Rise

Chapter Twenty Four: The Long Road

Matt awoke to something rough and moist brushing against his fingers. “So I still have fingers,” Matt muttered to himself before realizing the pain that would come with it. Even opening his eyes was a chore, but he knew he had to get moving. If he gave in and just lay there, waiting for the pain to subside he knew that would mean death. For Matt, death was not an option. Not when there was something he could do about it. 

As the world came into focus, Matt’s first sight was Flint’s snout, and what a welcome sight indeed! The dog was licking at his fingers and delicately nibbling on the tips, trying to rouse him. Matt let out a moan as he clenched his fingers, testing their strength. Just pulling his right hand together sent a spike down his arm, every muscle screaming in protest. But it had to be done. Matt wedged his left hand out from under his side, his arm feeling as if it was on fire from the inside as he did so.

Soon both his arms were free, but free from what, Matt still wasn’t quite sure. Something heavy was pressing down on top of him, but he could still wiggle his legs and feet, so he knew those were still attached to his body. Unless I’ve developed some sort of magical power, Matt thought to himself as he grasped out for a handhold in front of him. 

Matt’s fingers soon found a mangled piece of metal that seemed sturdy enough from the look of it, but as soon as he pulled it came straight out of the ground. Matt discarded it and  began to search for another. As he stretched out further to try and find something stronger, Matt learned how beaten up he really was. Every movement was a chore, and his muscles burned and clenched up every time he reached just a little bit too far. 

Grabbing another bent piece of debris, from the helicopter no doubt, Matt pulled hard. The charred metal groaned as Matt gained a few inches before it bent even more and came loose, sending Matt’s elbow flying back into his side. 

Matt cursed and groaned before flinging the scrap away in frustration, watching it bounce and tumble off of other hunks of wrecked aircraft. His body heaved as he let out a great sigh, slamming his fist into the dirt. He knew he could still drag himself out with his bare hands, but he was dreading the pain that would accompany it. It was like crawling out of bed on a cold day, when the covers are just so cozy. He knew he had to do it, but he didn’t want to. 

Summoning up his strength, Matt flexed his body, preparing himself. He dug his fingers into the dirt, and pressed his elbows down against the ground, getting as good a grip as he could. Gritting his teeth, Matt pulled forward with his upper body, straining every muscle that would help pull him out. 

It took him a few minutes to work himself free, wriggling violently while Flint barked encouragingly. The world around him quickly expanded from churned earth to a disastrous landscape. Wrecked helicopter parts were all around, and in the distance Matt could see husks of the trucks that had previously carried soldiers into battle. The sky burned an angry orange, at least when Matt could see it through the haze of smoke and debris hanging in the air like a heavy blanket. 

Matt thought that must have been how it looked during the Great War. A barren world filled with dead things, and an angry sky looking down upon them. He slowly rose to his feet, a million daggers stabbing into every joint as he did so. Sighing heavily, Matt let his shoulders drop and his hands fall to his sides. He was alive. That was more than many could say, he supposed. Then why do I feel so defeated? Matt thought to himself.

For a while Matt just stood there, unsure of what to do. He didn’t exactly know which direction would lead him back to Foundation, though he figured he could pinpoint the compound, and head the opposite way. He couldn’t remember the truck making many turns on the way over, but then again, he had other things on his mind.