They were drilling holes in his head. Small holes that were rounded into perfect circles and would lead them straight to his brain. When they were finished scooping out the continents of his head they would take his eyes. More perfect circles.
Randy woke up with a panic.
"Hey! Hey, man," came a familiar male voice. "How are you doing?"
Randy blinked a few times. His eyes wandered around his room and stopped at his wrapped up body as it laid in the hospital bed. What happened?
"What?" Randy his head slightly and looked at his friend. "Joe?"
"Man," Joe laughed triumphantly, almost hysterically. "I'm so glad you're awake! I thought what happened to me was bad. I'm sorry man. How are you feeling?"
"Like hell," Randy raised his good arm up to his head. Half his face was bandaged. The throbbing was unbearable. No wonder he was having dreams of little men drilling holes in his head.
"You sound better," Joe licked his bottom lip and paused for a moment. "Do you know who I am?"
"What?" Randy blinked at him. "Joe come-on. I'm in pain. I'm not suffering from amnesia."
"Hey!" Joe threw his arms up in the air. "You've been talking crazy shit all weekend. I was just checking to make sure that you were as awake as you seemed to be."
"All weekend?" Randy put his arm down. "What day is it?"
"Monday," Joe sat down in the seat positioned next to Randy. "You've been here since Friday night."
"A whole weekend?" Randy exhaled his words with complete disbelief. "Tell me what's going on. Anyone else?"
"Eric was poisoned." Joe stopped abruptly and looked behind him to the door. Didn't want one of the nurses walking by and hearing them. "He's okay. Survived all the rules. Still don't know what's going on or who's behind it. At least, not for certain. Michael has ideas. No one was put in the hospital like you."
"Who does Michael suspect?" Randy whispered. A shot of pain bounced around the inside of his head, shooting from the back to the front at the mention of 'hospital' and the fact that he was the only one put there."
"Zack," Joe admitted.
"I can understand why he'd suspect that but does he have a good reason?"
"Because of you!" Joe's eyes became large and he sat back in the seat. "Man! You really were out of it! You were nuts! Talking crazy shit. REAL crazy. You kept saying Thomas did it."
"Thomas?" Randy heard his voice but it was too unreal. Suddenly, he felt as though a cloud was starting to lift from his mind and objects were coming into focus again. "Thomas is dead."
"I know," Joe quickly answered. "I know that, we were all there. But that's what you kept saying to Michael. You were freaking out. Wouldn't let up on it, man. Crazy shit."
"I was in the basement," Randy began slowly as he tuned his fuzzy memory. "I was walking down the stairs and I needed to get the laundry. I made it down the stairs and started towards the dryer. The laundry was already out and even folded. A note was laying on top."
"A note?" Joe echoed.
"A rule," Randy corrected himself as he recalled touching the paper with his fingers. "Then . . . then I was on the floor and I was hurting so bad in the back of my head."
"Did you see anybody?" Joe asked.
"I saw a shadow of someone." Randy closed his eyes and tried to outline the figure on the back of his lids. "They had a hat. He was wearing a hat."
"Are you sure?" Joe placed a hand on Randy's shoulder and pressed carefully. "Are you sure he was wearing a hat?"
"No," Randy breathed out. Something wasn't coming together right in his mind. What was it? "I'm not sure of anything."
"Just rest," Joe urged. "Michael will be here later. He has some stuff to do and then he'll be here for the night."
"There was a hat." Randy declared out loud. There was something else. "I know there was a hat."
"Just rest man," Joe smiled suddenly and his dark eyes shined with relief. "Welcome back to earth man, I missed you."
Randy looked at him and sighed.