Bill blinked, and tried to turn his head, spooked when he was unable to do so. Moving his eyes Bill could see a wheelchair to the right; gleaming, glowing even, without a smudge, polished and prominent sitting on a fresh packed mound. A perfectly prepared pitching platform always pumped his adrenaline. It didn’t have a cleat mark anywhere, just the chair. In the grass was his baseball mitt, laying upside down, half wet and moldy. It had been there a long time, along with an empty black ball bag in the same condition. I’ll have to get a new mitt. He tried to bend to pick up the glove but couldn’t. He was afraid.
His legs wouldn’t move.
His hands wouldn’t move.
He was frozen in a circle of light next to the mound and the chair.
But there was something at the edge of the light, along the front part of the mound.
Then he became terrified as the objects came into focus. It was a tight two-foot-high fence of syringes, stuck needle down in the dirt, at least a hundred of them. The plunger was in the fully open position above whatever clear liquid was inside.
What the hell?
I don’t take drugs.
Looking at the syringes he realized it was a way back.
He sensed people watching, behind the spotlight in which he was frozen.
The light clicked off. He could hear; but it was like he was in an emersion tank with his breath rasping like sandpaper drawn over a rough board, toward him then away.
Another snap, another light, this time near the visitors’ dugout, revealing Megan and Eric and the legs of other people behind them, small dark silhouettes not distinguishable in the shadow thrown by the dugouts roof. Megan and Eric were smiling, seemingly happy; he could feel them waiting for him. Concentrating and trying to penetrate the shadows, Bill wanted to know who was standing hidden, unease creeping like concrete onto his chest.
Megan smiled and turned away, putting her arm around the taller of the two shadows while Eric extended his hand to grasp another small hand reaching out toward him, then everyone was swallowed in darkness.
“COME BACK!”
“DON’T LEAVE!”
“Bill, wake up,” said Tamara. “Are you alright? You fell asleep, then you started yelling.”
Bill was disoriented but recovered quickly. “Thanks for the massage. Jake’s waiting for me, and I need to go.”