Page 130 of Samson

“God, why didn’t you take me? Why let me live a little longer? Do I need more suffering?”

Was there something he had left to do? He remembered the bullet he’d taken in his side. Probably not fatal if he had gotten help right away, but it wouldn’t be long before he bled out.

“Is this my punishment?” He knew it wasn’t. That wasn’t the God he’d come to know.

With the little breath he could muster, he hummed an old hymn, his mind drifting into itself until he lost consciousness.

A shrieking rip woke him again. It grated his ears enough that he tried to move his hand to cover them. Then the silence returned.

“Hello?” a muffled voice reached him.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

The horrible sound returned, and the coffin of twisted metal and concrete around him groaned, increasing the weight on his chest. He would have cried out in pain if he could have. Then the weight lifted, and a pinprick of light appeared above him.He stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes, and it disappeared. He looked again. It was real.

He focused on it as the sound of machinery hummed around him, growing louder until it stopped again.

“Hello?” the voice came again. “Can you hear me?”

“I’m here,” he tried again and didn’t think his voice carried past his lips, but excited shouts followed with only some words reaching his ears.

“Quick…over…time.”

The hum started again and the screeching, sending an icepick through his skull.

More light appeared above him, blinding him.

“I can see him!” someone shouted. More yelling followed, and the dog barked.

Time dragged as pieces above him were removed until he could make out the sky, then a face.

“Can you speak?” the man said.

“Yes,” Samson croaked.

“What’s your name?”

“Samson. Vartan.”

The man looked behind him and yelled the name to whoever was there, then looked back at him. “Are you having trouble breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Can you feel your arms and legs?”

“I don’t know. I can move my fingers and toes.”

“Okay. Hang in there. We’re going to get you out of there, but we have to move slow. We don’t want this place collapsing in on you.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He was surprised by his ability to make a joke.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed. He’d lost consciousness multiple times, but when they’d removed enoughof the debris, he was awake when someone climbed down to him to assess him.

“How bad is it?” he asked the paramedic.

“We won’t know for sure until we get you out of here.”

“I have a gunshot wound on my left side.”

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