I screamed out, "NO!" and passed out.I woke up. It couldn't have been very long. There were small smoky fires coming from the equipment, the ceiling tiles were destroyed and the old guy was lying upside-down--legs up-- in the corner. I felt something like constant thunder in the back of my mind. It seemed to come from deep below me, but it was damned strong.Oh, they tried to patch me up, but the way my body healed--or rather didn't heal-- made it an exercise in futility. I got more scars and my mobility was even more limited. My left hand just lay in my lap with the fingers curled. It was a devastating blow.It wasn't long before the base diplomats received a demand from the Comyn Council for me to appear before them. There wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it. I got angrier and angrier. The thunder in the back of my mind became louder--more real.I was wheelchair bound and was glad for the escort. The streets were made from cobblestones so old that a person could easily trip in. She asked about how the furniture moving had gone, and I almost drew a blank. Just then, Jo shrieked from upstairs and I remembered that I had 'helped her move furniture' that week and made up a lie on the spot about moving her bed around so she could see out the back yard better and how she had helped me move the box springs and mattress. She asked what I had done last night, and it was another one of those moments, as my mind immediately flashed to Connie and I dry humping in the front seat, but I just said we went to the dance. And yeah, I dropped off the electric bill, and got an A on my math test, and passed the American history exam okay, and all the rest of the week in review stuff that mom asked about. Finally she asked to talk to Kathy and I said I'd go get her, as she had a new Beatles album and she and Johanna were upstairs playing it and I doubt if she'd be able to hear me if I just yelled up the stairs, as she had it cranked up. Mom said she thought it was the radio in.
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