Where Am I

His consciousness faded back into his head like a mist rising from a lake. His mind focused on his eyes. What was he seeing? Nothing, blackness, was he blind? No, he was surely dead. That’s right, his most recent memory was his execution. He had exhausted his appeals and pleaded to the Governor and every deity for mercy. But he remembered standing on the platform with a bag over his head, the hangman checking and rechecking the placement of the noose, he even remembered the sudden drop.

And now he was in blackness, he couldn’t feel anything, is this the afterlife? His first impulse was to look around for the proverbial bright light. First problem, it seemed as though he couldn’t move, or if he was moving he couldn’t tell. No feeling, no vision, no sound, no taste but his mouth was dry. Oh, wait a minute he could smell that bag on his head, as the matter of fact he could feel the bag was still on his head.

Then sounds, a blast of sounds, a door opening some beings walking in, the door closing behind them, hard shoes on a bare floor. They didn’t speak, they approached, they stopped right below him, he floated down till his head rested on something hard and smooth. They slipped the noose off over his head, he realized he had not been breathing since they came in. He gasped a great breath, and almost instantly voices rang out.

The first voice exclaimed, "Shit!" it seemed to be moving away and down.

The second voice laughed. "Man, you just jumped out of your skin, scared you silly.

"I noticed you backed up pretty quick." The other replied.

"Well shit, he breathed in," the second voice defended. "I heard them blow out before, but he breathed in."

He wondered if he should say something, if he could say something. As the laughter subsided, he ventured a question, "Am I dead?" More 'oh shiting' and moving around at a safe distance followed. He tried again, "Is this Heaven or Hell?"

"Man we better tell somebody about this." The second man said.

The beeping of a phone being dialed followed, three digits. Then the first man spoke. "I think we might have a problem, I don’t think the prisoner’s dead. Yes, it looks like his neck’s broke, his head’s laid over like it ain’t connected right. Okay, we won’t touch him till the doc gets here.

It seemed like hours, maybe days. Nobody dared speak, he because he was still in the dark, they because they didn’t care to strike up a conversation with a corpse. Finally the door opened again and footsteps once again approached. A new voice stated flatly, "he has a pulse and he’s breathing, let’s get this hood off.

The light in the room made him blink and finally settle on a squint. He saw the white coat of the doctor first, then moving his eyes up saw the face, wouldn’t you know he’d be an Indian. Then it came to him, he blurted out. "I can’t move."

"I shouldn’t wonder, your neck is badly broken." The doctor responded.

"But I’m not dead?" he asked.

The doctor got a puzzled look on his face saying. "Apparently not. Quite unusual."

As was his habit, he sought immediate gratification for his slightest needs. "My mouth is really dry, is there anything to drink around here?"

"Let’s get you immobilized first, then we can move you up to the infirmary." The doctor said.

The first man asked. "Why would you want to tie him down?"

"If his head moves it could kill him." warned the doctor.

The second man, obviously thinking along the same lines as the other guy asked. "And that would be bad because he’s not supposed to be dead?"

"He’s already been hung, we’re not allowed to kill him." The words left the doctor’s mouth and struck like a knife into the hanged man’s consciousness. He couldn’t be executed twice for the same crime.

Straps were placed around his forehead and the doctor spent a lot of time working on straps around his arms and chest although he could only see the process, he didn’t feel a thing. When the strapping was completed they rolled him out the door down the hall and into an elevator. He had time to think. Thinking about it he realized he had lots of time to think. Pretty much all he could do is think, for the rest of his life. Then he remembered the father of his victim at the sentencing hearing. How he bawled and complained that death was to good for him. That he should suffer the way he made that father’s young son suffer. Then he prayed that God would send him to an especially hot corner of Hell. Of course that was fifteen years ago, right now it seemed like yesterday.

They got off the elevator and rolled down the hall to the infirmary. Inside, the doctor slipped on a glove and stuck an ice cube into the paralyzed mans mouth. "Try not to choke on that," he said, "until we can determine weather your digestive system is functioning, that’s all you get."

He hadn’t realized that he might not be able to eat.

He had never wished he was dead in his life. Before the hanging, the lousy priest that they sent to talk to him told him to accept his fate, and embrace death. He never believed in God, at least not since he was 'like' nine. His mother believed in God big time and she died believing that he would heal her. No he wouldn’t listen to that lousy priest then and by God they better not bring that stinking bible merchant in to see him now.

The doctor was on the phone, he woke up the warden. Evidently the warden told the doctor that the law was clear, he’s a free man. The doctor came over and asked him what he wanted to do.

"Check me out and see if I can eat," was his immediate response.

"I’m afraid that you are no longer under our jurisdiction, so I’m not authorized to treat you." the doctor avoided liability. "I can call for an ambulance to transport you wherever you want to go."

"Where the hell can I go? I got no money and I don’t know anybody I can ask for help." He growled.

"County General it is then," the doctor said and left the room.

Alone again, the man was once more forced to review his helplessness. That sappy father from fifteen years ago could just find him and kill him and there was nothing he could do about it. Hell, that might be better than the life he had to look forward to. First thing tomorrow he was going to get him a lawyer and get the legal ball rolling over them prison people for botching his execution. If he was going to veg’ in some whole, he may as well have enough coin to get him a nice whole. Maybe a hot private nurse, or would that be more frustration then it’s worth. Damn, this was sucking more at every turn, and as much as it started out sucking that was hard to believe.