Tick of the Clock by Travis Clemmons

Author:Travis Clemmons [Clemmons, Travis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

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“Of course you exist,” Chelsea Watson asserted, as the two of them walked into the Fayette County Medical Centre and headed for the elevator. “Your name is Tommy Ray Crabtree and I believe you’ve suffered what medical science calls a TBI … a Traumatic Brain Injury.”

“Why are we here?” Sherlock asked, realising they were no longer in a courtroom.

“A number of side effects can manifest from a TBI,” Chelsea continued, as they stepped out of the elevator and she lead him down a hallway. “Paralysis, various memory or coherence problems, cognitive dysfunction. I haven’t seen any concrete information on learned information being transformed into what someone believes that he or she has actually lived, but it is certainly within the realm of what could be possible. And I honestly believe that this is what seems to have happened in your case.”

“But why are we here?” Sherlock asked again. “Why are we in this building? Are you trying to involve me in some sort of medical testing?”

His companion said nothing. Instead, she stood there and stared silently as a surgical recovery team wheeled a gurney towards the two of them. As the team reached a point about ten feet in front of him, two orderlies turned the gurney to Sherlock’s left and pushed it into a hospital room.

“Is that it?” Sherlock asked as he turned and looked for Chelsea Watson. Oddly, she wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Tommy Ray!” he heard a woman’s voice shriek. Then the words “Oh Virgen Madre!” were spoken in Spanish.

Turning around again, he saw an attractive young woman, collapsed on the kitchen floor. Her hair was blonde. Her skin was dark. The look on her face could only be described as agony.

A pot had been knocked from the kitchen stove and water was spilled on the tile. That issue was of secondary importance at the moment. His primary concern was that the emergency operator seemed to be taking an eternity to answer his telephone call.

Just as he reached over and turned off the burner, he heard a voice that said “Fayette County Nine One One. How may I assist you?”

“I need an ambulance,” he said.

“And what is your location?”

“Three seven one Maple.”

“Maple street or Maple Drive?”

“Drive!” he snapped. Yes, they needed to know, but hurry!

“Is the ambulance for you or someone else?”

“My wife.”

“And what is her situation?”

“She’s not quite eight months pregnant,” he responded. “She screamed a couple of minutes ago and I ran into the kitchen. She’s on the floor. She’s in extreme pain. The crotch of her jeans is filled with blood and it’s beginning to run down onto the kitchen floor.”

Ginger was most likely haemorrhaging, and that was bad. It was all very bad.

“We’ll have someone there in about seven to ten minutes, sir.” the voice said. “What is the best way to enter?”

“The front door.”

“Is it currently unlocked?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll go do that for them.”

He ran the distance of almost forty feet, dodging furniture along the way. After unlocking the door and opening it for the paramedics, the man found himself looking into a hospital room.

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