Jess

His head was muddled and it was dark. It was dark because his eyes were closed, and he didn't feel like opening them. His head hurt. He considered that briefly, then became aware that his antenna also hurt. Soon, he added his brain and his antenna to the list, and thought it might be more productive to make a list of what didn't hurt. No, that produced nothing.

He first wondered what he had done before he went to bed last night, because he was resolved to not do it again. He tried to stop thinking about anything, because it hurt to think.

Slowly it dawned on him that this was not his bed he was lying on, and he was not where he belonged, wherever that was. He thought there had been an elderly woman, or was it a man who was elderly? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He suspiciously squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the ivory walls or the bullet or the couch. He closed his eye and moaned dolorously.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a plain man carrying a baton walk into the room. The man laid the baton on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Now what?, looks like Mister Hell-raiser is coming back to life."

He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"

"I'm stoked, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Jess.

That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to pace. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"

"Alrighty-roo, your questions always come in pairs?" Jess walked to the refrigerator and got a glass of fruit punch. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied uselessly, feeling a bit more amiable.

"Well, it wasn't the Audubon Society that sent you here," Jess replied bitterly.

"And this doesn't look like a hospital. By the way, where's the bathroom? Who are you working for?" He did need the bathroom, but he also wanted to scope the place out a bit. He wasn't forgetting the baton on the table next to Jess.

"There you go again. That's two questions. The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing with his head.

Sitting up slowly and gingerly, he looked around the room. The bathroom door was to his left. The other door was in front of him, beside Jess who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and a couch in the room. There was a basket on the couch.

"If you're thinking about picking up that basket, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Jess judged elatedly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the basket at the moment. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning after he stood up, bracing himself on the head of the bed. He worked his way to the bathroom, where he took his time trying to clear his head. He splashed some water on his face, then swung back to the bed and sat down. His throat was beginning to burn.

"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"

This seemed to genuinely amuse Jess. He laughed out loud, then repeated "You won't be needing a cab to get where you're going."

Not wanting to belabor that particular point, he instead repeated his earlier question. "Who are you working for?"

"So let's you tell me who you're working for, and why you were snooping around like a monster back there in the flower shop." Jess rapped his fingers on the table beside the baton.

"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"

"You tripped on a cardboard box. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Eddie Bransen," he lied. "Who do you work for, and why are you keeping me here?"

"Nobody's keeping you here. That would be way too much trouble. Who wants to deal with an elderly guest? We just wanted to chat while we help you get back on your feet."

"Okay, we chatted and I'm on my feet," (barely, he thought to himself), "so I'll just be prancing on. Nice talking to you, Jess."

Although his throat was still burning, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the baton. Jess stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly bold manner. Ignoring Jess's sober leer, he recklessly zoomed out of the room.

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