04-29-2019, 08:02 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-29-2019, 08:03 PM by Jay Carpenter.)
Her voice filtered, but Jay’s eyes did not open.
“Papa, what is wrong with him?”
Sleep. Just wanted sleep. Maybe he was dying? He’d seen plenty of people die before. He wouldn’t say his was the hand that dealt the final blow. Bullets and bad armor did that. Except for that one time – no that was also a bullet. That other time though. With, uh, Nox. Yeah. The concert. There was some batshit crazy guy the row ahead. He could still hear the screams of his victim. The way her body trembled in his arms when he scooped her up. So maybe he wasn’t the one that sliced the monster’s throat, Nox did that, technically. But Jay helped. Blood was on his hands, too. Surprisingly, it ended up being a fun fucking night.
Amengual’s voice broke like an avalanche, “Puta madre, Placaso. If he dies, I will gut you with my own bare hands,” he said. A blow followed grunts of pain. He wished he’d could have seen the blue-eyed man getting the shit beat out of him, but given that was only likely to happen if he was dead, there wouldn’t be much point. Clearly Amengual was not happy. Nobody answered the girl’s question, though. Jay started to get worried. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? Strangely, the pain was gone. That was probably a bad sign. What was wrong with him?
They shuffled around. The chair was tipped to the ground, sideways. Jay’s temple pattered lightly against the concrete. Palms snaked his cheek, surprisingly gentle. A woman’s voice followed. “He’s having a seizure, Zacarias,” she said. “Get him out of these restraints or he’s likely to break his neck.” His voice raised abject protest, but hers remained hard as steel. “You want him to die then?”
A moment later, his entire weight dropped to the floor. Cold puddled his skin. It wasn’t for long. Boots to the ribs rolled him to his back. He saw her face only a moment before a pinch took his arm: woman, short hair, doctor's coat. Lead flooded his bones heavy. Sleep swarmed a new flood just as he was lifted to the air.
“Papa, what is wrong with him?”
Sleep. Just wanted sleep. Maybe he was dying? He’d seen plenty of people die before. He wouldn’t say his was the hand that dealt the final blow. Bullets and bad armor did that. Except for that one time – no that was also a bullet. That other time though. With, uh, Nox. Yeah. The concert. There was some batshit crazy guy the row ahead. He could still hear the screams of his victim. The way her body trembled in his arms when he scooped her up. So maybe he wasn’t the one that sliced the monster’s throat, Nox did that, technically. But Jay helped. Blood was on his hands, too. Surprisingly, it ended up being a fun fucking night.
Amengual’s voice broke like an avalanche, “Puta madre, Placaso. If he dies, I will gut you with my own bare hands,” he said. A blow followed grunts of pain. He wished he’d could have seen the blue-eyed man getting the shit beat out of him, but given that was only likely to happen if he was dead, there wouldn’t be much point. Clearly Amengual was not happy. Nobody answered the girl’s question, though. Jay started to get worried. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? Strangely, the pain was gone. That was probably a bad sign. What was wrong with him?
They shuffled around. The chair was tipped to the ground, sideways. Jay’s temple pattered lightly against the concrete. Palms snaked his cheek, surprisingly gentle. A woman’s voice followed. “He’s having a seizure, Zacarias,” she said. “Get him out of these restraints or he’s likely to break his neck.” His voice raised abject protest, but hers remained hard as steel. “You want him to die then?”
A moment later, his entire weight dropped to the floor. Cold puddled his skin. It wasn’t for long. Boots to the ribs rolled him to his back. He saw her face only a moment before a pinch took his arm: woman, short hair, doctor's coat. Lead flooded his bones heavy. Sleep swarmed a new flood just as he was lifted to the air.
Only darkness shows you the light.