't have a place to live and I was wondering if maybe you have a guest room I could stay in. Just for awhile. I promise not very long." Jessica sat there, in shock.
"I have a guest room and yeah, you can stay here," Jessica replied, "Are you gonna be ok?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. It hurts.. a lot. And sometimes it bleeds. Can probably get irritated easily, too," Sands told her, "And I don't sleep well. Probably haven't slept in days, actually."
"Doesn't sound like you're fine," Jessica stated, "How'd you get here?"
"Oh @*#$." Sands quickly dialed his cell phone. "Dobson? Yeah, it's ok to come in now."
"What the @*$^?" Jessica asked. Sands laughed. He's never heard you use that word before.
"Agent Dobson. He brought me from Mexico to Springfield. He's a trooper," Sands explained. That's when Agent Dobson walked in.
"Hi. You must be Jessica," Dobson stretched out his hand to her. She shook it.
"Yeah. This is really weird. Are you staying the night?" Jessica asked, "I have a couch."
"I guess I could stay. If it's not too much trouble?" Dobson wanted to know. Jessica shook her head.
"No, it's fine," Jessica replied.
"What time is it?" Sands asked. Jessica glanced at the clock.
"Five thirty," Jessica told him. Sands yawned. "You guys want something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure," Dobson replied.
"No, can you show me to the guest room? I'm really tired and could use a nap," Sands asked.
"Sheldon Sands turning down food?" Jessica asked, concerned.
"I'm not myself right now," Sands explained, "So.. yeah." He stood up and Jessica took his arm.
"Come on," Jessica instructed him. She led him into the guest room and he laid down on the bed.
"Do you want blankets?" Jessica offered.
"No, I'm fine," Sands replied, sitting back up and taking off his jacket and shoes, then lying back down again.
"Are you sure you'll be ok?" Jessica asked, with concern.
"Yes, I'm sure. Get the *@$! out of here and leave me alone. I'll be all right after I get some fricking sleep and get time to reflect on the @*$^ that I call my life," Sands replied. Jessica let him be.