Green Desert - Chapter 6.1.1 - Fírí

The pain subsided enough for me to feel coldness on my forehead. Cool, wet pressure. A damp cloth.

The flurry of buzzing sounds in my head coalesced into someone saying, “. . . when the helicopter arrives.”

Helicopter? What helicopter? I didn’t need to be airlifted out of there, did I? I wasn’t going to die, was I?

I opened my eyes and saw the young deputy––Laparıpasamé––tying off the thick wad of white cloths around my foot. My thick, bulbous, gargantuan foot. But no, that was just the bandages.

“Am I okay?”

He cinched the last knot and looked up at me. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“But why are you bringing a helicopter?” I pulled my foot off the table and, as slow as I could, set it on the floor. My heel hit the linoleum with a thud.

The cop delicately picked up the bloody, dirty bit of trouser leg. “I don’t know anything about a helicopter. I’m going to drive you to the hospital now, just to make sure we get you treated right.”

But I was sure I heard “helicopter.” I looked into the living room and saw the front door close. It must’ve been someone there. Must’ve.

“C’mon. Let me help you up.”