We Are So Screwed

“For the last time, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I said. I slammed my head back into the pillow of my hospital bed. I was tired and sore too much of both to freak out like I wanted too.

I tried to be respectful to the idiots that had been asking me the same questions for the past hour and I was for about the first fifteen minutes. Then the questions began to cycle and my pain meds wore off, and respect went out the window.

I just wanted to be doped up and go back to sleep. I had three cracked ribs, was mildly concussed, and had a cut that stretched from my forehead the entire way down to my collar bone. It barely missed the piercing there.

“Where’s Slater?” I asked again. Just like with my previous attempts to get an answer, I got a glare in response. “Can I at least know where I am?”

“That’s not something you need to be concerned about,” the idiot said.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and put the poison in my IV? Will that help you out? Am I going to magically disappear? Are you gonna torture me to find out information that I DON’T FUCKING KNOW?!”

“Miss, I’ve already explained. It’s a matter of national security. We need to know what you were talking about, when you first arrived at the hospital.”

“I don’t remember. All I remember is the screech and the fucking crash. Up until you came in here, I didn’t even know that I was awake, when they wheeled me in here.”

He eyed me skeptically. “And you’re sure that’s all you remember?”

“I was coming home from the movies and was hit. I don’t remember anything else.” If I could manage to roll over I would’ve just so I coul smother myself with my pillow to get the hell away from this idiot.

“What movie did you go to see?”

“What the fuck does it matter?” I snapped.

“What movie did you go to see?” he repeated

“Deep Throat.”

“I need you to be serious.”

“I am serious. Linda Lovelace was a babe.”

“WIf you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m going to have to charge you for-“

“For the love of fuck, I already told you what I saw. Why the hell must I answer again, and can I get some damn pain killers. I’m not gonna be able to answer jack shit, if I pass out because of the pain.”

“What did you and your friend go and see.”

“Transformers Dark of the Moon.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about Transformers, you shit fuck! You know the comics and the cartoon and all of the fucking toys by Hasbro. They made three of the god damned things, and they were all box office hits!”

“I’m gonna have to have a talk with my superiors,” he said. He got up and left the room.

“I’m so over this shit.” I said, rubbing my temples.

“Blake Renee DeVille…” another guy said looking at a file and walking into the room.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked.

He turned around and I could see his face. “I’m Tom-“

“Banachek,” I finished.

“How do you know my name?” He asked.

“You look familiar. Are you related to a Joe Banachek?”

I was trying really hard to play it off. I was actually just commenting on how much he looked like Banachek from the first film.

“Miss, you don’t seem to understand that you are in way over your head here. There are things that you will never be able to comprehend. If you don’t tell us what we need to know, things could turn very bad for you.”

“What did I say, when I came in?”

“You said ’This NBE-1 mess is bull shit. He has a name. It’s Megatron.’ Do you want to tell me what that means?”

“It’s my reaction to something from part of a movie.”

“And what is this movie about?”

“It’s about two factions of an alien race. One w-“

“Banachek!”

I looked over at the door. In walked a guy who looked exactly like Simmons.

“Simmons?” Banachek asked.

“We have to let her go,” he said bitterly.

“What?”

“I don’t know her Blondie Blonde friend in there just got into an argument with me, like a damn lawyer. I felt like I was on trial in there. We have to let her go.”

“But how-“

“I don’t know.”

“Does this mean that I can leave?” I asked.

“It means we’re taking you back.” Simmons said.

“Taking me back? Where the fuck did you take me from?”

“It’s-“

“A matter of national security, I know. I FUCKING KNOW!” Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Oh great, we have a blonde, who is smarter than she looks, but her red head friend you stereotypical hot head,” he grumbled.

“Fuck you!” I snapped.

“Someone get a nurse in here!” he called out the door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh shut it, Heat Miser.”

“My name is Blake. I suggest you use it.”

“Or what, you’re gonna have the blonde sue me?”

“No, I’ll kick your teeth down your fucking throat,” I said calmly. A nurse walked in.

“Knock her out,” he instructed her.

She slipped something in my IV. A few moments later, darkness.