Page 36 - NyghtVision Magazine Volume 3 #2

AN ESSAY BY FALCON

oom! The sound of flesh slamming against glass echoed through the

foyer and up the stairwell. Stunned, I stepped back instinctively. For a

Bmoment I couldn’t think. Slowly, I began gathering my thoughts… run-

ning diagnostics… trying to determine whether I was injured—and if so—just how

serious those injuries were. This is what I was trained to do. This is what I did in

Honduras, in the Valley of Fire…

Paris: Day 4

he extent of the injuries was confined freshly-spilled blood lingering on my tongue. I
T to my face. I sensed the streaming pulled the blood-soaked tissue away from my
heat, the kind of heat that past experience told nose. I couldn’t breathe through my mouth.
me was blood. My hands ran across the con- There was too much blood. I had to clear my
tours of my face. They came away wet. Deep nasal passages. I blew my nose, saturating yet
red blood flowed down my fingers to encircle another tissue with thick red blood. I must re-
my wrists. main calm…
Calmly and methodically, I assessed the We had returned from DxO not more than a
damage to my forehead and nose. The blood few minutes earlier. JD was not feeling well—
flow stemmed from both the bridge of my nose apparently, his allergy medication was wear-
and the inside of my nostrils. I reached into ing off. His sinuses were draining down his
my pocket, took hold of a tissue, and applied throat, and the phlegm was causing him to gag
pressure to my wounds. Survival training in and vomit. There was nothing I could do. We
the field had taught me this lesson as well. were already late for dinner with Olivier Poul
There was more blood. Running from my of DxO.
lips—filling my mouth, dripping down my “Are you okay?” I asked JD.
chin. I coughed and spat, the warm saltiness of He nodded, gagged, and vomited.

36 | the paris chronicles, part 3