(Harsh Language)
Brenna’s form was consumed by light — blinding light. Ash could hear her words, but it was not her voice that spoke them. He tried to call out to her, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His skin lifted from the muscle below it and puckered and peeled in a sickly yellow smoke. He thought perhaps he'd die soon and it would all be over, this nightmare he woke into 70 years ago. Finally, by the hands of The Morrigan, he’d be free…
"Gunshot wound, collapsed lung--"
"Exit wound?"
"Let me see."
"Yes here, straight through."
"Small fucking blessings. When are they going to stop letting children throw their lives away, Gerald? Fucking tragic. Yeah one, two, three--nghh."
"Got him. Get a chest tube ready, if the little bastard doesn't bleed out first..."
Darkness.
".....transfer....................treatment........................."
"..................................safer there........................................."
"We have advanced.........................................techniques. He'll be in good hands."
Darkness.
Gasping for air. Nothing. Can't breathe. Can't breathe!
"Relax. It's your respiratory reflex and your conscious mind at odds, 74. Youre not getting any Oxygen, because you don't need any Oxygen. I know it feels like your suffocating, but I assure, you are not. Breathe normally if you wish, or hold your breath if that's easier."
"I can't--" Restrained. Can't move. Can't breathe. Why can't I breathe?
"Shhh. You're going to find a lot of things are new now, try to be patient."
Lights. Why are they all wearing lamps? What is that? It's so loud.
"What is that...that noise, doctor? Where are we? Is it aircraft?"
"No, 74, there are no aircraft."
"Are we being shelled? Bombed?!"
“It's my heartbeat. It's all our heartbeats. I expect you can hear them all."
Red.
"I'm so....thirsty....could I have some water? I was shot. I was shot in Manila-- Please, I'm so thirsty!"
Darkness.
Caged.
Words on my tongue. Words that aren’t mine. I ‘ve gone mad! "DAMN YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN, KAUFFMANN! WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR THROAT MYSELF! AND AFTER THAT I'LL EAT YOUR FAMILY ,YOU BASTARD!"
"That's very illustrative, 74. But you won't be doing any of that. You know that. Now please, sit down or I'll open the window."
"DO IT. DO IT AND BE DONE WITH ME! Nnngghh---" His filthy mind, I hate him! He'll see, he'll see!
"You touch my mind again, 74, and I'll see to it you get nothing for weeks. You're already a pretty piss-poor failure, you're lucky they didn't cull you at the start. You’re on the list though."
I scream. I threaten him. I threaten his family. I am truly mad.
Sunlight. I cower from him.
Darkness.
"I’ve seen enough,” he says, “I hate you psychics. I don't know why the boys keep fucking around with that. I'm calling it. I'm done with you, 74."
Darkness.
Starvation.
Am I dying?
I screamed for days. No one answered. I've felt every inch of every wall of my concrete cage a thousand times. The door is above me in the ceiling, made of lead and must be raised by a crane from above. I am in a hole, no a grave. A grave for the undying. Will I be here forever? If I could only sleep...
"Brenna...." Maddox shaped the word as carefully as he could with serpentine tongue and lipless mouth. He hid behind the only relief from the blazing sunlight that threatened salvation, "You're not...Brenna...are you?”