That Tingling Sensation

I’m fucked.

My friend Ray is bleeding out from a stab wound to the gut which has pretty much marked him to die and all I can think about is the pain from a bullet wound in my side and that damn tingling sensation that’s making its way up my toes. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s only a flesh wound, a graze at most, and that in couple of minutes, when I catch my breath, I’ll be able to stand up and walk outta here. I’ve never been that good at persuasion without using my fist. And seeing as how I don’t really feel like beating myself up, I'm pretty sure the end is near.

Damn it hurts. The guy who got me was good. Better than I thought he was. Usually they pick out guys who have no brains about them. They do that so when they die, no one really misses them. Guess they got sick of trying to find people who were willing to die. Who woulda guessed. Wish I woulda been told…

Ray coughs up a blood bubble as I notice the tingling make its way into my ankles. It’s started anew in the tips of my fingers. Can’t really decide if I’m just going to let it go or try to shake it off. Don’t really feel like doing either. I suddenly wish that Marta was here. She’s probably out there somewhere, taking care of the rest of them fuckers we came here to kill. When she plays assassin, she’s a goddess. She moves like liquid calm. And when she’s killing, it’s art. I wouldn’t be surprised if the last thought in the minds of them guys she kills is about how creative of a killing artist she is. It takes skill to become like Marta. Skill I’ll never be able to achieve.

Neither will Ray.

It’s too bad about Ray ending up dead. He’s a good guy. As good as assassins comes. I guess it’s his morals that sets him apart from the rest of us. No women or children. He kills only when it’s necessary. If he can finish a job by cracking someone’s skull and leaving them with a headache instead of putting a bullet through his head, he’ll do it. I’ve always liked that about him. And as his head lolls to the side, I know that he’s dead.

The harder it gets to hold my eyes open, the more I start to think about what death is going to be like. I’ve always thought that it would end with a shudder and then nothing. You just cease to think, cease to function. But now I kinda hope that there’s something more. I don’t want to just stop thinking. I live off of my thoughts. Even when I sleep, I always concentrate on the nothingness. When you’re dead, you can’t even do that.

The tingling’s reached my elbows and knees now. I can’t seem to keep my head up. The wall behind me is the only thing keeping me upright. I’m wishing I’d told Marta that I love her. Always will. No matter what. Not even death will change that. Just wish there was a way she knew about that.

How come whenever someone’s dying, they’re always thinking about love?

I try to think of something else, but nothing really comes to mind. Maybe I should have called my brother up. Never really knew the guy, but I still feel bad. He is my brother and no doubt he’ll be getting a phone call from my mom. She’ll probably be sobbing over the phone. I can picture them at my funeral. They’ll probably be the only ones who show up, unless they drag along a few friends. Mom will be the only one crying. David sure as hell won’t cry. We used to be friends, when we had to be. But we were different from the beginning. We fought all the time. But we didn’t really hate each other. Just sort of fell out. I’ve been told brothers do that sometimes.

Marta’s got a brother and for some reason his faces pops into my head as the tingling sensation spreads it’s way across my chest and torso. My head’s the only thing not tingling, but it’s sure as hell spinning a lot. I’m not seeing straight anymore. Things are starting to blur. I can’t really concentrate much on coherent thoughts, but Marta’s brother is floating in front of me. Funny. He died two years ago in a car bombing. He’d been my best friend. It had been meant for me. Marta never knew that part, but I’d like to believe that it wouldn’t matter to her. Marta’d killed the man who planted the bomb herself. She’d made it unusually bloody too. I would have like to have done it myself, but sometimes you have to let Marta have her kicks.

From somewhere, it’s like a dream and I hear Marta’s voice.

She sounds a little frantic and I wonder what she’s fussing about. I’m hoping it’s not a spider. I’m one of the few people who know that Marta doesn’t like bugs and she’s one of the few people who knows that we share the commonality.

That tingling sensation is starting to get worse and now it’s hurting all over. I’m getting colder, but when I shiver it hurts in my side. I vaguely remember the bullet. I realize my eyes are closed, but when I try to open them, they won’t respond. Enraging little shits. I feel a warm hand on my face and again, Marta calls from somewhere distant, somewhere behind a wall of cotton. Her warm, gentle hands move my head and the world around me, locked in a sheltering darkness, seems to spin faster than I’m able to move. I immediately forget which way is up and which way is down.

There’s copper in my mouth.

The warm hands leave my face for a second and coldness rushes to take it’s place. But I’m left hanging for only a second before a harsh, awakening slap is planted firmly on my cheek. The darkness seems to fade for a moment, but then starts to come back. It’s interrupted by another slap, and then another. Marta’s cussing at me. I hate it when that woman cusses at me. Sometimes I deserve it, but other’s…God only knows what this woman wants from me.

I decide that being cussed at when I’m lost in a dark tunnel isn’t fair, so I try to open my eyes. They seem fluttery for a while, and a giant blob of color is standing in front of me. I recognize the color as Marta’s hair. She has beautiful hair. I’m finding myself with the sudden desire to touch it. But I can’t seem to get my arms to work. Panic makes my eyes open wider and I concentrate of focusing. I notice at once, that through the rushing of blood in my ears, Marta is talking to me. I try to listen.

“God Damn it, Corbin!” I wonder what I did to piss her off this time. “Come on, wake up.” I see she has blood on her face. I instantly focus on her. Is she hurt? Where? God, please don’t let Marta be hurt. I can’t seem to find a cut on her. She brings her hand up to smack me again and I realize she has blood on her hands. They’re soaked red. Is she crying? “Wake up, damn you.” She cusses a stream of words I’ve only heard her utter once before. And suddenly I realize the blood is mine.

I let out a moan.

“Corbin?” Marta’s eyes focus on mine, searching them for something. I stare back at her, waiting for her to tell me what to do. “Corbin, can you hear me?” I try to nod, but the motion sends the world whirling again and that damn tingling sensation rears up throughout my body, pinching my visions closed. But Marta gives me another smack and I’m suddenly looking at her again. “Corbin, I’ll get you out of here.” she tells me. Yeah right. I’m too tired to go anywhere. As though the thought awoke a notion I had forgotten about, the darkness descends heavily. I can’t really think anything now.

I don’t remember falling asleep. My mind distantly thinks that perhaps I stayed up too late watching the game. I do that sometimes. Probably missed half the game…ouch. Someone’s prodding me in my side. It feels awful. I try to lift a hand to swat them away, but someone grabs my wrist. I panic for a moment before I feel a soft hand on my forehead and Marta’s dreamy voice whisper into my ear. “Quiet, Corbin. It will be over in a second. You’re safe.” And I believe her.

The darkness comes again.

“Corbin?” God what time is it? It must be late if Marta’s here to wake me up. I wonder who we have to whack tonight. “Corbin, come on.” Damn she’s a persistent woman. All right, I’m coming. I open my eyes and become fearful at the effort that action had taken. It takes a while for me to focus. It must have been one hell of a party. My eyes move to the side and I see Marta sitting there. I realize she’s holding my hand. There’s tears in her eyes. I’ll kill whoever put those tears there. “Corbin?” She asks and brings a hand to my forehead. Her touch is incredibly soft and I bring a smile out for her. She loves it when I smile.

Marta laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “Thank God,” she says. I’m wondering what she’s thanking that prick for. She rubs my hand again. “Corbin, do you know where you are?” Of course I do. Don’t I? Nope, guess not. I shake my head. “You’re at Dr. Lovitt’s. It’s the only place we could take you. Do you remember what happened?” Um, nope. “You got shot, Hun. But you’re going to be okay now.”

Shot? I got shot? No way.

But the more I think about it, the more I remember. I had walked into that room and from up above us, through a window, a bullet had met my side without warning. I’d stumbled to the wall. I turned to shout at Ray, but someone had already gotten to him. He stood clutching his stomach. I suddenly remember Ray and the bubbles of blood I’d seen burst from his throat. Oh, so that’s what Marta was crying about. I mouth the word “Ray” to her, as I can’t seem to find my voice. She just shakes her head and it’s confirmed that he didn’t make it.

That tingling sensation finds its way into my chest. Poor Ray. I hate the tears that come to my eyes, but I accept them. Ray deserves a few tears. He was a good guy.

Dear lord, I’d been shot. How long was I out? I can’t seem to voice my questions, but I don’t panic. If Marta’s here, then everything must be all right.

Marta leans forward, so her face is close to mine. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, cowboy. You hear me?” She asks. I nod and grin, though I can feel it doesn’t come all the way out. She grins back. “I thought I’d lost you.” Lost me? I want to tell her that was impossible. I want to tell her that she’d never lose me, not even if the world opened up and sucked us into different dimensions. I suddenly want to scream out to the world that I love Marta McClellen, woman extraordinaire. But I can’t. But I guess it’s a semi-clear croak because Marta smiles again and leans down for a kiss.

I feel that tingling sensation again, but this time, I know it’s not so bad.