When do I come to? An hour later. Two hours. I really don’t know. My mouth turns into a desert. I blink a number of times. I feel my head throb all over, pulsing, turning over, spinning, but I don’t have a headache. To sit up feels impossible, so I keep still…wherever I am.
“Parker. Parker, can you hear me?”
“Who?” I grunt, trying to speak. My lips are dry, and my cheeks feel numb.
“Parker, it’s me…the cowboy…Jobe Riding.”
“Jo…” I semi-whisper, sounding broken, not at all myself.
He says something I can’t decipher, obviously speaking in a foreign language. Maybe Hebrew. Maybe Arabic. Maybe Indian. I’m really not sure. So unsure.
“Where?” I sound like a frog, unable to speak. Dizziness sweeps over me. I honestly don’t know where I am, but I do recognize the summer cowboy’s voice.
Fin
