Mike really wasn’t sure about this. The throne-style chair in which he sat creaked, the dust made him sneeze and the room was smelled lightly of petrol. The hospital so bright and clean compared to this, the pastel green paint may be peeling, but the floors shone and huge windows lit up the wards and offices. What the hell was he doing down here with this guy?
The basement had a small rectangle window close to the ceiling that was caked with dirt, letting in a little light and the odd flash of a shadow passing by.
People walking past the window.
Some of the equipment was familiar and reassuring, such as the needles on trays, the ECG machine and its stickers on his body. Some needles has wires on them though, and that confused him. They shone under the dim lights, clean and sharp. He didn’t know what to expect.
Until Dr Morgan started pressing the needles deep into his legs.
No one heard him down in the basement, under the layers of concrete.
He wasn’t sure if he passed out or threw up. Possibly both, the air smelt foul but Dr Morgan had finished with the needles. Through the blur of tears, the doctor looked different now, wild hair and wide eyes, shaking hands and quick movements.
“Are you ready?”
Mike couldn’t find his voice, couldn’t tell him no, that he’d changed his mind, that maybe they should do this later. Maybe they shouldn’t do this at all. He wanted to walk again, he needed to walk again but he was doubting his decision now. Doubting his own desperation even. He’d been desperate to walk again but not like this.
Morgan smiled at him and Mike watched as the man followed the thin red wires to a set of generators, some with handles, some without and bizarrely, Mike thought, every one a different colour. The doctor started turning on switches, each one roaring until Mike was deafened by the sound and tried to close his eyes to it, as well as press his hands down hard over his ears. Tapping his arm, Morgan asked him if he was ready, mouth moving slowly, making each syllable visible. Mike nodded. He felt they had gone too far anyway.
Both he and the generators were attached to a little black box, no display and just a single switch.
He closed his eyes again. Tried to remember how the hell he’d ended up down here in the first place and he heard the final switch turned.
There was pain, bright and burning, his legs kicking up, jerking and jumping. His legs – heavy and hurting – were moving, for the first time in months. He smiled, forced his lips to curl up through the intense burn of the electricity flowing into his muscles. He tried to open his eyes to look at the doctor, but then, then when he did open his eyes there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
***Note : This post is written for us by Rhi who is an anxious geek and poet, living in Wales. Blogging, writing and sleeping as much as possible and who blogs at www.scruffy-duck.net .