Captured!

We are held in a small, sterile looking room. An older woman is hiding under some blankets in the corner, but the terrorists have me tied down with a plastic rope of some kind. Sweat is popping up all over my body. I am not a trained terrorist-fighter or even a person they would want. Nonetheless, these bad guys surprised us somewhere and are holding us captive. I must have blacked-out during the capture for I only remember awakening here--wherever that might be.

We are hostages of these fanatics who are dressed in uniforms of some kind. I do not recognize them. They did not have guns when they came to check on us. I suppose they are afraid I will grab one and kill them.

I have no idea who these evil-doers are, or what they want with the woman or me. Perhaps they were sent to retrieve me and the woman was just collateral capture. Or, perhaps they meant to get my roommate. I am now sweating profusely. The enemy has me hooked up to what I thought was a truth serum. I now believe it to be some drug to erase my memory for I am having some hazy moments. Seeing clearly is becoming harder. I am unconscious for periods of time.

“Sh-h-h!” I say to Mother who I now recognize as my mother. Two of them enter the room. They wake Mother and take her from the room. Oh, God. “Please don’t hurt her,” I yell at their retreating backs.

My mother shuffles back a bit later. Thank you, God! Tears streak her face. Her hair is stringy and messed up. Her eyes are red and puffy. She has come back with a blanket around her. Is she trying to hide marks of a beating?

She comes to me, kisses me, and puts a cold, wet rag on my forehead. She whispers, “Help is on the way. Everything will be alright.”

Is she crazy? Did they brainwash her while she was gone? I have to get us out of here before more terrorists arrive. Mother returns to her corner and the blankets. I hear her praying.

I am strapped down but the perspiration on my body is helping me slip an arm out of the restraints. I am twisting and pulling my arm up…..further up…..I have to get my mother out safely. I need to get her attention and see if she can help me, but she doesn’t answer my whispered pleas. There! My arm is free! My head is pounding and I must wait out a coughing spasm. Then, I jerk the plastic they have tied my arms with. Blood spatters the walls. I hear noise and look up to see terrorists coming through a hole in the ceiling with their Uzis pointed at us.

Mother raises up and I throw myself across her body. “I’ll save you, Mother, “ I shout. “See all the terrorists coming to get us?”

“No,” she rasps.

I point to the ceiling where they are streaming in by the hundreds.

The room is filled with them. They are removing me from my mother. I am yelling as I try to fight. But, there are too many of them. They force me back on the bed and bring in large machines. They lay heavy cold restraints on my body strapping me down.

“Hayden, be still,” my mother says.

I look at her and find she is helping them hold my legs down. What is going on? Is my mother a part of these people? I look at her askance. I hold a hand out to her, but she refuses to take it. “It’s alright, son. Please be still.”

I want to believe her, but I see and feel what is happening. I am not stupid. They are putting an IV in. They have my body covered in those cold plastic blankets and the machines are aimed at me and turned on. I feel the cold air as it hits my molten body. My vision begins to recede, first peripherally, then totally.

I begin regaining consciousness. I look around. It’s the same room. All the terrorists are gone. Mother is sitting in a chair by the bed. When she sees my eyes are open, she runs from the room.

“Doctor! He’s awake!”

My mother, a man, and two women come into the room.

“Mother, are these people terrorists?” I squeak hoarsely through a very sore throat.

“No, sweetheart. They are not terrorists.”

“Momma, I want to believe you," he says hesitantly. I trust you. You're my mother, but didn’t you see all the terrorists coming in here from up there?” He points at the silver sprinkler sticking out of the ceiling of his hospital room.

“No, honey. You’ve been extremely sick. You don’t remember coming to the hospital by ambulance from your apartment?”

“No.” I looked at her askance.

"It has been a brutal four days. You have two kinds of pneumonia and your temperature shot up to 106 degrees two days ago. We covered you in ice packs and brought in big fans to get your temp down to a reasonable level."

The man spoke up. “Hello, Hayden. I am Doctor Blair and you have been very sick. You’re better now. But, you certainly have kept us entertained. The best thing to do is rest. You need lots of sleep. Do you have any questions?”

“You’re telling me the truth? You people aren’t terrorists?”

Dr. Blair laughed, “No, not today, although some of the nurses think I am.”

“Momma?”

“Yes, Hayden?”

“Are you sure?”

“Very. Go to sleep. Don’t waste that good medicine they just put in your IV.”