Running on empty - 6

Since retiring Steve had tried hard to keep himself active and the dog had helped. He also liked a routine, a short spell in the Army had given him that as a legacy. Sundays for instance, he liked to wander across to his favourite takeaway – Smiths Fish & Chips. Danny was a large, almost black alsatian and he appreciated the fish that his owner fed him bit by bit on the way home.
With both pieces of fish eaten, he eschewed the chips, Steve crossed the road to deposit the wrapping only to find that the waste-bin had gone. This upset the routine because the nearest bin he knew of was over by the triangle. With a shrug he gave Danny a tug on the lead and set off.
At least it would gave a chance to see how the garden was developing. He had kept an eye on things from the outset. It was pleasing to see a bit of ground get a bit of life put back into it. Also, the girl who was overseeing the creation and who lived in the caravan might be there to chat. When, through talking, she had learned that he too liked gardening, she questioned him mercilessly about what shrubs he grew. - It turned out that they both favoured the Native species over some of the delightful yet showy cultivars. Roses, of course, being excepted.
Danny could have a runabout whilst they were there and they could take the canal path to get back to on the original route and complete a good walk.
As the evening was a pleasant one he decided that while the dog had his run he could sit and roll a smoke. Danny ran across to the far wall to cock his leg and Steve made himself comfortable on one of the new seats and assembled a cigarette.
The ‘grey-area’ had certainly changed. He mused on the amount of change, admiring the new seats cleverly cut from solid logs from trees that had fallen in last winters storms. The sturdy pergola that followed the curling path now had wisteria growing up one of the supports. From the other end a rose had been twisted around another support and some way across the top and had been donated in its entirety from a house due for demolition. He had heard the tale of how she had begged the owner to let her dig it up (along with a couple of other plants), and replant it. The length of the climber gave thought as to how she had got the damn thing here! Pathways curled and twisted hither and yon. Shrubs dotted all over, some in groups others alone in isolated beds that were freshly dug.
Before he could put a light to the constructed cigarette Danny alerted him to something amiss - the timbre of his bark changed when trouble was at hand. He ran across to the caravan where Danny stood barking.

When she came-to, she could not quite make out where she was, the ceiling swirled, her head ached and she felt sore and cold and she had vomited.
The muffled staccato sound in her ears was something that she thought was coming from within and she struggled with the conflict of information and then lost out to the void once again.
A few moments of darkness then; Hands moved and straightened her, lowering her to the floor. Eyes stared into hers. A dog barked. Her limbs were sorted into a comfortable position. Words were spoken. Mobile phones were used. Other people came and then she was carried and doors slammed and movement and then more people. Corridors. White lights shining bright even through closed eyes. Voices. Darkness. Humming from machines. Light again. Movement and confusion. Voices and then a sharp pain and oblivion.