Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Medical Attention and Memories

Merco felt lost in his dismal thoughts when he noticed the leader of these aliens, dressed in a golden yellow, robe, began gesturing to him again. She pointed to a group of about seven aliens behind her and then pointed to him. He tipped his head a bit, not sure what she was indicating. She then reached under her arm, touched her side, and pointed to him. He looked and saw that she was meaning the wounds in his left side which had bloodied his shirt.

He touched the wounds lightly, "Oh. I'm alright. It just stings."

But she gestured again, seeming to order him to take off his shirt as she pantomimed the action. Merco was a bit unsure about it but lifted his right arm and began to pull off his shirt. The action immediately zapped him with pain and he halted the movement into something much slower.

Maybe hurts more than a sting...

He gingerly pulled his shirt off and placed it behind him. His eyes took in the wounds on his side. It looked like he'd been peppered with a miniature shot gun...quite a few miniature shot guns. He guessed it was probably shrapnel from the bombs they hit him with. His eyes couldn't see his back, but it felt like the wounds extended from his hip to his neck.

As he observed his wounds he found that he wasn't the only one doing so, when two little aliens appeared, floating close to his side. Their large eyes scanned his flesh a moment and one was brazen enough to touch him. After examining the injuries, they spoke loudly, causing a flurry of activity to begin. Tools were being procured, buckets of water and stacks of cloth were brought, and pots of some sort of green substance was carried forward. Merco watched, fascinated with their efficiency.

"Merco!" Pixie's voice called out to him which made him look at her.

She pointed to him and then physically laid down on her side. Again, she pointed to him, eyes expectant. Apparently she wanted him to lay down. He glanced around a second, ensuring no one was in his way then gradually leaned over on his right side, so his injured left was up. The movement seemed to still the bustling aliens as they watched him fully recline. Pixie appeared near his face and patted his nose in a reassuring manner. He granted her a small smile.

In a few minutes Merco could feel little feet touching his skin, traipsing across his sprawled body. It tickled, but Merco held perfectly still, not wishing to laugh and jar the little aliens who had set upon him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a couple aliens standing on his hip. They both held tools that resembled pliers. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were for. Merco had a distinct feeling this wasn't going to tickle. He took a deep breath to steady himself but in turn jostled the aliens standing on him as they staggered to maintain balance when he exhaled sharply.

"Sorry." Merco apologized and focused on remaining still.

It was then that he felt water being poured over his injuries and tiny towels set to cleaning the various wounds. Merco twitched a bit at the tickling sensation but tried his best to hold still. A few more moments passed before he started feeling the aliens get to work removing the shrapnel from his wounds. The strange sensation of tiny tools probing the injuries and removing the pieces of offending metal were a mix of pain and relief at the same time; like digging out a bunch of splinters. The clink of little metal bits being deposited in a pan was heard. There were aliens on his shoulder, along his ribs, and at his hip. It didn't hurt quite so much on his back or shoulder but the little aliens working on his hip and ribs were certainly making him bite his lip since it was a more tender area.

A particularly deep extraction from there made him flinch and grunt loudly, "Jeez! Are you dissecting me?"

Of course, his exclamation stopped the aliens abruptly. They probably were debating whether it was safe to be doing this to him.