It’s a dark blur but I know I’m in some sort of vehicle that is moving and there’s a mask over my face, pumping oxygen into me. My head is turned to the side and strapped down. I can feel the drool still oozing from my mouth. It’s run into my hair and I feel sticky.
“That was too close.” The woman writes busily onto a clipboard. “I didn’t know she was this small.”
We turn a corner sharply and she falls over top me, her long ponytail tickling my nose. I can’t move to brush it away- my body feels totally limp.
“Are you trying to kill all of us?” she yells out to the driver. We hit some sort of a bump and she curses under her breath. I feel the blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm.
We come to a sudden halt and I hear the doors open. Light streams in, blinding me. I close my eyes and I feel the board I’m strapped on being lifted up and carried. A sudden cool whoosh of air comes over me, and I know we’re inside. Things are still blurry, but there seem to be several people in lab coats gathering about me.
“Tiny thing, isn’t she?” the voices float in, as if from a dream. Hands are on me now, and some sort of tube goes into my mouth, making a loud noise.
“Suction set up.”
“BP eighty-six over fifty and holding. Respirations at fourteen.”
“Give her a few.” A tall man with glasses leans over me. “Then we’ll start.”
I want desperately to move, to say something, but my body refuses to respond. I hear them talking in low tones, and I know it is about me. What do they want with me?
“BP now ninety-four over fifty-six.” A voice calls out. It sounds like the man named Lambert, but with my head turned sideways like this, I can’t really see anything. And the roaring sound from the suction tube in my mouth makes it hard to hear.
“Now then.” The tall man with the glasses leans over me. “Let’s do what we need and make sure she’s stabilized.” He takes the tube from my mouth, holds it for a moment, and puts it back as the drool starts up again. “And don’t forget the type and cross.”
“Got it doc.” Lambert’s voice is behind me. The blood pressure cuff is removed, and a tourniquet goes around my arm. Another needle goes into me and stays there.
The tall man flashes a penlight across my eyes. “Neuro check is shit, since you almost killed her.”
“I told you, I didn’t know she was this small!” the woman from the park sounds angry. I feel the tourniquet snapped free from my arm, and my blood being drawn. A tape measure is placed at the top of my head and rolled downward.
“We’ll need pictures.” The woman is now standing in front of me. “Think we can sit her up?”
I feel the needle taken from my arm, and a band-aid applied. The suction is taken from my mouth. Straps are being undone, but I’m unable to move, even with my new freedom.
“Lambert, help me hold her, she’s dead weight.” The woman groans. “I just want her sitting up for the shots.”
I feel myself being pulled upwards; the lights in the ceiling begin to spin, and I pass out.

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