At least he had time for himself, and that with a much appreciated light!
So, what to do if you have no idea who you are?
He searched his pockets with difficulty and found a wallet.
He stilled; there was a bit of hesitation to get to know someone you don't know, especially when it concerns oneself. He took a deep breath and opened it. Besides a few coins, bills, and an ID card, there wasn't much, but the latter was precisely what he needed. He moved closer to the candle and studied the unfamiliar face.
'Good-looking' he thought. Blue-brown eyes, which he couldn't see in the picture, but that was what the description said.
'184 cm tall', yeah, he noticed that the only man standing was a bit shorter than him, although he looked tall, so he himself had to be on the taller side.
'80 Kilo.'
He looked like he was slim but had muscles- or he wouldn't have been able to walk until here, with something rammed through his head.
The date of birth didn't bring him any new discoveries because he had no idea which year it was.
Then he came to the spot where his name was supposed to be; there was a scratch on the plastic of the card, so he had to strain his eyes to see it.
He whispered,
'Jack Corbyn'. He felt a chill as he thought of the Jack who helped him not long ago, after he woke up.
Sure, there could be many Jacks running around, and the Jack that had helped him didn't look a bit like the man in the ID. But it's kind of strange that the first person he came to know after waking up was sharing the same name. It's strange that the hysterical woman did not react as the shadow-Jack shouted for a doctor, but that could be a coincidence.
'Or'..... he raised his hands up in the direction of his head. As his hand drew closer, his heartbeat sped up, and he felt fuzzy, but he clenched his teeth. He, Jack, had to know the extent of his injury, so he put the ID card away. Touching his face at first to see if there was a problem, he breathed out in relief as he found no injury, then he inched in snail-pace upwards to the metal thing.
His heart drummed in his head, and he had to sit on the floor because of the dizziness. He felt like this wasn't his body, like he had touched someone else's head.
Finally, he reached for the metal, and he felt like vomiting again. His surroundings began to spin. After he groped around, he found that there was a pole in his head. No, it went through his head. It entered the right side of his forehead and came out on the left side above his neck. On each end, there were about 5 centimeters that protruded out of his head.
It goes all the way through his brain. This conclusion made him unable to hold back, and he vomited until he couldn't move.
As he lay in his vomit, the most crucial question crossed his mind,
'How am I still alive?'
He had heard (no idea from where) about people who had freak-accidents with something entering their brain; some survived somehow, so it should be possible.
'But that doesn't mean that this is all fun and games; Gotta get this shit out of my head'.
However, this wasn't a problem where pulling out would be a solution, as it could kill him a thousand times before he pulled it out entirely.
"You alright?" asked the man from before as he knocked lightly on the door.
"Not.....really....everywhere....vomit" Jack managed to get out.
"Yes....we heard....." He paused.
"We are moving, to an apartment upstairs; are you coming too? Oh, and not because of your vomit, but you saw the toilet wasn't in a good condition, even before you came." The man peeked his head through the door and grimaced at what he saw.
"....."
"Understood...which.... apartment?" Jack croaked.
"One on the first floor upstairs." the man answered
"Coming....later...."
The man showed his understanding and went on his way.
Jack could hear the stairs creak as the group changed places and went up. He didn't know if this was a good idea; what if the building sank more into the ground. On further thought, if that happened, the ground floor could be really a poorer choice.
Feeling the sweet unconsciousness wrapping around him, he blacked out again.
Waking up in darkness, he needed some time until he remembered where he was, so while unpleasant, the smell of his meanwhile dried-up vomit helped with that at least.