My mind is whirling. “Where?” is all I manage to say.

“Someone reported the accident from the scene of the wreck. Your body was thrown from the car and had rolled down into a ditch by the side of the road. You’re lucky they found you when they did. You must have landed near a snake’s nest. You’ve suffered a copperhead bite, but we’ve administered antivenin and treated the wound. The more serious injury was to your head, where we’ve had to alleviate internal swelling to mitigate intracranial pressure. Your condition is stable now.”

“The wreck?” I say. I try and lift my arms, my legs, but I’m immobile. I can’t even turn my head.

The doctor nods. “It may take some time for your memory to return. Assuming it does. With a concussion as serious as yours, you may never recall the accident.”

He removes the scrub cap to reveal a high forehead framed by a shock of dark gray curls. “We tested the alcohol content of your blood, and you came out clear. The police were here earlier, and will be back. They’re still looking for the passenger who was in the car with you. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

Caspian? Do I tell him about the culvert? What I heard on the radio? Where do I begin?

I try to shake my head but can’t.

“You can’t remember,” the doctor says. “That’s okay. Don’t strain. It’ll either return or it won’t, you can’t force it.”

He pulls the mask down from his face. Deep grooves line the side of his mouth. Dark whiskers are visible just below the surface of skin that sags from stress. He yawns from exhaustion and I’m either looking at a set of the world’s most masochistic dentures or an orthodontist’s wet dream. He doesn’t have teeth, he has walrus tusks. Clumps of food – little sticks that look like grasshopper legs – are caught in between them. These yellowing tusks are growing in every direction and overlapping like warped fence posts. They crowd his mouth so obscenely it’s surprising he can talk, a miracle he can eat. His mouth continues to open so wide I’m waiting for his jaw to unhinge, for the skin at the corners of his mouth to split.

Could be a trauma-induced hallucination. Or caused by the swelling of my brain. Or just a man with God-awful teeth and a coincidence of timing. Although the stuff stuck in his teeth is definitely from insects. I see the iridescence of a wing.