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“Lost a lot of blood…”
“Tourniquet kept him alive.”
“He’s crashing…”
“...oxygen…”
“Get him on the bus…”
“Radio ahead. Tell them we’re coming in with a critical case…”
I’m in a field. The sun is shining down on me. So bright. A little too bright. I turn away from it, and behind me is a sunrise on the water. The water looks cool, and I want to go there. I want to dive in and stay there.
To my right, a figure appears.
“Great-Grandpa Balls?”
He rolls his eyes.
“You’re dead.”
“No shit, Sherlock. And here I thought you were the smart one.” He scoffs. “Turn your ass around. It’s not your time, yet.”
“Am I dreaming?”
He gives me a look.
“Am I dying?”
“It’s too soon. You have things to do. If you stay, you’ll break her heart.”
He turns around and walks toward the lake.
“Is this heaven?”
“Go toward the light.”
“I thought I was supposed to stay away from the light.”
“Christ, you’re a pain in the ass. This time the light is what you need. Go back. You need each other.”
I turn around, but the light seems so far away. I move toward it, though, because there’s a pull I can’t deny.
The steady beep is the first thing I notice as consciousness returns, a slow tide receding, awareness seeping in. My head aches. So does my arm. But my leg feels the worst. An aching burn grows with my alertness.
I crack a lid, but the light is too much to handle on top of everything else. Instead, I just breathe and try to figure out where I am and what happened.
Hospital.
The sterile scent, the beeping, the scratchy sheets.
How is the question. What happened to put me here?
As consciousness solidifies, I register the feel of warm fingers wrapped around mine. I know from the calluses it’s Winter. Wanting to see her overrides my aversion to the light, so I open one eye again. It’s not as overwhelming this time, maybe because I’m prepared. Maybe because seeing her is more important than anything else.
Her other arm is slung across the bedrail, her forehead propped on it. It can’t be comfortable. Her arm must be asleep. Her neck will most definitely have a crick in it.
I give her fingers a gentle squeeze, which slices a ridiculous jolt of pain through my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath. Her head snaps up and her eyes find mine, wide and acutely alert. They’re red-rimmed and swollen, as if she’s spent a lot of time crying recently.
