Parts 5 and 6

I decided not to alter part 5...as terrible as it is. I make up for it with part 6, though.

I wake up. I don't know where I am or how long I've been out. Not even sure if I'm alive or if this is some messed up version of the afterlife. I'm in a small, poorly lit room. Just wide enough to let me lay down, and long enough to keep someone in captivity go insane. Flourecent-lit concrete walls that have a sticky-looking substance covering the lower parts. I say sticky-looking because I don't know if it's actually sticky or not. Haven't had the chance to touch it yet. It's also rather cold.

I check my pulse to see if I'm still alive. It seems normal, but then again I don't know if we would have a pulse in the afterlife or not. I check the area on my chest where I was shot. No bullet hole. No scars. No patches. What was it that hit me?

I look for a way out. This room has no windows and no doors. At least none that I can see. I notice that it is connected to a hallway. I sit up and notice the trenchcoat hanging on the wall. I'm guessing the trenchcoat worn by whoever shot me. Now I know that this isn't the afterlife.

"He's up.", I hear a voice say. I look over to see a person in a cloak, their face obscured by the hood. "Thought you'd never get up". "Did you shoot me?", I ask this person. "No, but I saw it happen". The hood is removed to reveal a feminin face. A young face. Younger than I. Her big green eyes sparkle in the...well, The lighting in here isn't that great, but you get the point. "I manage to pull the dart out and administer an antidote.", she said through full lips.

"You're a doctor?" I ask. "I might be. What's it to ya?" she responds. "I'd rather have a professional deal with me than someone who read something on the internet."

"She didn't learn it on the internet.", a faceless voice tells me. "Contrary to popular belief, some things are better of taught by a living thing instead of the cold, faceless internet." I look around the room, trying to find the source of this voice. The girl laughs as if she planned this earlier. The laugh seems jarring, yet charming.

Excuse my curiosity, but where is the voice coming from?" I ask the anonymous face slightly to the left of mine. "From me." the voice claims. "Who are you?" I ask the deep voice. "I am me." It sarcastically replys. "Allow me to ask another question: Where are you?", "Why, I'm right in front of you." It says. "I don't see anythng.", I say. "Look again.", the voice instructs.

Then the strangest thing appeared.

6

A grin. Just a grin. Floating in mid air. I can't explain it. The girl won't explain it. She just laughs. The more confused I look, the more she laughs. Throwing her head back every time in childish laughter, her brown hair falling back with it. What do I do in this situation? I do what any red blooded citizen of reality would do. I faint.

I wake up in another strange place...the desert. Just in time, too. The buzzards were beginning to gather around me. I'm wearing the same clothes I was the day I was shot, Which makes me wonder if I what happened in that room actually happened, or if it was some strange dream I had while I was unconcious. I check all my vital signs to see if I'm alive. Something I wasn't planning on doing, but when you wake up in strange places, you never know which one might be the afterlife. I notice the bandage around my chest, with dried, soaked through blood around the right side. Was I hit with a bullet, or a dart, as I was told earlier? Also, who fixed me up? And most importantly WHO SHOT ME?

I'd ask someone where I am, but it's the middle of the desert at what feels like midday. I look around to get my bearings, and perhaps figure out where I am. Judging by the vultures and cacti, I'd say I'm still in America. Likely in the southwest. Bravo. I've just deduced something any halfwit from Mississippi could figure out. Now I just have to figure out how far from home I am.

I scan the horizon for any signs of civilization. Highways, water towers, powerlines, anything that indicates the presence of people. I see something that looks like powerlines to the northwest, and walk in that general direction. I want to find any form of civilization for two reasons:

One, I don't want to die in the desert. I haven't been aware of my body for a while. In other words, I don't know how well hydrated or well fed I am. I seem rather thirsty, but no hunger pains have kicked in yet, but I'm not trusting that. I need food and drink.Two, I don't want to die without knowing for certain where I am. I'm guessing anyone around here would know where they are. If not...well I guess I'm shit out of luck.

Hours later it dawns on me. It's hot, I'm dehydrated, and the desert is famous for mirages. The power lines I see may not actually be there. This sudden realisation brings me to my knees. A lizard darts past my side to catch a bug. It devours it's prey, then stares at me. "What are you doing out here, man?", It asks me. "You're going to die". In the weirdest move of my life, I reply. "What do you know? You're a lizard". "I'm the lizard king, Mr.Dead Man I've seen things bigger than you die out here." This Jim Morrison lizard answers. "Like what?"
"Gila monsters, man."
"Gila monsters? They aren't bigger than me."
"I'm a talking lizard from your messed up hallucination. How should I know what's bigger than you?".
He had a good point.
"Those power lines. Are they real?" I ask Jim the Lizard, who also might not exist. I seem to be making many strange decisions today.
"They are."
"Are there any roads near it?"
"Yeah, man."
"Want to come with me?"
"Sure"
Jim crawls onto my shoulder and so begins the strangest 4 hours of my life.

I walk towards the power lines, talking with Jim about desert life, and insects, and death. I wonder if I'm going crazy. First the shooting, then the girl in the room, then the floating grin. Now a talking lizard who sounds like Jim Morrison. Yeah. I'm going crazy. Here's hoping I don't lose it on whoever I come across in the nearest town.

I get to the highway and start walking north. The sun is setting and the temperature is dropping drastically. Jim is perched on my left shoulder, getting the last amount of warmth he can get from the setting sun. I hear a rhythm from coming from behind. Rhythm from a car stereo. The rumbling gets louder, as well as the music. I hear the bass, followed by guitar, followed by vocals. "Nicotine, valium, vicoden, marijuana, ecstasy, and alcohol". It's Queens Of The Stone Age.I hear another voice scream "Pull over! Let's give the boy a lift."

The tires of the red 1971 Impala convertable screech as what was once moving like a slug from a .45 comes to an abrupt halt infront of me. I look over to Jim who has left my shoulder. Wether he was there to begin with is mystery. I run towards the car, to get in before my saviours change their mind.

The driver is a large Mexican man with an open tropical shirt and sunglasses. His passenger is also wearing a tropical shirt and sunglasses. He's a smaller, older, white man with a bucket hat and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Get in, boy, before the bats get you!" He yells at me. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mr.Duke?", the Mexican asks. "Of course I do, Oscar." Mr.Duke replys. "Now shut up, you're scaring the boy away."

I jump in. Oscar floors it. Where we stop, nobody knows.