a modern fantasy RP forum

Accidents Happen [Zeke]

· 1 · 1054

Offline Beejoux

  • Posts: 107
    • View Profile
Accidents Happen [Zeke]
« on: November 16, 2019, 09:16:13 PM »
[Wednesday, October __.  3:17pm]
Hey, I know you're not up yet, but I wasn't sure if I'd see you before tomorrow.  I'll be out of town until Sunday night, I got invited on a research dive to an old shipwreck off the coast in Florida. 

Feel free to stay at the apartment, you know where the key is.  Make yourself at home.  If I don't see you tomorrow, maybe I'll see you Sunday?  Dunno how much service I'll have on the boat, guess we'll see...

Talk to you later. 

[Thursday, October __.  7:49pm]
Just got on the boat.  I knew we'd be sleeping in close quarters, but I swear these costs are for grade schools.  Don't think I'm going to fit.  Oh well.  Still worth it.

Hopefully you're taking advantage of a big empty bed.  Hopefully your not out doing anything foolish.

[Saturday, October __.  5:50pm]
God damn, that was amazing!  I've been diving before, but this is the first time I've been to a reef this size, or legit shipwreck.  Apparently it was a trade ship out of the Amazon that got caught in a hurricane.  Real bummer for the people that went down with it, but it's teaming with sea life. 

We also found some old box with a few old coins, and this wicked looking amulet.  You can see it later.  Everyone else wanted the coins, their loss.  This things old as fuck.  Maybe your magician friend can take a look at it?

Anyway, dinner's almost done and I'm going to bed early, cause it's gonna be busy morning and a long drive home tomorrow.  I'll call when I get home if your not there. 

[Sunday, October __. 8:36pm]
911, what is your emergency?

There's a car on its side off the 95, northbound.  It looks like it rolled a few times.  There's a man in the driver's seat, he's not moving.

Can you see if he's still breathing?

I think he is...I can't really reach him, but it looks like his chest is moving. 
... there's a lot of blood, he needs help.

EMTs are on their way already.  Can you see where he's bleeding from?

His head and his left shoulder.  I can't see the injuries though.

That's okay.  The paramedics are five minutes out.  I'll stay on the line with you until they arrive.  Just let me know what's happening with him…

The water was warm, like bath water.  Stretching out on all sides into inky darkness, save for a pin prick of soft, wavering light from above.  Panic sent a rush of bubbles from his mouth, brought in a choking lungful of salt water, and he had to struggle against the urge to cough, to bring in even more water.  Instead he clenched his teeth and swam for the surface, but it was too damn far, he wasn't going to make it…

His body felt heavy, like something was trying to drag him under. Like the water itself was holding him back, pulling him deeper. 

He made one final, futile thrash, arm stretched up towards the fading light, before the last of the bubbles escaped and the tension drained from reaching fingers. 

He woke up gasping for air, sucking in great, desperate gulps to fill his lungs.  Sweat dotted his brow, soaking into the hospital gown and the sheets draped around him. He'd sat up, much too quickly, and motion jostled injuries he didn't even know he had, pulled his attention down to his hand taped to a board with an IV stuck into the back of it. The broken ribs forced him back down with a pained grunt and a lengthy hiss through clenched teeth.  Moving hurt.  Breathing hurt.

Everything fucking hurt. 

What the fuck had happened?

The last thing he remembered was eating breakfast with the rest of the dive crew…

Later he'd learn he'd flipped his car.  That he'd sustained a pretty serious concussion when his head hit the window on the door, breaking it.  Two broken ribs, 3 bruised, thirty six stitches between the gash on his head, the cut on his forehead, and the piece of glass that'd sliced through his shoulder.  They'd told him he was lucky.  That it was a wonder he hadn't gotten hurt worse than he had.  That he'd even survived. The Jeep was totaled.

They'd salvaged his phone—screen cracked through the center now, notifications filled with texts and missed calls—his bag, keys, and apparently the amulet he'd founding in the shipwreck.  He'd been wearing it on the drive home.

Three days in the hospital.  Half of that time spent unconscious, the rest spent making sure there wasn't any obvious brain damage.  The headache had been sharp and long lasting. He still had it when he'd been discharged.  The painkillers they were sending him home with helped.  Dulled it to almost ignorable, but dulled everything else along with it.  Made him feel worse than drunk.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to summon the Uber...