“Sub Q?”, came a query.
“Eye Em!”, exploded the reply, “Now!”
Instantly, the polar paws were on his gluteus maximus and a faint whiff of alcohol preceded a sharp jab into his flesh.
Harry’s jaw clenched. The glacial grabber was kneading his muscle into a mass of frozen bun dough.
“That should be sufficient, Nurse”, a nasal voice dripped. The arctic appendage slowly slipped form Harry’s firm backside while the voice ran on. “Please ensure that the staff keep Har…eeee..ah..uh, I mean, this hairy, uh John Doe.. sedated until I am ready for him. Doctor Slaughter will be arriving in a few days to assist with the operation. Until then he is not to leave this bed.”
Harry’s brain backstroked. Foggy faces bobbed above him muttering jumbled jargon. The muddled gibberish that had been simmering like alphabet soup in his Broca area boiled into gray hash and just as Harry’s tenuous grip on reality slipped into a halcyon haze, the faint but unmistakably vile voice of the vicious vixen plowed a bitter seed of horror into his dirt black consciousness.
“Sweet nightmares, Harry. Heehheeeeheeeeeeeh!” she hailed in a blizzard of jaded laughter.
How long the maniacal laughter ricocheted through his sedated synapses Harry knew not. He did come to realize, however that her ghastly guffaws had prevented the total loss of his conscious state. The malignant fear that had rooted in his fertile consciousness had germinated into a beanstalk. A beanstalk which enabled him to climb from his drug induced suppression and peer cautiously over the cloudy edges of somnolence into a distant earthbound clarity. The minutes slipped into hours, the hours into days and Harry did suffer with uneasy remembrances of a blazing inferno deep in his past.
To be continued….
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