New Story

Here is my most recent piece of fiction. Its a work in progress. I had to rush the ending a little to get it in on time, so it could use a little polishing. Also, there might be a swear or two in here. Enjoy them.

Nursing Wounds
F.K.Montgomery II

The pit of my stomach is tense, begging to spew. My head is pounding thick, feeling full and dense. My limbs are burning and tingling. My fingers are asking to move but are somehow denied. In the deafening silence all I hear is a beeping. Like a metronome in a cathedral it echoes in my head. My eyes feel open but all I see is dark, and something smells like rotting egg.
“Head trauma in room four, come on in and shut the door,” a high-pitch voice says.
A cold hand with thin, inhuman fingers grabs my arm pressing on the inside of my elbow. I’m not home, am I?
“Heart-rate is one thirty two, a little high for someone like you.”
Me? I attempt to scratch out the word but hiss instead. I clear my throat to try again.
“Me? Where am I and who are you?”
“You’ll be fine Mr. Jack, I’ve got to go but I’ll be right back. You’re in safe hands here, so have no fear. This hospital is the best place for you now, I’ll return after checking a cow.”
What the hell? She’ll be back after checking a cow? Wait. I’m in the hospital? How did I get here? Am I Mr. Jack? That doesn’t sound right to me.
“Back in flash, I promised I would, helped the cow, I knew I could.”
“What are you talking about? And why are you talking that way?”
“Lets unwrap your head, you’re lucky you’re not dead. Soon you will see, things are as they should be.”
“Damnit, what is going on?”
She slowly pulled off bandages over my eyes and hair in her own time while I waited, seething, not understanding anything. As she approached the final layers light started to seep through the waffle print bandage, a fuzzy infinite grid of promised brightness. The last layer peeled past my eyes and “Holy Shit you’re a mouse!” The words slipped past me, a bullet bursting from my barrel of a mouth.
“Of course, of course, don’t be alarmed, I promise, I promise, you’ll be unharmed.”
“Well, yeah, I’m not all that concerned about a mouse harming me, but where the hell am I and why? What is going on?”
“You’re in the ICU, Mr. Jack. You seem to have fallen and given your head a crack.”

+++

Jack and Jill went up the hill, as you may well know, to fetch a pail of water. Their son was sick in bed with a cold. It was usually his job to get the water. He would carry two buckets at a time, strung to a long pole like you’d imagine him to, the pole resting on his neck. He was twelve years old and his parents were in their thirties. It was the first time they’d fetched water in recent years.
It was a warm autumn afternoon. One of the first days of the year when all the trees would decide to shed their leaves, spreading them over streets and sidewalks, yards and bikes. The green grass, sprinkled with brown and burnt orange, crunched as it was crossed. Jack crunched through the yard, keeping time with his feet after shutting the back door behind Jill, who was two measures ahead of Jack now. They began their ascent, each with a bucket in hand.
They were quiet, but not silent, enjoying the soft breeze that fall would always bring. Jack was thinking about his long day at work at the candle factory while Jill planned dinner in her head. The hill that held the well at its top was the tallest hill in town. They soon both began to think about this.
When they reached the top they were both exhausted. They sat side by side, legs crossed, Jack’s hand in Jill’s. Jack noticed for the first time in a while a twinkle in Jill’s eyes. Maybe he’d been too caught up at the candlestick factory, jumping over candlesticks constantly, or maybe he had let the flickering flame fade. But in that moment, he was lost in Jill for the first time in so long.
“Were you the one who left all the dirty dishes in the sink, honey?” Jill asked quaintly.
“Yes, Jill. It was me.”
“What the fuck Jack. I’ve told you a thousand times to put your dishes in the dishwasher.”
The couple rose to their feet immediately, the blades of grass bowing to their created draft. Jack had a look on his face, a marriage of concern and disbelief. Jill’s face was red and fiery. In Jill’s hand still, the bucket. First her right leg pivots at the knee, her flats striking Jack firm on the shin. His concern and disbelief quickly divorce and disbelief starts dating anger. Jill’s left arm flails with the turning of her body, hitting Jack firm on the neck. His anger grows up to become rage, and disbelief flees. It’s all too late after Jill nails him hard and heavy with the medal pail, square on the head.
Jack’s body falls limp over Jill’s, pulling them both back down the hill they climbed. On the way down the hill, like two rag dolls tossed down stairs, Jack’s head finds a rock in the hardest way possible, breaking his crown. Jill finds her share of bruises and cuts on the way down, applying them liberally to her appendages, as the bodies come to a rest on even ground.
“Jack….?” Jill queries, “Jack?”

+++

“Ma’am, please explain to us your side of the story.” The cop said.
“You see, officer, I warned Jack a thousand and one times, if he dirtied dishes and didn’t put them in the dish washer that it was going to be the last of him,” Jill said.
“Ma’am, despite the dirty dishes, what you did was assault. Assault on your own husband.”
“Yes, officer, I am well aware. But he brought it upon himself.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard that before. Peter Piper, the same Peter that grew up to be The Pumpkin Eater, locked up his wife up in a pumpkin because she would slip out at night. Yes, he warned her, but holding someone in captivity against his or her will is a crime. Now, I’m going to have to hold you here overnight.”
“Against my will?”
“This is different, very different.”

+++

The smell is making me sick. It’s the sterile sting of hospital floor cleaner blended with rotting egg. Dear God, that rotting egg smell! What is that?
“Ugh… man, this doesn’t look good,” A raspy voice says from behind our fabric division wall. I try to ignore it, but it goes on. “Ugh…. Ugh… is anyone out there?”
“Keep it down, I’m trying to rest.” I say as patiently as I can.
“You gotta help me. Please.”
“Look man,” and I reach up and pull the curtain over so I can look him in the eyes, “whoa.” I’m frozen in time.
“What? You’ve never seen another man’s yolk before?”
“Are you… an egg?”
“Humpty is the name. Humpty Dumpty. I’ve seen you around before. Jack, right? Look, I’m in incredible pain. I’m shattered like glass and no one can put me together again. Can you page the nurse or something?”
I don’t remember much, and talking eggs isn’t on the list. This feels more like a nightmare than anything. I reach down to my pager to call the nurse. She arrives almost immediately.
“I came quick, fast as a tick, to relieve your pain so your life will sustain,” the mouse nurse said. Geeze, this creature is annoying.
“What happened to me?” I said.
“Your wife you upset, then your life you forget. Now you are here, and things seem queer. Give it time, you’ll get used to the rhyme, things will come back, and again you’ll be Jack.”
Wow. “Ok, so, I’ve upset my wife, who I have no recollection of, I don’t remember anything, there’s a reason you’re rhyming, and eventually things will be normal again?” That sounds a little ambitious. “And I’m Jack?”
“Dude. You have amnesia.” The rotting egg said.
“Shut up you cracked out monster. I’m sorting through this.” I said.
“Look man, this place is a rough place. Just hours ago, three legally blind mice came in here all bleeding from the rear because some old hag chopped off their tails. Old King Cole died of lung cancer last week. Worst of all, some jackass left their child in a tree, in its cradle. As soon as a strong wind hit, the baby fell to the ground right before the cradle. Who knows if the fall ended that poor child or if the cradle did, but I don’t want to think about it. Things have a sick way of repeating themselves around here too. Our cases are nothing special. That means us survivors gotta stick together. I’m here for you. What little pieces are here, I just hope you can learn to offer me the same.”

+++

“So I guess we’re roommates.” Jill said to the unsightly old woman, whose wrinkles made her look like a cross between a Shar Pei and monkey.
“Looks like it,” her voice was smoky.
“What are you in for?” said Jill.
“Child neglect and abuse. Twelve accounts. The court ruled living in a shoe as unacceptable. And you know what? Back in my day, we could beat our children if we needed to. I provided what I could. It wasn’t much, but still they’d complain, one after the other, all twelve. Making ends meet can be hard; you wouldn’t believe the mortgage on a huge shoe. And with the economy…”
“Yeah, I get it. Just keep to yourself alright?”
“Sheesh. What’d the man get you for?” asked the woman.
“Husband abuse. The fool couldn’t clean up after himself. He had it coming, I swear to you. He’s probably still in the hospital. I whooped him pretty good on the head with a tin bucket, and then he took a few rolls down the hill with me. But that doesn’t matter, I told you to shut it.”
“Easy tiger. No need to get your panties in a twist on my account.”
Jill sighed at plopped herself down on her thin twin mattress with standard issue sheets, heavily starched. “Unbelievable,” she thought, “just unbelievable.”

+++

It’s been two weeks since I woke up in this unfamiliar place. It still smells the same, minus the egg rot. Poor Humpty got moved to a different facility where they said they might be able to handle his case better. Part of me worries it’s the kitchen.
I’ll be released today. Time has been crawling slowly and I am ready to leave, to return. The sad thing is that I don’t know what out there holds for me. My memory has not returned. They said they’d be surprised if it ever returned.

+++

“One hundred hours of community service,” Jill laughs, “I’m out of here!” Jill was amused at how miniscule her punishment was. She would do it again in a heartbeat if she had to. She figured she would just volunteer as a crossing guard or something for a while to let this all blow over. She wondered about Jack though.
She began her walk from downtown back home. Main Street would take her past the market, past the fabric store, past Jack’s candlestick factory, past the bakery, past Wal-Mart, past the hospital, and then it was a clear shot home.

+++

I stepped past the automatic doors, stepping from tile to concrete. At that moment I decided I would be a drifter. I’d go where the wind takes me. I’ll be none the wiser. I’m a man without a past, a blank slate. I am free.
I step from the sidewalk of the hospital onto Main Street. I watch my feet as I walk. I notice a shadow coming my way and I glance up. “Wow.” The words slip from my mouth, as I’m awestruck by her. Some woman I’ve never seen before, standing before me, still. I’m caught by a twinkle in her eye.
“Hi.” Her delicate voice says.
“Hello…” I stumble, “I’m Jack,” I say.
“Oh,” her voice says with a hint of surprise, “my name is Jill.”
“Jill. That’s a lovely name…”

+++