Chapter 60- Suspension

You know that feeling when you know you need to wake up but your body is unwilling to cooperate?   When you can hear your alarm clock going off but your eyes just won't open?  Most of the time this happens its because I'm dreaming about being asleep.  I can't wake myself because my real body is still sleeping.  Its not until I realize I'm in a dream that my real eyes burst open.  Too bad, because if I could consciously realize I was in a dream, I imagine I could have a lot of fun.  I always wondered how Leonardo DiCaprio did that in Inception.  How did he know he was in a dream and stay asleep?  

I try to force my eyelids open but they refuse, and my mind races through my body, trying desperately to remember where I was and what I was doing. I have the strangest feeling of vertigo, as though the whole world is upside down. It's dark, and there's pressure on my waist and on my shoulder. I manage to open my eyelids wide, but still can't see much, like I am looking though dark sunglasses or some invisible blindfold.

Attempting to make sense of the darkness I realize I can't hear through my left ear.  Its like a bubble is clogging the hole, like when you surface from doing underwater flips in a swimming pool.  I shake my head and feel a sharp pain rip across my skull and down my spine. I reached my hand up to my ear and felt a warm trickle of blood collect on my fingertip. I'm hurt?  How?  As I ask myself my mind flashes, recalling boney fingers pulling on my head, trying to pull me out of a truck window.  Instantly all the memories of the past few weeks flood into my mind and I gasped as I remembered where I was and what I was doing.  A wave of panic washes through me, turning my veins to ice and sending fear through my body.  

The fog on my eyesight began to lift and I could see I had obviously failed to "jump" our truck over the highway barricade and was now suspended upside down in the ruin of what was once our only mode of transportation. The smell of engine oil and burned rubber filled my nostrils.  I was still buckled into the drivers seat, and looked over at the passenger seat next to me, hoping Oliver was okay.  The seatbelt was undone and he was gone. "Oliver!" I called out, instantly worried that he was injured or worse. My call was met with a soft moan and I squinted to make sense of the road, stretching on ahead for miles.  A few pairs of shuffling feet approached me awkwardly but deliberately, attracted by the sounds I had foolishly made.  Canned goods spilled across the road ahead, and they rolled away as their shambling feet moved closer.  

Suspended upside down, I push the button to my seat belt only to come crashing down onto my head

Trying to be as quiet as I can, I struggle to release the safety belt that holds me suspended. With my weight pushing against the buckle it won't release, and I wiggle back and forth, trying to alleviate the pressure on the clasp. I push hard and the buckle pops and I crash onto my head and shoulders in a heap. Pain surges through my scalp as my head hits a mix of canned goods and broken glass, and I drag myself through it, trying to escape the cab of the truck so I can stand up.  

As I pull myself through the window I see the stumbling silhouettes move even closer, converging on the truck, their arms outstretched.  I can't see their faces, but I can hear their soft grunts as they move forward, trying to corner me.  I look around for something to use as a weapon, anything to defend myself against the approaching horde.  As I step to my feet I place a hand on the overturned truck, steadying myself against the vertigo in my head.  I close one eye and try to make sense of my surroundings. I'm still feeling foggy and I don't know why.  I look up to count my assailants.  Two, three, no five, all approaching steadily.  They are moving slow enough that I should be able to outrun them, but as I take a step forward I feel a sharp pain in my leg.  I reach down and feel a shard of glass lodged in my thigh.  I could remove it, but I remember my first aid training from being a Boy Scout as a teenager.  It might be the only thing stopping me from bleeding, so I leave it.  

My options are growing smaller.  I may not be able to outrun these monsters, and they definately outnumber me.  I have no weapon, and I might have a concussion.  The one closest to me is now less than 10 feet away, and I can see his pale yellow eyes in the starlight.  He reaches for me, emitting a gurgling sound like he's choking on something in his throat, and I feel my adrenaline surge but know I am powerless to escape.