Herdnan- Chapter Eleven
A splitting headache. A cramp in his tail. A throbbing pain in his left arm. A tingle in his right leg. Back to the headache. The pain taking turns between his body and his head. And on top of it all, there was an annoying throbbing glow.
What in fucks name did I drink? He thought to himself. No. It was better not to think. It hurt less.
He cracked his eyes. A light was throbbing. No. His head was throbbing. The light was flashing. Flash. Flash. His eyes were still heavy and hard to keep open. Flash. Flash.
It was an orangish light. Flash. Flash. His head was still whirling, and it felt as if he was suspended. Flash. Flash.
He was unsure of how long it was, but at last he could open his eyes for a time. Flash. Flash. He knew that he must have been drugged by Skreft. Everything was still whirling a bit. He closed his eyes again till his balance was whole again. Whatever it was he drank, he hadn't the foggiest, but at the very least he seemed to be coming down off of it.
His eyes opened fully. He was in the driver's seat of his Pontiac. But, something was askew. The windshield was spider webbed, steam was floating out from under the hood which was bent and crumpled.
The annoying flashing light was nothing more than his left turn signals' light glowing on the side of the concrete wall his car was near.
He looked down and saw that his seatbelt was on securely, cutting off circulation to his leg. He fought with the buckle, but couldn't get it free. He growled and grabbed the shoulder strap and started chewing through the belt. It only took a minute using his razor sharp teeth, and he was able to gnaw through it, snapping the belt. He noticed that it was a little easier for him to breathe. And he could feel his right leg again. He pulled the ends free of himself and pulled on the car door handle.
The door popped open with a squeak and he tumbled out of the car. He landed in four inches of cool water with a splash. His arm laced with pain. He had a bruise and landing on it felt anything but wonderful. He grabbed the car door and pulled himself up to his feet from the stream he landed in.
He leaned heavily on the car door. His legs were still had a very gelatin feeling. He looked around. He was out in the middle of nowhere apparently. He was next to a bridge crossing the small stream half of his car was sitting in. It was dark where he was, nothing but ferns, palm trees and other tropical foliage surrounding his location.
He looked over his car which was in sad shape. The two front tires were both flat, and the rear axle was snapped. He looked up the shallow slope where he had apparently driven down. His car had ricocheted off of several palm trees, leaving a bumper, some paint and the passenger side mirror behind.
The front of his car was crumpled up against the tree where he had come to a rest.
"Fuck." He said. He gimped back to the car and dropped onto the driver's seat. He worked to clear his head and get his bearings back. As he sat, he felt over his bones. Somehow, by some miracle, he hadn't broken any. It seemed that he had only bruised his arm. He grabbed his keys out of the ignition and grabbed the few things he had in the car.
He got out and kicked the door shut, shattering the driver's side window. He walked around to the trunk of his car and opened it. He grabbed his duffle and tossed it over his shoulder. He closed the lid and turned, looking where he had rolled down. He started plodding up the hillside, stepping over the parts of his car that had been ripped off to the road.
Here, he saw where he had taken out several wooden posts and a bridge sign. He cracked his back, and looked up the road each way. It was beyond dark out in the country. He had no idea where he had driven himself, and the moon has since set.
"Where was I going?" he asked himself looking down the dark road. It curved to the right and disappeared behind the dense trees. He looked at his watch. It was just after one in the morning. It was going to be a long night.
He started heading back from the way he had apparently come from, following the blacktop.
As he walked, he noticed that there was a funny taste in his mouth. It was salty in nature, chalky and somewhat familiar. He stuck a finger in to see if it was blood. When he did, he felt dried clumps of his fur.
It suddenly dawned on him. After he passed out, Skreft must have skull fucked him. But what the question that followed that was why was he driving if he was asleep, and most importantly, where was he at now and where was he going to?
He continued plodding on down the dark, quiet street breathing in the warm, humid air. He kept his eyes peeled for any signs that might give him a clue as to where he was at. He was unlucky in this venture as the only signs he passed were ones for the speed limit.
So on he walked through the silent night, putting untold miles behind him, listening to his shoes squish from the stream he fell in. When he looked back to his watch, it was three-fifteen. A light fog had settled, covering parts of the road in small bands.
He rounded a corner and sighed with relief as he spotted some form of civilization. It was a small highway diner in the middle of another bend in the road. It was an older looking diner, as part of it was an old box car container with a small addition built onto the front.
A single painted sign stood by the road with a yellowed light shining on the faded paint. "Deep Forest Diner." It read. Not the most clever name, but it at least was something.
Surprisingly, for the hour of the night it was, there were several vehicles parked out
front of the diner. A Freightliner cab, a '98 Ford Taurus, an '00 Chevy Astrovan and two state police cruisers. He stopped up short when he saw the police cars.
He was going to ask where he was exactly and perhaps use a phone to call Kiryan. Not now. Not with cops inside. If walking around with a stuffed duffle bag, and a pack back in the middle of nowhere at the wee hours of morning wasn't suspicious enough; certainly his damp, ragged fur appearance would be.
In fact, he wasn't even sure how he looked completely. There was no telling what that drink he took could have done to him. Plus, he still smelled of the rum and cokes he had drank earlier. The last thing he needed was a run-in to a police station.
He scratched his head and pondered what to do. He turned from the road and ducked into the thick foliage butted against the ribbon of highway and picked his way through the underbrush, various palm trees, pines and willows.
He found a small clearing where he could set his things down and still see the diner. His eyes picked up much detail in the darkness which engulfed the diner, and anyone inside certainly couldn't see out very far.
Not that anyone could see in the darkness outside anyway. He looked inside the windows of the diner to see a burly bear wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up sucking down a pancake on the far end of the counter. The truck driver.
Four police officers, two dogs, one jaguar, and a fox were sitting in a booth drinking coffee, eating sandwiches and talking amongst each other. A few booths closer to him, a husband and wife, both otters were enjoying a late night hamburger.
He scratched his chin in thought of what to do. He didn't want to stay out in the woods all night waiting for the diner to clear out only to wind up having the police called on him due to suspicious behavior.
He scoped the scene once more. Everyone was still just starting their meals, clearly in no rush at all. Cymaenie was actually unsure of what to do. It seemed that his only option was to stow away in the semi cab and...
A rear door opened and a cranky looking fox stepped out with a bag of garbage. She dumped it in the dumpster and took a drag on a cigarette she had hanging out of her mouth.
She stood here for a minute, taking drags, and tilting her head back, letting the smoke drift out of her nose before blowing it into the air. She cracked her neck, dropped the butt and snuffed it out with her foot. She turned and headed back into the diner, closing the metal door behind her.
Cymaenie then noticed the black '78 Chevy Blazer parked next to the diner. He whirled around and dropped to his bags. He quickly unzipped his duffle and pulled his shirt off from over his head. He set this on the ground and quickly set to unpacking his bag, placing the contents on the shirt. He laid his sword, gun, and backpack out, then grabbed his shoes and his soft, silky spandex shorts.
He sat, and untied his shoes, pulled them off along with his socks and stuffed them back in the duffle bag. He quickly unfastened his belt and slid his shorts off. He tossed these into the duffle and then slid off his underwear.
He snatched up his new shorts and slid the form fitting material over his sheath. He adjusted the shorts and started affixing his gear.
It didn't take him any time at all, and he was soon ready to go. He snatched up his bags, and started skirting through the trees around to the back of the diner.
Once he was out of view of the windows, he stepped out into the clearing and quickly ran to the truck. He opened the door with no problem and jumped in. He quickly looked around and saw that the keys were still dangling in the ignition.
He almost couldn't believe it. He threw his things to the passenger side of the seat and jumped back out of the truck. He snuck carefully around to the opposite side of the diner. There wasn't much room, but it was just enough to fit the truck through. He slid along the side of the diner. The windows were blocked by blinds. And sitting at the corner of the building was the semi.
He quickly sprinted back to the truck and popped the transmission in to neutral. He stepped out and started pushing the truck. It was extremely heavy, and took all of the muscle he had just to get it moving.
He rolled it backwards and turned the wheel so it was aimed towards the street. He pressed the brake with his paw to stop the truck from rolling backwards.
He fought the wheel back over, then ran around behind the truck and pressed into the tailgate. His feet slid on the loose dirt, but he kept pushing as hard as he could. Slowly, the truck started moving forward, crunching over branches and some loose gravel.
He got it to a slow walking speed, then ran to the driver's door and pushed on the jamb so he could steer the truck. He was soon at the road. He turned the Chevy onto the direction he was still heading and kept pushing around the corner.
He looked back, and once he was sure that he was far enough away, he climbed in, closed the door and twisted the keys. The Chevy started up, he dropped the trans into drive and tore off into the night.