Page 45 of The Final Storm
I place my hands on the cold cement and push, but my head weighs a thousand pounds. Trying to roll to my stomach and get up that way instead, I swing an arm across my middle and slide my other out from underneath myself. My head turns, and I’m staring at an empty black box from underneath my bed.
“Have I…” I cough, and blood bubbles on my lips. It covers the floor, warm and sticky, making my hands slide instead of helping me get up.
“Help!” the man screams close by. “She’s still in here. Get over here. Now!”
The floor vibrates with running feet, and I try once more to get up. My legs slide underneath me, and I take a few breaths in the fetal position, searing pain rushing to my head with every beat of my pulse. I push again, my arms shaking with effort, until arms wrap around my middle, rolling me back to the ground.
I almost cry from all the wasted effort, blinking up at unfamiliar faces. Before I can ask what’s happening, the corners of the room grow dark and blackness encases me again. I’m falling once more into nothingness. The anguish dissipates, making my body feel light until I drift, weightless and silent. Their voices soften into whispers that fall away.
I wake up thinking no time has passed, but this room is different. Someone has moved me to another location. I turn my head and feel the familiar sharp stab in my skull. Lori sits at my side, holding Luke’s hand with the shade of a bruise forming on one side of her face. Luke’s machines whoosh and beep beside us. In her other hand is the radio, and her lips move as she speaks into it. I can’t make out her words at first.
“… on your way back. Please hurry,” I hear her say. The rest fades into a jumble I can’t make out.
She ends the transmission and looks over at me with wild eyes. Through my agony, I almost laugh at how she gives everything away with her face. She’s worried, and she has reason to be.
“Caleb and Sam are coming back. I haven’t told them yet. I don’t want them panicking and making a mistake. Storms are coming,” she says to me.
I groan and turn my head in the other direction. “Careful,” Lori says. “Your stitches.”
Stitches?
Facing the other way, I see the plastic box empty.
Morgan!
“Where?” I say. The best I can manage is one word, but inside I want to scream and ask a million questions.
“We’re looking. No boats are missing. She’s here somewhere.”
I can’t keep my eyes open, and I feel Lori’s hand grab mine.
“You’re…” I point up at her head. “The b-blood.”
“I’m fine. Got a few stitches of my own,” she winces. “Luke’s fine, and we’ll find Morgan. Someone attacked you in your room. A passenger saw someone follow you in and…” Lori tilts her head and squints her eyes, unsure of how to continue.
“And?” I croak.
“I don’t know. They heard a struggle and broke through the door to help you. I think your attacker slipped out of my room. Do you remember what happened?”
I shake my head what little I can with the pain. “You’re…” My throat feels like sandpaper, and with each cough, the knife digs into my skull. The room spins in my confusion, and I know I can’t stay. I’m slipping back into sleep.
“Shhh,” Lori says. “Please rest.”
I lift my hand and touch her cheek. “You’re… okay.”
Lori’s eyes fill with worry. “Yes, I’m fine. Row… you had a head injury…” but her words fade to nothing, and I feel my arm fall to the side, scraping along the metal frame of the bed.
The world drifts, blackness taking over.
No.
It’s too late. I’m falling back into nothing. My eyes are open, but they stare out at empty space. Peaceful darkness surrounds me and with the pain gone, my mind stops, letting my body relax until I succumb to the feeling.
This time when I wake up, it’s night. Not the sinking black of night from a moment before, but the soft moonlit night where you can see well enough without the sun. I hear crickets in the distance and people talking, people laughing. There’s a fire and the heat from the flames wafts on one side of my body. I turn my head, but there’s no pain. A small relief that allows my shoulders to relax as I lay in a field of grass once more.
Not real.
I lick my lips and stare at a thousand stars in the night sky. My sister’s voice rings out amongst the laughter. “He’s changed zero diapers and here he is, complaining about the smell. You have no right, sir. I mean, the audacity!”
