Uncharted: A Thief's Legacy

Chapter VIII - Waking Up To Ash And Dust

Sam blinked. He tried to open his eyes, but he was immediately blinded by the daylight. He pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. As his eyes adjusted, he got a good look at the scene and realized the brightness came from a hole in the side of his house where the couch and living room windows used to be.

The wrist he had broken was hurting and gingerly he rotated his arm and wiggled his fingers, but it didn't seem rebroken, just sore. Actually, all of him was sore and he became aware that he had a headache. He was essentially sitting up against his kitchen island, and just to his right, on the floor between the island and the wall, lay Nathan.

Sam scrambled to his brother and shook him gently.

"Nathan? Hey, Nathan? Hey, c'mon, wake up, little brother," Sam said through gritted teeth. "Fuck, c'mon, don't do this to me, Nathan. Not now." He bent forward and pressed his ear against Nathan's chest, and when he heard a heartbeat he relaxed slightly. Nathan was alive and his heartbeat was strong, but he was out cold.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. He hadn't been unconscious for more than about fifteen minutes. There weren't even any new notifications on his phone. Not that he got many to begin with, he didn't have social media- or very many friends.

He briefly considered calling Elena, but decided he'd better wait until he knew Nathan's status, so that he didn't scare her for no reason. Sam leaned back against the counter and resigned himself to waiting.

He started to doze off but jerked awake at the sound of someone moving. Nathan still lay on the floor, but he was obviously awake and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"Nathan!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his side.

"Yeah, dammit, what happened? I have one hell of a headache," Nathan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"That fucker pulled a grenade on us. Now I'll never be able to sell this house," Sam said. "How do you feel? You should probably stay laying down for a little while."

"I mean, everything hurts. I want to sit up."

"Probably a bad idea," Sam said, but Nathan held out his hand and Sam grabbed it and pulled him up so that he was sitting.

"Oh, crap, I'm dizzy, Sam," Nathan mumbled, hunching forward.

"I told you not to get up yet," Sam said. "You were out for..." -he checked his phone again- "like forty-five minutes. Probably have a hell of a concussion."

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec," Nathan said breathlessly. "Okay. I think I'm good. We need to get out of here, Sam. They, someone, I don't know, knows where we are."

"I realize that. Just make sure you're okay." He laid a hand on Nathan's shoulder, but he brushed it away.