Spoken of Only in Whispers | Volume 7 | Podcast E347 - Supernatural StoryTime

Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Do you know what time it is? It's supernatural story time.
And if you're easily scared, and even if you're not,
there's only one they left to do. Just turn off
the lights, because these are stories that you listen to
only in the dark, spoken of only in Whispers, Volume seven,

(00:23):
Story number one, The man in seat forty three A
died halfway across the Atlantic. I would sitting the other
front of the plane, just behind first class, and couldn't
really see the commotion, but I could hear someone gasping
and wretching lot at first, then quieter and quieter a
flight at ten, theant got on the PA and asked
for any medical professionals among the passengers to help. I

(00:46):
guess there were none. After a few minutes, the man
sounds deteriorated into a sort of gurgle in silence. Then
it was over. His name was Molino, and he was old,
but not that old, and it was likely a heart attack, aneurysm,
drug reaction, or God's will, according to conflicting in hand
reports that filtered down the plane from row forty three,

(01:08):
where flight attendants simply buckled the newly deceased back into
his window seat and covered his face with a complimentary
airline blanket. The pilot got Oni in or com and
told us a plane would be turning back to New
York due to a tragic medical situation involving one of
our passengers. Folks, we're looking for a volunteer willing to
sit next to the seas while we returned to our

(01:29):
originating airport. The pilot continued, this flight is entirely full,
and the person sitting there now isn't feeling comfortable. It's
an aisle seat, and it will only be a few
hours before we're back over land. I'm not sure why
I volunteered, probably some combination of exhaustion, altruism, and morbid curiosity.

(01:51):
My vacation plans were shot anyway, I figured, so why
not take the most interesting seat down the plane. The
flight attendant thanked me profuse as did a queasy looking
teenager who took my original seat. I picked up my
handbag and shuffled down the aisle to the very last
row of the plane. My only prior experience with corpses

(02:11):
was an open casket funeral for my grandmother when I
was a kid, but the idea of death had never
particularly bothered me. It's natural. After all that said, I
admit that I second guessed my decision as soon as
I saw my new seat mate, mister Molyno rest in peace,
sat upright between the window and me, strapped around the

(02:33):
waist by a blue fleece blanket covering his torso and head.
The blanket did not cover his hands, which were resting
on his lap above his seatbelt, placed that way by
a flat attendant as a sign of respect. I assumed
Molineau's pale fingers were twisted into claws that betrayed the
agony of his death. I couldn't look at those hands
without imagining what his face looked like under the blanket.

(02:55):
I thought of asking him for a second blanket, but
the flight crew was still busy calming down other passengers
and preparing for a U turn around the Atlantic Ocean.
So I tried to forget my uneasiness and closed my
eyes and slept. I woke hours or minutes later, I
don't know, to the jostling of turbulence. The cabin lights

(03:16):
were off, and most of the passengers around me seemed
to be sleeping. I looked out the window, trying not
to look at Molino as I did, and saw only
the uniform blackness of the night. I imagine the ocean miles
below us, lightless and cold. The thought onsetled me, and
I reached across Molino to close the window shade. Then
I stopped myself. Had the shade been closed. When I

(03:39):
sat down, I realized it was something else off about
the scene. Molino's posture had somehow changed while I slept.
It took me a few seconds to pinpoint it. His
gnarled hands remained on his lap, he was still belted
at the waist, and the blanket still shrouded his upper body,
but the fabric looks somehow twisted now, as if he
had been fidgeting very slowly. Knowing it was insane, even

(04:03):
as I knew, I couldn't stop myself, I lifted a
corner of the blanket. I uncovered his shirt, which the
flight crew had unbuttoned while trying to save him. A
patch of blue gray skin sprouting white hair, peeked out
from beneath. I lifted the blanket higher. His collar was
flucked with dried blood. I remembered his terrible gasping. Finally,

(04:26):
I pulled the blanket entirely off and stifled the scream.
Mollino's head was turned away from me, exactly as if
he had turned to stare out the window. I could
see his face reflected in the plexiglass. It was undoubtedly
a dead man's face, pale, drawn, lips, parted, jaw slack.
There was no life in it except his eyes. They

(04:46):
were moving. I stared at the reflection for half a minute,
and I'm sure of it. In the center of that
death mask, two pupils flicked back and forth, as if
tracking something out there in the sky. What do you do?
A voice beside me interrupted. I whipped around and saw
the woman seated across the aisle staring at me, not

(05:06):
so much in fear as disgusted. Come him back up,
give him his peace. He's I think he's been moving,
I stammered, his eyes. I think he might not actually be.
But I couldn't finished a sentence. It was too crazy.
No that I have to, because at that moment, my
stomach dropped ten feet, along with everything else in the plane.

(05:27):
Coffee cups and purses slammed against the ceiling. A many
of the first class section nearly tumbled out of his seat.
I heard call lights going off, all over the planet's
passengers rejolded away in panic and confusion. Passengers, please take
your seats, buckle in, and secure any loose items. The
pilot said over the pa sounding shaken himself. The weather

(05:49):
along our flight path is clear and no planes in
the area reporting turbulence, so I'm not sure what this is,
but we should be through it momentarily. Even as he spoke,
the mild background shaking had felt since waking up became
noticeably more violent. The woman across the owl began fumbling
for her seat belt, no longer paying any attention to

(06:10):
me or Molineau. I forced myself to look at him again.
The jolt must have caused them to pitch forward at
the waist, his head colliding with a seat in front
of him, but Molineau's face was still turned toward the window.
His neck twisted at such a sharp angle that I
worried it had snapped. I looked at his hands again
and the pallor of his skin. Three flat attendants and

(06:32):
a dozen passengers had witnessed this man's death, and I
could not rashly imagine they were mistaken. And yet, in
the reflection of the window's eyes left to right left
to right. I had heard that strange reflex is sometimes
kicking after death, limbs flailing, headless, chickens running, nerves clearing
out the last backlog of instructions from the brain. But

(06:52):
the eyes I had never heard of that. I made
myself look past that unsettling reflection at the sky itself.
It was still dark, moonless, and cloudless, but the atmosphere
seemed to have taken on a strange hue, a very
dark green, like pea soup fog. I thought I could
see vague shapes swirling around the murk, though it might

(07:14):
have been an optical illusion. I recoiled. I desperately wanted
to be anywhere else right then, but the rest of
the cabin was approaching a state of pandemonium. Flight attendants
were hurrying up and down the aisles, attending to spills
and bruises, even as they tripped and staggered. The entire
plane was shuddering like a barrel going down the rapids.

(07:35):
A series of jolts sent Molino's upper body swinging back
and forth like an upside down pendulum. He was thrown
backward into his seat and sideways into me. A horrible
feeling I will never forget, and in the opposite way,
his face slamming directly into the window where it came
to rest. That was enough for me. I unbuckled, leapt

(07:57):
out of my seat, and locked myself in the bathroom
directly behind me. I would cower on a toilet for
the rest of this hellish flight rather than spend another
minute sitting with mister Molineaux. The plan worked for a
half hour or so. I braced both my arms against
the bathroom walls and listened to the chimes of flight
attendant call buttons, the wine of jet engines, and the

(08:19):
growing of the sky getting darker. I tried to calm
myself by visualizing the skyland of New York, the JFK airstrip,
a calm descent. But then imagine Molineau's window, his face
mashed up against the glass like a little boy's, his
dead eyes searching the night. The captain's disembodied voice called

(08:40):
me back to reality. He sounded it outright. Scared now
and the PA kept cutting in and out. Extremely anomalous weather.
Need everyone in their seats in the emergency position immediately.
If we depressurize, the turbulence stopped for four or five seconds,
and then suddenly it felt that goes inside of washing me.

(09:01):
I bounced against the walls of the bathroom, landed on
the floor, and could barely manage to get the door
open and crawl on all fours into the aisle. All
three flat attendants were down, sprawled on backs and bellies
between the seats. Some of the overturned luggage bins had
burst open and spewed baggage out. Many of the passengers
were weeping, a few preyed, and through it all, the

(09:24):
plane would not stop shaking. I heard a series of
small bangs above my head and felt something wet on
my cheek. Every single soda can in the galley had exploded.
I climbed into my seat and belted myself in, having
briefly forgotten about Molineau in my terrorak the whack, but

(09:45):
he was still in his seat, of course, wiping back
and forth like a flagpole and a hurricane, headbutting the
windows so hard that I could see the plexiglass balloon
outward and rebound each time whack. I became worried he'd
cracked the w though that's supposed to be impossible, so
I overcame my revulsion and grabbed his shoulders, but I

(10:06):
couldn't restrain him. Again, and again his head hit the window.
I began to fear that it was not simply the
motion of the plane that compelled them. Thwack, thwack, thwack.
No one else on the plane was watching this. Some
of the passengers had rallied and were trying to pull
the injured flight attendants out of the aisle. Others were
whispering goodbye messages into their phones. The whack whack cur

(10:33):
I heard something crack beside me and hoped desperately that
it was Molineau's skull and not the window outside. I
could see that the green fog was alive with swirling
amfrous shapes. Thwack curm. Another explosion, not popcns this time,
but pressurized oxygen escaping into sky. Molineau had managed to

(10:56):
smash out both window panes in one final blow. Now
his mangled head was hanging outside the plane, and the
rest of his body was straining to follow it, restrained
only by seat belt and the width of his shoulders.
An alarm went off in the cabin, and a jungle
of oxygen masks fell from the ceilings. I put mine
on at once. I heard other people screaming. Some passengers

(11:19):
were trying desperately to get masks on the unconscious aircrew.
But the plane was shaking more violently than ever, and
loose debris was flying up the aisles towards my row,
toward the whole a dead man had made in the
airplane cabin, Breach said. The pilot limited back up oxygen,
So I'm trying to descend to a safe altitude, but
hard to do that in this storm or whatever it is.

(11:42):
God be with us. Once I was sure that I
could breathe and was in no danger of being sucked
up myself, I took one last look at Molina. His
head might have torn clean off outside the window, for
all I could see of it past the rest of
his body. I those eyes again, which had been something

(12:03):
looking in the sky that we had not seen, could
not see even as it now threatened to shake the
plane apart. There was some connection between these events that
I might never understand. But even without understanding I could
make the last move available to me. I reached over
Molineux's lap, lifted one of those cold clad hands, and

(12:23):
unclasped his seat belt. There was an intolerable crunching noise
as I presume his shoulders or squeezed and crushed to
fit the window frame, and then in a split second,
he was gone out the window into the night, a
paleld man, falling end over and toward the black ocean.
Whatever you saw out there, I whispered, whatever you were

(12:45):
looking for, go to it and leave us bee. The
green fog lifted a few minutes later, and the plane
descended until it was safe to breathe without the masks.
Less than an hour later, I really did see the
JFK airstrip. All squadron of police and ambulances met us
on the way down. The flight attendants and several passengers

(13:06):
had to be hospitalized, but as far as I know,
no one suffered serious injuries. Federal investigators eventually concluded that
we had flown through a localized weather anomaly witness by
no other plane in the sky that night. Some sort
of debris must have been flying around the deer with
us and taken out the window at forty three A.

(13:27):
They wrote in their report. This event led to a
sudden loss of cabin pressure, in which the body of
a passenger who had died earlier in an unrelated medical emergency,
was ejected from the plane. I expected to hear a
lot more about it on the news, but I suppose
in the end it was just one of those things.
The airline had no interest in publicizing the incident, of course,

(13:48):
and the passengers had no desire to relive it. For
most people on the flight, was simply a freak tragedy
followed by a close call, and all's well that ends well.
I'm the only one that will dream for the rest
of my life about Molleau's eyes and what they saw
on the way to the ocean. Story number two. It

(14:10):
was around two a m. In the morning. I was
just on my way back from the hospital. My partner, Verne,
and I had just dropped off a man who had
fallen in the middle of the night. The man was
in his early eighties and found the bathroom. He busted
his head on the towel floor. Poor man lived alone.
He would be okay. He needed a few stitches. We
are both exhausted from lack of sleep. When you're an

(14:32):
ambulance driver, you really get very little sleep. Coffee is
our best friend. We made a pit stop at the
Quick Mart for a cup of joe. Vern had to
pay really bad and told me to take a short
cut through the Rockford Road. I was hesitant at first.
Rockford Road was a dangerous road. I was hated to
take it. There were too many twists and turns and

(14:53):
always an accident. I was super tired and didn't want
to risk it, but I did anyway. Hey, but a
man's gotta go, He's gotta go. You just can't hang
out up the window. My partner and I began to
chit chat like we always do. Vern was telling me
about his ex wife, his sixth ex wife to be exact.

(15:13):
That man surely got around. Vern was a muscular man
with a rattail and an earring. He looked like he
should have been a bouncer, not an ambulance driver. He
told me how he cheated on his wife, Jenna, with
a younger chick. Jenna had found out and filed for divorce.
The girl was fifteen years younger than his wife. Verreyn
told me he wanted to marry the young gal after

(15:35):
the divorce. I told him I thought he was nuts.
What's that? Vern suddenly shouted, pointing out the window. I
tapped the brakes, expecting to see a dear Notice what
vern was pointing at and the darkness, lit up only
by my headlights was a figure of a man. He
was waving his arms, flying us down. His hands were
full of blood. I stopped a vehicle. My headlights were

(15:59):
blaring in to him. I could see him clearer now.
We both jumped out, fully prepared to take on anything.
I expected to see a car flipped over in the ditch,
but there was no car in sight. I knew Rockford
Road only for its many tricky curbs. We had been
out on this road multiple times for WREX and fatalities.
I had seen many decapitations, body parts strewn on the road,

(16:22):
dead drunk teens flipped over in their cars, people cut
in half. I've seen it all as an ambulance driver.
The skinny man had a long, shabby beard, was wearing
a blood stained plaid shirt. I noticed a few scrapes
and bruises on his hands. Sir, are you okay? I
asked the mandan spook, I need to go to the hospital.
I think I broke my ribs. My car is all

(16:44):
the way over there in the ditch. My partner and
I accessed him and loaded him up on the stretcher
and into the ambulance. He might have internal bleeding. I
told Verne, we need to get him to the hospital
to get checked out. I jumped in the driver's seat,
ready to flip on the sirens. Vern would start the
IVY and monitor his vitals. Suddenly I heard a loud,

(17:04):
piercing scream. I turned around. It was Vern. My mouth
dropped open in horror. Was I really seeing this? The
man we had just picked up was trying to stab
Verne with a knife. Shit, I yelled, help. This guy's
a lunatic. Vern was panting. He was trying to fend
off the attacker. The skinny man was laughing an evil laugh.

(17:25):
I jumped behind the seat and tried to apprehend the man.
He raised a blade and swiped it up my hand.
God damn it, I yelled, blood oozed out. I think
he had a vein. It burned really bad. I didn't
have time to think of the pain. I had to
stop this. I had to stop him. For a skinny
little man, he was strong. Vern was trying to knock
the blade out of his hand and was unsuccessful. I

(17:48):
could see where he nicked Vern in the neck, it
was a bad cut. Three men rolling around fighting in
an ambulance is a challenge. I tried to punch the
attacker again with my fist. I clocked him in the
side of the head, not one, but twice. H he moaned,
and then he slumped down. I let out a huge
stigh of relief. Verne was holding his neck, grabbing for

(18:08):
Gauds in the first aid kit. Suddenly I felt the
ambulance shaking. What the There was no earthquakes around here,
and I realized what was going on. I looked at
the side of the window and saw hands all over
the window, white palms pressed to the glass, many sets
of hands. They were shaking the ambulance back and forth.
The ambulance began to sway and rock I looked over

(18:30):
towards her and his face turned white as a ghost.
I heard the voices chanting, tonight, we will feast, tonight,
we will sacrifice for the beast. Oh hell no, I yelled,
We had stumbled onto a colt. I suddenly realized that
they set us up. That Skinny Man had not been
injured at all. He was just a pawn in the
game to draw out the rest of the cult. Their

(18:53):
clever plan had worked. I braced myself the best I could.
The ambulance rolled down the hill. I felt my body
suspended in mid air, hitting the ceiling, roaring and eyes,
groaning and pain. It finally stopped. I watched horrifyingly as
they drugged Vern out. He was moaning and pain There
were at least six of them, all wearing tattered clothes,

(19:15):
women and men. No one tried to grab me, Thankfully,
the crazy cult seemed focused on Vern for the moment,
and this was my chance to escape. I used my
upper body strength and slid myself forward. My whole body ached. Luckily,
the ambulance door was wide open. I watched a terrifying
view in front of me. Verne screamed and he pleaded

(19:36):
with the last little bit of strength he had left.
They all had knives and cut at his flesh, sharp,
pointy looking buck knives. I couldn't look. I had to escape.
My chest was hurting, my heart was pounding, and it
was hard to breathe. My nose was dripping blood. Once
I slid out of the wrecked ambulance, I stood up carefully.

(19:57):
I was a bit dizzy and wobbling, but I managed
to run a little, dimping and groaning in pain. I
dared to look back. Vern was lying sprawled on his back.
It was no longer a man with a face, just
a bloody, pulpy slab of meat where his face used
to be. I leaned over and grabbed my knees in disgust,
roombing of the big Mac I had earlier that day.

(20:17):
The whole colt of people seemed to be in a trance,
their faces all bloody, going on Verne's raw flush. I
glanced at an older woman with long gray hair chewing
on what looked like to be Verne's ear. These people
were psycho. There was no time to stick around. I
didn't want to be next. I started to run. I
felt the cold night air going into my lungs. I

(20:41):
was almost to the highway, and I yelled frantically, waving
my arms. Maybe some one would stop. No cars were coming.
Suddenly I felt a hard thud in the back of
my head. Darkness enveloped me. I woke to the bright lights,
lying on a bed with a white sheet over me.
Where was I? Was I dead? Am I in heaven?

(21:02):
The questions raced through my mind. To my relief, A
nurse walked right in. She stood by the bed and spoke,
I'm glad you're awake, David, you're in the hospital. You're
very lucky to be alive. Then it all flooded back.
Verned a skinny man in the colt. Where's Verne? I demanded,
Is he ok? The nurse frowned, I'm so sorry you
didn't make it. Tears welled up in my eyes. You

(21:25):
are very lucky to survive such a horrible bear attack.
I cut her off right away. Bear attack, no, I yelled.
It was a cult of people that murdered him. They
ate him alive. I tried to jump out of bed frantically,
and the nurse ran to grab me before I hit
the floor. She was telling me to calm down and
called another nurse for back up. I looked down the

(21:46):
why she had fallen off my legs. Where are my legs?
I nearly passed out. I was staring down at two
bandaged nubs that had eaten my legs. I began to scream.
Next story. I was a paramedic out of a small
town in southern California called Hemit. We're a very small

(22:08):
division of the largest ambulance company in the United States,
which is previously an even smaller company that was bought
out by this larger company. Being a paramedic is a
very weird job, and when I first started was like
the wild West of pre hospital medicine. We all had
great training, we knew how to respond to pretty much
every emergency, but we were often and are still often

(22:29):
mistaken for glorified taxicab drivers. On any given night, I
would come in check out my ambulance to make sure
it was fully stocked and functional, that my partner and
I would bounce from station to station until someone would call,
because that an emergency ranging from a gunshot wound to
the head to a stubb joe no joke, I've run
called a three AM for a stubbed fintoe. People often

(22:53):
ask me, what's the worst thing you've ever seen? The
truth is they don't want to know. You don't want
to know. They don't want to know, and I don't
want to tell it, so I won't. Maybe one day
I will write about it as a sequel, but honestly,
it's short, it sucks, and neither of us will be
feeling like anything less than shit. What I will do

(23:15):
is break the eyes to the possibility of a bunch
of stories with hands down, the weirdest call I've ever
ran this is that story. Just north of Heiman is
a city called San Jacinto, and the northernmost part of
this town is a large, sprawling complex for a very
controversial religious organization. It's not a secret, but I don't

(23:36):
care to call them out by name, as they tend
to be very vengeful. And I do have a career
that I would like to keep. If you can't find
it quickly, just look up San Jacinto Golden Era. You'll
figure it out. As a young medic, I worked at
graveyard shift. One night, around three am, we received a
call for a man down located at the aforementioned compound.

(23:58):
Man down can literally mean any thing. When someone calls
nine to one one, the phone call goes directly to
the local police or sheriff's department. If the call is
determined to be of medical nature, it is forwarded to
the fire department that will then call out their fire
station over the radio, and from there the private ambulance
company will listen to that radio call and then tell
us what the call is. While we can sometimes hear

(24:21):
this chain of events over the radio. It is often
a complex game of telephone and which my uncle fell
down the stairs and had a large laceration across his leg.
Turns into a man down. So as usual, we hopped
into the ambulance and drove to the compound with lights
and sirens blaring and three am with no one on
the road, because our company would quickly fire us if

(24:43):
we were to use common sense and drive it just
as fast without waking up ten neighborhoods on the way.
Upon arriving at the compound, we were greeted with an
open gate. This gate was always closed, a couple of
guys standing by an one dude on a dirt bike.
No joke. The dude was on a dirt bike at
the gate. I rolled the window down to speak to

(25:04):
one of the guys at the gate, and he just
pointed at the guy on the air dirt bike, at
which point this guy on the dirt bike took off. Well,
I don't understand sign language. I was pretty sure I
was supposed to follow this dude. After driving around the
compound for a couple of minutes, we pulled up to
a large building that was reminiscent of an early nineteen
hundred chapel. I got out of the ambulance and I

(25:26):
asked the guy on the dirt bike what's up, and
he pointed up to a woman standing in front of
large wooden doors leading into the chapel around the back
of the ambulance, where my partner was already pulling out
the gurney that had our hot monitor, defibrillator and drug
bag on it. I grabbed onto the gurney and we
head up the stairs. Yes, we had to carry a

(25:46):
heavy ass GURNI up the stairs. This was part of
our life. We got to the top and the lady
turned to open the doors and walked in. Please keep
in mind we have now been in the compound for
about five minutes, ran into about six people. Not a
single person has spoken a word. We rolled through the
door and found ourselves in what appeared to be a

(26:07):
large conference room. The walls were completely draped in what
appeared to be large maroon velvet curtains, spanning from the
ceiling to the floor approximately thirty feet. The middle of
this room was the absolute longest table I have ever
seen in my life. This table was something you'd see
in some movie mocking rich people in a mansion, no exaggeration,

(26:28):
at least one hundred feet long. If this isn't weird already,
which it absolutely was to me, this table was surrounded
by about forty people wearing robes matching the curtains, with
hoods over their heads, covering their faces, and not moving
an inch. As I attempted to process the insanity of
what I was seeing, the woman from the door grabbed

(26:48):
my shoulder. I snapped my head towards her fast enough
to break the sound barrier, and she just pointed past
the table. At the complete opposite side of this one
hundred foot long table, there was a stage. The floor
was completely covered in carpet that was the same crimson
color of everything else in the room except the table.
At the top of the stage, I saw what appeared

(27:10):
to be a pile of white linen. My partner and
I rolled the gurney along one side of the table,
although while not a single person at the table said
a word or moved. When we got to the stage,
I realized what I saw was not a pile of linen,
but rather a woman in a sheer white nightgown. So
I approached closer. I noticed a nightgown was completely covered

(27:30):
in small red dots. I got on my knees and
proceeded to assess this one by checking for a pulse,
checking for respiration both present, and then applying painful stimulation
a sternal rub in attempt to listit a response. I
got a very weak moan in response, and then was
once again tapped on my shoulder. Before I could snap

(27:51):
my head around again, my partner stopped, WHOA, keep your
hands off of him. All I could think of was
thanks for showing up, buddy. All the while was thankful
he was there, and I was thinking, where is the fire?
The fire departner absolutely should not have been here by now.
They should have been on the scene at least full

(28:12):
minute before we were. I looked at my partner and said,
let's load and go. Load and goo is a term
often used for the critically ill and or injured. A
load and go patient is usually on the brink of death,
and the best solution is to get them to the
hospital as quick as possible, and that waste time trying
to help them. Unseen, we have time to start Ivy's,

(28:35):
administer medication and to a slew of other things en route.
In the back of the ambulance this time, though, I
just wanted to get the hell out of this place.
We loaded the patient on the gurney and busted ass
to get to the ambulance, still not in the f
and word from anyone we'd seen. We loaded this lady
up and my partner went to close the doors, but

(28:55):
this woman that had been at the door to the
chapel had followed us throughout, was trying to get into
the back of the ambulance. I asked this woman to
wait for a moment while I motioned for my partner
to come to the side door of the ambulance. He
walked up and I quietly told him to tell her
she had to sit up in the passenger seat. The
look on his face was that I would expect from

(29:16):
a man I had just told he had to punch
his own mother. So I said, tell her she has
to sit up there, jump up, lock the door, and roll.
He walked around the back, asked her to sit up front,
shut the back door, and was blasting out his compound
before I could completely process him, putting it into action.
En route, I started ivy, tested her blood sugar, but

(29:38):
more importantly, did a full physical exam. I noted no
less than two hundred small pricks on her body. They
all blood just enough to dot her nightgown and then coagulate.
My suspicion was an overdose of some form, so I
administered a drug called Narcan, which reverses the effects of narcotics.

(29:59):
I love giving this drug as the results are almost instantaneous.
And after about five seconds, a woman popped up, took
a deep gas, looked around, and said where am I?
I instantly recognized not only Australian accent, but who She
was a very famous actress married to a very famous
actor that was well known in this religious organization. Ma'am,

(30:20):
what is your name? Dear? And headlights look? Ma'am? Can
you please tell me your name? She took a good
look around, peeking in every corner, turning all the way
around to try and look into the front seat area
where my partner was, And then she turned to me
and whispered, where are they? Ma'am? The only people in

(30:43):
this ambulance with you are myself and my partner. She
again spent a full minute examining everything. She then turned
back to me with a look of complete fear I've
never seen, and I said, I'm fine, Please take me home.
I'm sorry, ma'am. We're taking to the hospital for a
full work up. I had to give you a medication

(31:03):
to wake you up, so we have to be thorough.
You have to She replied, yes, ma'am, you are completely
safe and we are taking you to he Met Hospital. Okay,
if you must, all the while her face was frozen
in fear. After about ten minutes, we pulled up to
the back of the emergency room. We rolled her out

(31:25):
of the back of the ambulance into the emergency room.
As soon as we got into a gurney in the
emergency room, she said, I need to make a phone call.
I grabbed the patient phone and handed it to her.
She dialed the phone number and to my surprise, she
got an answer at three thirty am. Antonia. Pause, tell
me something only you know about me. Pause. Okay, I

(31:48):
need you to call he Met Valley Hospital and ask
for me. I'm in the emergency room. Don't ask any questions,
and she hung up. Two minutes later, I heard her
secretary asking if it was okay to transfer for a
call to the patient, which it was. The phone rang
at her bedside and the patient answered Hello. Yes, it
is me, it is you. I really am here. I'm

(32:12):
coming home. The woman turned to me and gave me
her name, Rebecca Johnson, along with her address, social Security number,
and other information I needed. Rebecca Johnson was absolutely not
what I thought this woman's name was. Regardless, I finished
up my report and left. This was absolutely a strange call,
but we deal with strange stuff every day, so I

(32:33):
tried to push it out of my mind, but I couldn't.
For the next six months, I wondered what I had
just witnessed, what had just happened? Was she really Rebecca Johnson?
And then one day I was standing in the check
out laying at a grocery store when I saw the
magazine the woman I thought I treated as leaving her
husband of nearly eleven years. Was it a coincidence or

(32:57):
was it really her and she really flees some batshit
crazy life. I never fully know for sure, but it
seemed like too much of a coincidence for me. I'll
be more than happy to answer questions, but remember I
have to obey the hippolaws.

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Spoken of Only in Whispers | Volume 7 | Podcast E347

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}Spoken of Only in Whispers | Volume 7 | Podcast E347