Beyond the Horizon

26. Ensnared

Nezumi's world was dark. He thought he might be awake―every inch of his body felt as if he'd been stung by a thousand pissed-off hornets and then submerged in a bathtub filled to the brim with rubbing alcohol―but if he was, he couldn't move.

          Something rumbled in the distance, and Nezumi had just enough sense to recognize it as a vehicle's engine. He was stretched out on something solid and cold, but he slid back into unconsciousness before he could try to analyze what it could be.

          When he woke again, Nezumi found himself staring up at the stars. The frigid air around him pressed down on his limbs like a heavy blanket; it was difficult to breathe, and Nezumi's chest ached. The endless balls of piercing light high up in the sky wheeled above him. Something beneath him trembled violently.

          Voices drifted from above him. The whole world sounded heavy, as if someone had plunged Nezumi deep beneath the surface of a stagnant pool. He could just barely make out the words drifting above him, but not the gender or age of the speakers.

          "...should we do with this one?"

          "Dispose of it," replied another with a disinterested snort. "Fennec's orders."

          "What a waste."

          Nezumi lost consciousness again.

          The next time Nezumi woke, he stayed awake. His head throbbed and his eyelids stuck together, crusted with tears. It took considerable effort to peel them open. Every inch of him hurt; his skin was tight with cold, dry sweat.

          Nezumi's vision swam in and out, gray clouds drifting across his pupils until he could focus on the stark-white ceiling stretched out above him. His hair clung to his forehead, unbound and bunched up beneath his skull on a paper-thin pillow. Some of it fell across Nezumi's eyes, and it took a moment for him to raise his arm and shove it out of his face.

          His chest ached, his heart hammering behind his ribs so hard he could feel it through every nerve ending in his body. Nezumi eased himself into an upright position, pausing when dizziness washed over him and turned his stomach. His body had begun to work out the tranquilizers, but the aftershock resided in his bloodstream and slowed him down.

          Nezumi squeezed his eyes together as his stomach clenched. How long had he been out? There was a fierce pang in his stomach that meant he was definitely hungry, but the thought of food made him sick.

          Panic clawed its way up his throat, but Nezumi choked it back down. Calm down. It won't do any good to panic now. Nezumi drew in a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm. Analyzing the situation was the only thing he could do now.

          He sat on the edge of the mattress and swung his legs over the side. Swallowing around the painful lump in his throat, Nezumi tried to gauge how long he'd been out cold. At least a day. He'd never had experience with tranquilizers, but the agents must have pumped him full of them to neutralize any chance of him fighting back.

          He turned his head to get a better look at where he'd been placed, but his vision swam, peppered gray and black on the edges. Nezumi squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers onto the edge of the paper-thin mattress pad, hoping the nausea would pass.

          Behind his clenched eyelids, Nezumi could see the snowy yard outside the front door of the cabin, peppered with blue and gray stars. The terrifying world yawned around him as he and Shion left the tranquility of their temporary lodging with no plan except to move forward.

          The faded, pale images coalesced into a crystal-clear image of Shion's eyes rolling into the back of his head, his knees crumpling beneath him as he collapsed onto the porch with blood trickling from his throat. Cold terror and violent rage was quickly replaced with a burning pain in the side of Nezumi's throat before everything went black.