Survival

•One•

^Arlo^

Arlo felt hands carrying him, but he couldn't see anything. He could hear quiet voices, but he couldn't understand the words; just one: "...careful! ..." What happened to him? And how came he in this situation? He couldn't remember. Arlo tried to remember how he came to be like this, but couldn't. He felt really groggy and his head hurt.

Whoever was carrying him suddenly let go, and he dropped to the ground.

A second later, he felt a sharp object poking into his skin, before his head began to clear up.

He then heard a door close and everything fell silent. Involuntarily, he reached down to where he had felt the prick.

The door opened again, and a women in a white coat walked in. Her pale blonde hair pulled into a tight bun that accentuated her sharp cheekbones. In her hand was a silver clipboard with several papers attached. She knelt down beside him and felt his wrist for a pulse.

Arlo tried to pull away, but felt too weak to put up a fight for very long. "What are you...doing?"

"Don't talk. You aren't awake enough." The women replied. Satisfied with his heart rate, she stood back up and wrote down something on her clipboard.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"I said don't talk." She repeated, not looking up from her clipboard.

Arlo was silent for a couple seconds then asked, "Why am I not supposed to not talk?"

She slammed the pen down on the paper, annoyed, "Does it matter? I said to keep silent so do it. You might throw up by using your vocal chords too soon. They aren't active and awake enough yet from the drug we gave you."

"What drug? I swear if you answer that question, I won't talk until you say I can."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not supposed to even be talking to you."

Arlo sighed. "Whatever."

The woman walked over to the wall and pulled four leather straps off it. She turned back to Arlo, "Please pull off your shirt and lay down on the table." She pointed to a metal table near the wall.

"Why?" He asked warily.

"If you don't do it willingly, I can just get someone to make you." She pointed out.

Arlo pulled his shirt off slowly, but nicked his nose, which started bleeding again.

"Good grief. You can't do the simplest thing without hurting yourself." She put the hand holding the leather strips on her hip, "Just give me the shirt and lay down." Grumbling the whole time, Arlo complied.

When he was laying on the cold metal table, she quickly strapped the leather around his hands and feet before attaching them to the table.

Arlo pulled at the straps. "What are you doing?" He growled fiercely.

"What did I say about talking?" She scolded him.

"Tell me!" He practically screamed, lurching toward the woman.

She grabbed his neck and slammed his head down on the table, "Don't tell me what to do." She spoke, her voice eerily quiet.

"Why won't you tell me?" He asked, lowering his voice.

She let go of his neck and walked over to another table covered in various medical tools. She wheeled the table over and began setting up several things. Then, she grabbed a small needle and turned to him. Arlo struggled to get away from the needle, but the leather straps held him down.

"Relax. This is just an IV to keep you hydrated." She explained before slipping the needle beneath his skin smoothly.

"Fine. " Arlo huffed.

She attached the needle to a solution bag hanging above the table and grabbed some other things. Gently, she rubbed an alcohol wipe up and down his bare stomach, cleaning it. Then, she brought over an oxygen mask.

Arlo sighed and asked another question, "What's that?"

She slipped it over his face, covering his nose and mouth, "It will help dull the pain." She said simply as she pulled on rubber gloves. With a snap, they were on and she reached for a small yet sharp scalpel.

"What are you gonna do to me?" Arlo asked sharply.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart." She said sarcastically. She pushed on his stomach in various places with her thumb, trying to find the right place to make the incision.

"Uggghhhhh!" Arlo cried out frustratedly. "Why won't you tell me what you're gonna do to me? You say don't worry about it, but I want to know never the less! Why?"

"Do I need to sedate you?" She replied calmly.

"No. But I promise that if you tell me what you're gonna do to me before you do it, then I will be quiet!"

The woman ignored him and walked over to the door. She leaned her head out for a moment before walking back inside, followed by a man. He went to a nearby wall and stood there silently.

"If you don't stop opening that pretty mouth of yours, I'm going to sedate you." The woman said as she walked back over to him.

Arlo calmed down a little. "Why won't you tell me what you're going to do to me?" he said trying to contain his frustration.

She sighed deeply and grabbed another syringe. She brought it near his arm, "Apparently you can't close your mouth, mmhm? Well I'll fix that."

Arlo just looked at the syringe then at the lady, but inside a storm was raging.

She gave him one more chance, "Will you shut up? I don't want to have to drug you again."

Arlo sighed in frustration. "Fine."

She put the syringe away and picked the scalpel back up. With one more prod on his stomach, she pushed the blade into his skin, making a fluid incision.

Arlo gasped as the pain swept over him. He then determined that he would stay silent for the rest of whatever was happening. The woman continued cutting until a long incision was made. Then, she put away the scalpel and dabbed away the blood with a towel before sticking her gloved hand inside his stomach. Arlo gritted his teeth, but said nothing. He started to feel himself fading into an abyss, but fought as hard as he could not to pass out.

The woman felt around in his stomach, as if looking for something. Finally, she pulled her hand out and placed a small, bloody object on the table. She turned back to him and began stitching the incision closed. "Hanging in there?"

Arlo said nothing, but glared at her.

She faked a sympathetic smile, "Oh relax, big baby. You'll be fine." She finished patching him up and pulled off the oxygen mask on his face. She unhooked the IV from his arm and put all the tools back on the table. Finally, she wheeled the table back to where it was, grabbed the object from Arlo's stomach, and left the room with the man, leaving Arlo still strapped to the table.

Arlo sighed, then gritted his teeth as the pain from the movement started up. He raised his head and glanced at his stomach, noticing the stitching. He laid his head back down and waited for something to happen, knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment.