CHARLIE HEART

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FOURTH STREET AND LOCKET LANE

FOURTH STREET AND LOCKET LANE

When I wake up I realize that this is the third time I’ve woken up today. Any more times and my brain might just not snap on again. Now I’m snail, a bruised sluggish snail. I’m sweaty and heavy and slow. What was in that tranquilizer? Where is Bruce and Tommy? What time is it?
         A young nurse walks into my room, blonde. “Now, your going to be a good boy and stay put now aren’t you?”
         That voice is very familiar. I turn my head to look but all I can see a blur.
         She puts her face in mine and smiles. This is when I go cold and can’t feel my feet and hands. She doesn't smile, she just glares for a second. I have too many questions and things I just want to yell all cramped up that nothing comes out. I just open my mouth and glare right back.
         A man walks into the room. He nods to two security guards sitting outside of my door. He has a white coat splashed over him, but he’s not a doctor. A real doctor wouldn’t slam the door behind him and try and lock it. But there aren’t any locks in a room like mine for obvious reasons. He swears softly out loud in French and walks over to me. He throws the clipboard on a chair and says something to the blonde in French. She responds in the language fluently.
         Like I said, I wish I knew French.
         I say,“What the...”
         Cassie says, “Shut up.”
         The doctor rubs around the little white bandage keeping his broken nose together.
         “Now listen carefully, Charlie.” She pulls out a pistol and drives it ruthlessly into my mouth, up against the left my left tonsil.
         I want to almost laugh because I’m so confused. I’ve had guns pressed up in my stomach, against my head, and even in my crotch, but I’ve never tasted one before. It strangely tastes like blood. Like warm charcoal and blood. Not that I’m a vampire, but one who has swallowed enough can assume.
         Cassie says, “Let’s go.” She uses the gun to pull me up with the inside of my cheek. This hurts almost as bad as having a catheter ripped out.
         Boy-Toy-Doctor swings an empty bed around, one with wheels and Cassie tells me to get on. After detaching from my current bed again, I obey.
         “Where are we...”
         “I said shut up,” whispers Cassie.
         I have never seen her so... in charge before.
         Frenchy wraps my face with a white cloth and everything goes black. Well, no, everything goes white. A big white nothing, just sounds of wheels rolling and doors opening. I did hear them say something about going through the attached room to avoid any trouble. Then everything after that was in French.
         As I roll I keep counting down to the perfect time to jump off and start running again, but I never do. Something in me is curious I guess.
         When she wipes the sheet off, we are in an empty pale hallway.
         Cassie says, “What did she tell you?”
         I say, “Put that thing in my mouth again and I’ll tell you.”
         She hits me in the side of the head with it and then actually puts it back in.
         I mumble, “Now is that really necessary?” When I start laughing is when she takes it out again. I don’t know why I’m laughing. People never blame themselves for going insane, but they don’t have the excuse I do.
         “What did she tell...”
         I shout, “Who?” At first I am thinking Sheila. What did Sheila tell me? Really? If I tell you that you are going to shoot me.
         “Sara! What did Sara tell you.”
         The French boy keeps looking around the corner, standing guard. Good dog, good dog.
         “Now, are we talking about Ginger, or Sara? Because, I’ve apparently never met Sara until now. If She is a twin, I’m very much partial to the nicer one, just letting you know.”
         Her face doesn’t change for anything except her eyebrows crunching down toward her nose.
         She shakes her head.
         “Now, wait. How do you to know each other by the way? I think I missed that part.”
         Cassie muscles the end of the gun into my jugular.
         “Charlie, just tell me what she said,” she pleads.
         There was no way, If I had a chance to get out of this, that I was telling her. Then I make the mistake at looking down at the note strapped in my waistband. I just look for a second, but it was enough.
         She gives me a confused look then goes digging. She feels everything until she finds it. In order to read it properly she backs away and points the gun with an outstretched arm. When she is done, she takes a deep breath and says something in French. She looks at me, then back to the paper. Then more French.
         I smile in hopes she will say something in English again. I say, “So what’s the verdict?”
         She sighs, “We need to have a little talk about Miss Jainkins, Charlie.”
         I am thinking, It’s about time, but I don’t say that.
         “But first, we need to get out of here.”
         She tells me to lie back down. I do it, but reluctantly. It was the best way of getting out. She covers me up and I was back to my world of white and sounds. My breath heats up my face at every exhale. It makes me feel moist, I am a tropical.
         I am actually impressed they got me out. I was even more impressed that they were driving a BMW seven series. This makes me want one.
         Cassie drives and French gets put in the back seat. Good boy. Now is when all my questions start spewing out and every once in a while Cassie looks like she going to pull her gun out again.





THANK YOU FOR READING SO FAR. I HAVE ENJOYED YOUR COMPANY.
THE NEXT CHAPTER IS CURRENTLY BEING WRITTEN. PLEASE COME BACK SOON FOR THE REST.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, DEARLY TO ALL THOSE WHO ARE KIND ENOUGH TO GIVE ME A HARD CORE, HEART FELT REVIEW. AND YES, THE GRAMMAR NEEDS SOME MAJOR HELP. I WOULD BE WILLING TO PAY A GOOD EDITOR A LOT OF GPS TO HELP ME OUT ALONG THE WAY WITH THIS, JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE.

IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU, THAT MAKE PEOPLE LIKE ME, A LITTLE CLOSER TO BEING ABLE TO CALL THEMSELVES WRITERS.


YOU NOW REALIZE YOU ARE A RAINDROP SLASHING INTO THE GROUND. YOU REALIZE YOU ARE BEING SUCKED INTO A SEED THAT CLENCHES YOU AND EATS YOU UP. YOU ARE A FARMER CUTTING THE WHEAT THAT GROWS FROM YOUR SEED. YOU ARE A LOAF OF BREAD IN MY MOUTH.
YOU ARE A BOOK ON A SHELF.



THANKS AGAIN.

~CHARLIE.