“Just keep your eyes closed and rest. We’ll be there soon.”
“Be where? And can you help me sit up?”
Silence. I try again but I can only raise my back. It’s like there’s nothing grounding me to what I guess is a stretcher, like only the top part of my body is helping me move. I swallow hard, trying again. My fingers clamp onto the sides of the stretcher.
If I dig my heels into the mattress, I’ll get enough leverage to sit up.
I try again but only feel my back pressing into the mattress.
Panic bubbles in my chest.
I wiggle my toes.
At least, I think I am.
“I can’t feel my legs or my feet,” I choke out.
Another pause of silence.
My eyes fly open, and I yelp in pain.
“Why can’t I move my legs?”
“Sir, you need to relax. Just stay still. We’ll be there soon.”
Sweat beads on the back of my neck. “Be where?” I rasp.
“St. Michael’s.” The EMT has a grave look on his face. “Do you remember what happened?”
My heart thunders in my chest. “The light…a car came out of nowhere…then I was floating.”
“You probably felt that when we were wheeling you over to the ambulance. You were knocked out from the force of the crash. Your head hit the side window pretty hard.”
I raise my hand and graze the left side of my head. My fingertips find a huge bump, and it fucking hurts.
“I can’t move the bottom half of my body.” I repeat the words but still, they don’t respond.
Am I fucking paralyzed?
Fear grips me. I clench my fists tight, holding the sheets in my sweaty palms. The next few minutes pass by in a blur. Or maybe I just passed out again.
I’m moving again. Floating. My heart erupts in my chest. I wiggle my toes. At least, I think I do since I can’t feel a goddamn thing. I poke my legs with my fingertips as I’m wheeled through large red double doors.
Fucking nothing.
My throat constricts, sweat pebbling my skin.
Faces with pinched expressions hover over me.
“Let’s get him in for a CT scan ASAP.”
I’m rushed down a hallway and around a corner and into a room. Two orderlies lift me onto a table. A doctor in a white coat talks to me about what’s going to happen next. But white noise fills my ears, drowning out his words. I take a few deep breaths to control my racing heart, but nothing helps.
“We’re going to slide you into the machine now, Zak,” someone says. “You’ll hear loud banging noises, but you need to stay perfectly still.”
“Am I paralyzed?” I blurt.
“We’re going to find that out after we evaluate these images,” a nurse says. “We’ll know more soon. Just relax.”