Away From Here- Chapter 22.
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Chapter 22.
What We Find When We Wake.
She wakes, a slow, foggy drag out of the deepest depths of unconsciousness, painfully blurred and achy, to a room that is unfamiliar and dark, lit only by the humming glow of pale blue florescents that line the walls. Lights of all other colours glitter across the room, but they are dimmed by the bright blue of the light, their glow like a night light, splattering the room with crafted shadows of blue and black.
Her thoughts have yet to process where she is, her mind too cloudy and fogged up, like someone's wrapped cotton wool around her inside of her head and pulled tight, suffocating under an oppressive fuzz. Her body aches all over, demanding of her mind what little resources she has left in an attempt to work out from where it’s emanating.
She gives up after a while and realises that it stems from nowhere, it just is.
She groans, softly into the dim room, attempting to move slightly, but her limbs are heavy and uncooperative and even flexing her arms exhausts her.
She realises that, without warning, a hard, oppressive beep has begun from beside her, a steady one-two, like one might get counting down a self-destruct sequence, it makes her brain ache and she tries to cover her ears from it, as though her hands might protect her from it worming into her head, burrowing into the very centre of all that cotton wool.
Then, as soon as it came, it’s gone, and the room is plunged into silence.
She groans again, and, as if on cue, light spills into the room, heavy, florescent yellow slices across the room in a hard, wide line, making her eyes burn red hot. She shuts them, bright orange glaring across her closed lids.
Two people come through, their bodies silhouetted against the bright lights from outside. She can see them as she blearily opens her eyes, her nerves still protesting at the scalding light, but slowly growing used to it. The door hisses shut behind her and the blue lights switch to white, and the room is lit up in bright florescent, no longer crafted of shadows but of chrome and gleaming metal.
She recognises her surroundings now, the machinery, the man and woman in clean white lab coats, the PDA clutched the woman's hands, she recognises every inch of them, even if she’s not sure she’s ever seen them before.
She’s back.
Buried under a few hundred feet of soil and rock, away from everything above, shielded from what she knows is there.
Her skin feels too small, she itches all over. She wants out.
But she doesn’t want to go back up there. She can’t go back up there, can’t look at that world and know what a lie it is.
The two people come to stand beside her bed, and she recognises the man, his blonde hair and bright eyes, and for a moment she almost mistakes him for someone else, but his hair is too long, hanging around his shoulders, and he smiles at her, asking the nurse to check her vitals.
Carl smiles down at her, bright white teeth gleaming. “Welcome back Miss Knight,” he says to her, the picture of perfect bedside manner. “How are you feeling?”
Mara doesn’t have an answer for that, so she doesn't say anything at all.
Carl doesn’t seem perturbed. He motions to the nurse and she tosses him the PDA over the bed. They look like they do this all the time, the movements slick and aligned, and yet, still natural, as though it’s developed, rather than taught. He scrolls through the words, diagnosis and treatments no doubt, nodding like he understands everything on there, as if he was there when it happened.
He gives the nurse an unreadable look before tossing the PDA back to her. She catches it and tucks it under her arm.
“Well, Mara, we have good news and bad news,” he tells her, with that face that doctors always use when there’s something important to be said, that sort of commanding calm that made Mara’s stomach twist as a little child.
But it doesn’t bother her now; she just feels cold and empty. She wonders why he told her the news was bad, when she’s already experienced the worst things possible.
“So uh, would you prefer the bad new or the good news first?” he prompts her and Mara just shrugs; it makes no difference to her after all.
The nurse shakes her head at her, but Mara doesn’t really care what she thinks of her.
Carl ploughs on, deciding for her it seems. “Well, the good news is that we got to you before you caught hypothermia. Thank god for the tracking chips,” he tells her and she scowls. Of course they would have accessed her chip, why hadn’t she thought of that before she started this foolhardy mission?
Oh yeah, because she wasn’t thinking.
She’s starting to wonder if she ever thinks.
“Plus, they’re not going to send you home for that stunt you pulled. I mean for escaping... Well, I mean for leaving the compound,” Carl continues on, his stumbling coming back.
“Although they really should,” the nurse pipes up, giving her a stern glare. Carl gives her a glare of his own and she shrugs.
Mara’s not paying them much attention; she doesn’t have the energy or the patience, not today.
They’ve started rambling now, chatting over her like she’s not even there and she rolls her eyes, lolling her head towards Carl. “Are you going to tell me the bad news?” she asks, her voice almost vicious in its croaky, unused texture.
Carl snaps to look at her. “Oh? What? Oh, yes, right.” There’s something that flitters across his face for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his professional mask and he looks down at her, looking solemn. “You see, Mara, the thing is...”
He trails off, almost unsure and the nurse glares at him.
“Basically, you landed on your leg, crushing it,” the nurse tells her. “You then fell down a steep slope, and your leg sustained significant damage. We’ve repaired the damage to the bone and surrounding epidermal layers but-”
“But the nerve and muscle damage was too great,” Carl tells her. “We couldn’t repair it well enough to fix all the damage.” He gives her a pitying look, but she’s not looking back- because the bottom’s just dropped out of her- and her entire world lays sprawled through the fluorescent lights, cracking down the middle before her eyes.
She didn’t think she could feel any worse than she did in the outside world
She was wrong.
Next Chapter>>
Chapter 22.
What We Find When We Wake.
She wakes, a slow, foggy drag out of the deepest depths of unconsciousness, painfully blurred and achy, to a room that is unfamiliar and dark, lit only by the humming glow of pale blue florescents that line the walls. Lights of all other colours glitter across the room, but they are dimmed by the bright blue of the light, their glow like a night light, splattering the room with crafted shadows of blue and black.
Her thoughts have yet to process where she is, her mind too cloudy and fogged up, like someone's wrapped cotton wool around her inside of her head and pulled tight, suffocating under an oppressive fuzz. Her body aches all over, demanding of her mind what little resources she has left in an attempt to work out from where it’s emanating.
She gives up after a while and realises that it stems from nowhere, it just is.
She groans, softly into the dim room, attempting to move slightly, but her limbs are heavy and uncooperative and even flexing her arms exhausts her.
She realises that, without warning, a hard, oppressive beep has begun from beside her, a steady one-two, like one might get counting down a self-destruct sequence, it makes her brain ache and she tries to cover her ears from it, as though her hands might protect her from it worming into her head, burrowing into the very centre of all that cotton wool.
Then, as soon as it came, it’s gone, and the room is plunged into silence.
She groans again, and, as if on cue, light spills into the room, heavy, florescent yellow slices across the room in a hard, wide line, making her eyes burn red hot. She shuts them, bright orange glaring across her closed lids.
Two people come through, their bodies silhouetted against the bright lights from outside. She can see them as she blearily opens her eyes, her nerves still protesting at the scalding light, but slowly growing used to it. The door hisses shut behind her and the blue lights switch to white, and the room is lit up in bright florescent, no longer crafted of shadows but of chrome and gleaming metal.
She recognises her surroundings now, the machinery, the man and woman in clean white lab coats, the PDA clutched the woman's hands, she recognises every inch of them, even if she’s not sure she’s ever seen them before.
She’s back.
Buried under a few hundred feet of soil and rock, away from everything above, shielded from what she knows is there.
Her skin feels too small, she itches all over. She wants out.
But she doesn’t want to go back up there. She can’t go back up there, can’t look at that world and know what a lie it is.
The two people come to stand beside her bed, and she recognises the man, his blonde hair and bright eyes, and for a moment she almost mistakes him for someone else, but his hair is too long, hanging around his shoulders, and he smiles at her, asking the nurse to check her vitals.
Carl smiles down at her, bright white teeth gleaming. “Welcome back Miss Knight,” he says to her, the picture of perfect bedside manner. “How are you feeling?”
Mara doesn’t have an answer for that, so she doesn't say anything at all.
Carl doesn’t seem perturbed. He motions to the nurse and she tosses him the PDA over the bed. They look like they do this all the time, the movements slick and aligned, and yet, still natural, as though it’s developed, rather than taught. He scrolls through the words, diagnosis and treatments no doubt, nodding like he understands everything on there, as if he was there when it happened.
He gives the nurse an unreadable look before tossing the PDA back to her. She catches it and tucks it under her arm.
“Well, Mara, we have good news and bad news,” he tells her, with that face that doctors always use when there’s something important to be said, that sort of commanding calm that made Mara’s stomach twist as a little child.
But it doesn’t bother her now; she just feels cold and empty. She wonders why he told her the news was bad, when she’s already experienced the worst things possible.
“So uh, would you prefer the bad new or the good news first?” he prompts her and Mara just shrugs; it makes no difference to her after all.
The nurse shakes her head at her, but Mara doesn’t really care what she thinks of her.
Carl ploughs on, deciding for her it seems. “Well, the good news is that we got to you before you caught hypothermia. Thank god for the tracking chips,” he tells her and she scowls. Of course they would have accessed her chip, why hadn’t she thought of that before she started this foolhardy mission?
Oh yeah, because she wasn’t thinking.
She’s starting to wonder if she ever thinks.
“Plus, they’re not going to send you home for that stunt you pulled. I mean for escaping... Well, I mean for leaving the compound,” Carl continues on, his stumbling coming back.
“Although they really should,” the nurse pipes up, giving her a stern glare. Carl gives her a glare of his own and she shrugs.
Mara’s not paying them much attention; she doesn’t have the energy or the patience, not today.
They’ve started rambling now, chatting over her like she’s not even there and she rolls her eyes, lolling her head towards Carl. “Are you going to tell me the bad news?” she asks, her voice almost vicious in its croaky, unused texture.
Carl snaps to look at her. “Oh? What? Oh, yes, right.” There’s something that flitters across his face for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his professional mask and he looks down at her, looking solemn. “You see, Mara, the thing is...”
He trails off, almost unsure and the nurse glares at him.
“Basically, you landed on your leg, crushing it,” the nurse tells her. “You then fell down a steep slope, and your leg sustained significant damage. We’ve repaired the damage to the bone and surrounding epidermal layers but-”
“But the nerve and muscle damage was too great,” Carl tells her. “We couldn’t repair it well enough to fix all the damage.” He gives her a pitying look, but she’s not looking back- because the bottom’s just dropped out of her- and her entire world lays sprawled through the fluorescent lights, cracking down the middle before her eyes.
She didn’t think she could feel any worse than she did in the outside world
She was wrong.
Next Chapter>>