Five Minute Window
Chapter 38
The large box fan was sitting in the doorway, facing into the room. Turned on high with the shades pulled down over the windows, it was keeping most of the late afternoon heat at bay. When RickyJo woke up her body was sore and her tounge felt like sandpaper. Even the dim light inside the room made her wince and squint her eyes. She brought her hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes so she could try to take stock of her surroudings. Since she didn't know where she was or how she got there, she assumed that she had done a fair amount of drinking the night before. After further investigation she realized she wasn't wearing much in the way of clothing. The cheap sheets under her were stiff and scratchy against her bare skin. She figured at least she had woken up alone instead of in bed with someone she didn't know. Or someone she did know.
Blinking her eyes against the light she forced herself to open them so she could figure out where she was. RickyJo used her palms to shove herself up into a sitting postion. She felt weak and the muscles in her arms shook from just the slight effort it took to push her body up and back. Sitting up made her dizzy and she pressed her hands against the side of her head to try and stop the room from spinning. Once she felt more steady, RickyJo looked around the room. Her surroundings made her even more confused. The place she was in was totally unfamiliar. It looked like some sort of makeshift hospital. She was in a thin bed with railings on the sides of it, both of which were raised to keep her from falling out.
There was another bed in the room, occupied by a young girl with long blonde hair. The girl's blue eyes were open wide and she was looking at RickyJo with a mixture of excitement and surprise on her face. She looked familiar in an unsettling way. Like RickyJo ought to know who she was except no name was coming to mind. RickyJo opened her mouth to speak to the girl. She intended to ask the girl where they were and what had happened to her. But nothing came out except a dry croaking sound.
There was a bottle of water on a small metal table next to her bed and RickyJo grabbed for it, ignoring the pinch in her arm from the IV that was lodged there. She twisted off the cap and chugging down the entire contents in a few sloppy gulps. A hangover was one thing, but this was something different. Something worse. Her gran had been fond of telling her that she was going to drink herself retarded and for a moment she wondered if she actually had in fact gotten drunk to the point of giving herself brain damage. She put away her concerns of possible retardation for the moment to worry about a more pressing concern. Thirst. She had never been so thristy in her entire life as she was in this moment. After she watched RickyJo chug her water down, the blonde girl tossed off the patchwork quilt that was covering her lower half and swung her legs out of bed. She shuffled towards the open door of the room, taking care to avoid the large fan that was partially blocking her path.
"Daddy!," the girl hollered, "Daddy! She's awake!" The girl was wearing plaid pajama bottoms that were too long for her and a snug fitting tank top. Her pants drug on the floor under her small feet. Once the blanket was tossed off, RickyJo could see the girl was sporting a sizeable pregnant stomach under her clothes. She looked a little young to be pregnant.
An older man hurried into the room, shooing the young girl back into her bed. "You're supposed to be on bed rest," he reminded her in a tone that RickyJo could tell meant that it was not the first time the girl had been reminded to stay in bed. Like the younger girl, RickyJo had a weird feeling that she ought to know the older man's name. It was like his name was on the tip of her tounge but her mind was completely blank. Worse than blank, she felt like her mind was clouded by a thick fog. The fog made it impossible to see more than a few inches in front of her. The feeling was maddening and it didn't do much to ease her growing fear about where she was and how she got there.
The man had a soft white beard and kind eyes. From the tone of his voice, RickyJo could tell he had genuine concern for the girl who he had ordered back to bed, the girl RickyJo guessed was his daughter since he hurried into the room when she started screaming for her daddy. He acted like a doctor. But he was wearing regular street clothes. Suspenders and a worn in looking button down shirt. Not a doctor's coat. Seeing him made RickyJo realize she was naked from the waist up where the blankets had slid down. She grabbed the cheap sheet that had been covering her and held it to her chest to cover her nakedness.
The man approached slowly, placing his hand against her forehead first like he was checking her for a fever. Then he pulled out a small flashlight and waved it back and forth in front of her face. RickyJo put up with his examination until he took a stethoscope and started reaching forward like he was going to stick it down under the sheet she was cluching to her chest. Unfortunately for Hershel, RickyJo's survival instincts took that moment to kick in. She smacked his hand away. Next she went for the IV that was stuck in her arm, ripping it out and tossing it away. The clear fluid started dripping out and making a puddle on the floor next to her bed.
"Who the fuck are you?," she hollered at the man, her voice came out dry and scratchy like it had been a long time she she last spoke. Without waiting for a response she grabbed the metal tray off the roller that was being used as a table. A paperback book and half a pack of peanut butter crackers flung against the wall. She hurled the tray in a crude frisbee style at the old man, hitting him square in the chest. He grunted and backed up a few more steps, glancing with a lot of concern at the young girl in the bed next to RickyJo.
"RickyJo!," the girl cried out, "What are you doing? Don't you know us? It's me Beth."
RickyJo turned towards the girl. The girl had called her by name. And not her legal name, the one that could be found on her driver's license and credit cards. But her real name. The name that her family and friends called her by. RickyJo hesitated a moment, but once her adrenaline kicked she always had a hard time dialing back her fear and aggression. This time was no different. She gripped the metal railing on the side of the bed and tried to hike herself over the side. Her poorly formed plan was to escape from wherever she was being held and ask questions later. She managed to swing one leg over the railing but her body was stiff and awkward. Her legs tangled in the sheet she was covered in and she half flung half fell over the railing. Her body hit the hard tile floor with a audible slap.
"Are you alright," Hershel asked. His fear of RickyJo's sudden aggression was overcome by his intense need to help her. He pulled her up into a sitting position. Her arms went around him, helping him by lifting some of her own body weight. For a moment Hershel thought she was being cooperative, until he backed up a step and realized she had used the opportunity to steal the knife from his holster.
"That's enough now," Hershel ordered. He used his firmest tone of voice. The one he usually reserved for naughty horses and his older daughter Maggie. "Hand that over right now before someone gets hurt," he added, moving forward and holding out his hand for the stolen hunting knife. The old man moved with confidence, fully expecting the woman to come to her senses and hand over the weapon before she hurt herself or someone else. When she took a swipe at him instead, Hershel almost didn't make it out of the way in time. The pin point tip of the knife grazed his arm. Beth shrieked as the blood welled up from the small cut on Hershel's arm.
"Hells Bells!," he hollered, backing further away and gripping down on his injured arm with his other hand to keep himself from bleeding any more. Beth let out another yip, unsure what part of the horrible scene was more shocking, RickyJo taking a swipe at her father or hearing her father curse for the first time in her life. Beth watched the woman on the floor, her fear tempered with a large amount of pity. RickyJo's eyes were wide as saucers and she had gathered the sheet around herself and managed to position herself against the wall next to her bed. She was gripping the knife so hard in her hand that her knuckles were turning white. Her hands were shaking the worst but her whole body was quivering, making her toes tap out an awkward rhythm on the floor under her feet.
"Holy shit!" The voice came from the doorway and RickyJo turned her attention from the old man to a much younger one. He was average height and had a handsome face and wavy brown hair. Like the other two people he looked familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. Another name lost in the muddled fog of her mind. "She's awake," Rick announced. That was one word for what RickyJo was at least. She was not only awake she looked like a rabid animal. A knife was cluthed in her fist, a drop of blood on the tip of it from where she cut Hershel's arm.
"Get Bethy out first," Hershel ordered when he saw Rick was coming towards him first to see how badly he was hurt, "she only knicked me." Rick nodded and headed towards Beth instead, making sure to keep a close eye on RickyJo. She had gotten the jump on him before and he didn't intend to let it happen again. Despite dying twice and being resessitated twice and being in a coma for over a month he wasn't stupid enough to underestimate her strength or how quickly she could move. Making that mistake once was already one time too many.
"RickyJo," he said, trying to keep his tone from sounding overly threatening. He could see that RickyJo was already scared out of her mind and he didn't want to make the situation worse. At the sound of her name, she looked up at him, her hazel eyes so wide with fear that they looked almost black. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to get Beth out of here so she can be safe. Do. Not. Stab. Me." RickyJo didn't nod or give any indication that she understood him, but she did stay pressed against the wall as he walked further into the room and gently lifted Beth up into his arms. His cowboy boots clacked against the tile as he hurried from the room with his precious cargo.
"I think someone better go get Jessica or one of the brothers," Hershel called after him. Rick called back that he was already on it.
Jessica. RickyJo snapped back into focus when she heard the woman mentioned. That was one name that was not lost in the fog. Jessica was her cousin. Her sister. Her best friend since the time they were little enough to still be dressed in matching pigtails and poofy white sunday church dresses. Jessica meant wild copper hair and freckles and staying up giggling about boys and it never felt as good when anyone else brushed her hair as it did when Jessica brushed it.
RickyJo griped the knife and waited. She focused on trying to get her breathing under control to stop herself from hyperventelating. She hugged her knees to her chest and prayed. RickyJo hadn't prayed since she was a little girl but she prayed that Jessica was really coming and that these horrible fog people weren't playing some kind of evil trick on her. She kept a close eye on the old man but she also watched the doorway, waiting for Jessica to appear.
As the seconds ticked by, RickyJo felt worse and worse. Her hip and shoulder throbbed from her fall from the bed and she was having a hard time keeping herself alert. She felt nauseous. Mostly she just wanted to lie down on the cold floor and close her eyes. But she waited, tightening her grip on the knife in her hands.
Jessica did not appear in the doorway. Instead it was someone else RickyJo knew. He was familiar. Much more familiar than the blonde girl or her father. As she tried to pluck his name from the fog RickyJo got an old hazy memory instead. She was one the beach, her toes in the sand. The water was cool and the waves were rushing in, wetting the hem of her long dress. The man's hands were on her. One on the bare skin of her back and the other grazing down to stroke over the curve of her ass. He was kissing her. Really kissing her. Open mouth. Eyes shut. Her hair blowing around them in the ocean breeze. None of the hesitation in him as he kissed her that she was seeing now as he hovered in the doorway of the medical room. As the memory faded back into nothing the man's name came. Daryl. RickyJo noticed her vision blur from the tears before she realized she was sobbing
"Move slow," Hershel warned the man, "she's a little confused." Daryl nodded. He did as Hershel said and took a few slow steps, approaching her the way he would approach and injured animal. But once he saw RickyJo burst into tears he rushed at her. He took the knife from her first, Daryl wasn't stupid. Crying or not, he saw the blood on Hershel's arm where RickyJo had cut that tough old sumbitch. But his caution was unneccesary. She had no more resistance in her. When Daryl pulled the knife from her hand she let him take it. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Home," she pleaded, "Take me home." He just held her in his arms and let her cry, not having the heart to tell her that he didn't even know where home was anymore.