Empty eyes. Nothing there. No glint, sparkle or life. Never seen eyes so vacant. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If that is the case, this guy's soul went missing. He moves weird. Tics, shudders and spasms, then dead still. It's strange, and unnerving. He doesn't look at me, and I'm glad. Those dead things filling his sockets are freaking me out.
The ride is quiet so far. Too quiet. His mind spins faster than the wheels carrying us to the ER. Tension fills the space between us. Tension never stopped a charging bull, I'd rather have a fence between us. Chain link. Barbed wire. Maybe electric. And a bazooka in my hand. Not this radio.
Can't out run Motorola they say. Motorola can't stop an attacker, I say. Unless you hit him between the eyes with it. But I'm a lousy shot.
He feels my eyes upon him. He does not trust me. I'm one of them. I know it. He knows it. I cannot be on his side. I don't want to be. I just want him out of my truck.
Familiar ground beneath me, the rescue bounces on cue. I anticipate the turn, there it is, we're a minute out. Sounds from him now. Inhuman sounds. Grunts, squeaks, murmurs. Words I don't understand come out of his mouth, his eyes stare into nothing.
On second thought, maybe what is nothing to me is significant to him. He's talks to whatever is or isn't there now. Words that have no meaning.
Thirty seconds to go. Now he sees me. Great. Where's that dip in the road, I need something familiar. Ah, there it is, almost home. He's fiddling with his seat belt. Might even figure it out. I still have a lot of time to kill. Or be killed.
This sucks. He's got it, we're backing up. He's getting up, I'm shrinking into the Captains seat. The radio is slick with sweat. I only have one chance if he charges. The rear doors open. Security is there. Thankfully we alerted the ER to have them stand by as a precaution.
He grins at me, turns around and follows security in.
And I can breathe again.