Until Ragnarok

Part 8: Darkness

The dream of pain had disappeared, and she was left to wake up in the dark. She reached an arm out to find the lamp on her side table but found an icy wall instead. Continuing to reach, she felt nothing and then discovered she had no clothes, blankets, pillows, or mattresses. The woman decided that she had fallen out of bed but couldn't locate the outline of her window.

The darkness loomed over her and she couldn't tell if she was looking up at emptiness or if she was buried alive. She waved her hand in front of her face and saw nothing. It was then that she was certain that she wasn't in her bedroom. At least she had room to move and wasn't in a coffin, but she could smell moldy dirt.

She found a gritty barrier when she stretched out her feet and hands, but reaching up and over was empty. The dusty ground she lay on didn't drop off within her reach, so she felt safe shuffling against the barrier her hands found. She could sit up comfortably, but the ceiling was too low for her to stand. Following the ceiling to where her feet had been, she determined she must be in a small tunnel.

Once she could get an idea of her surroundings, she relaxed against the curved rough wall and tried to remember how she got here, naked. Her memory was blurry, like trying to remember a dream after having woken up too fast. She remembered the pain.

Her breath caught when she remembered the arrow. Her hands shook as they moved up to her chest. Horrified that if she felt damaged skin or a foreign metal body, the pain would begin again and she wouldn't be able to restart her lungs. Kimi found nothing but unbroken skin.

What had happened to Kaida?

And how did she get here? Where were her clothes? These questions ran through her mind, but she had no answer. The last thing she remembered had been Kaida holding her in the alley. Then nothing and then this place. Which was a step up, she decided.

Kimi remembered being with Kaida and being dragged into an alley. Then Kaida saved her, the dark-haired woman who came to help, and then the arrow. She remembered Kaida crying, and pushed the sound from her mind. Where was Kaida, and where was she?

"Hello?" She said, not quite wanting a response. Kimi tried again, louder, and her voice echoed through the tunnel.

Kimi knew she couldn't stay here, but the two directions she had both looked the same as everything else around her. She decided that if you don't know where you are going, then it doesn't matter what direction you go.

Deciding that her best bet was to crawl along the ground, she followed the curved wall and crawled forward.

She crawled until her knees hurt and then moved into a carefully crouched walk, but other than that, there was no change in her surroundings. If time or distance had any indicators, Kimi could not find them. Kimi found the silence more unsettling than the dark. Things could watch her from down the tunnel, but wouldn't there be some noise? The silence was eerie. It was easy to forget all the background noises of everyday life. The hum of electronics, the shifting of your house around you, the buzz of far away vehicles, and every other indicator of life and objects surrounding you. Here there was nothing. Only the sound of her shuffling along reassured her of her hearing.

The longer she crawled, the more her mind continued to cycle back to one question. Would she have made it out of the alleyway? What if she was dead with an arrow through her chest? She didn't remember seeing a bright light or flashes of her life as her neurons fired for the last time. Kimi remembered pain and then waking up in darkness, but not how she had gotten here.

It was a common question for her patients to ask what happens after you die, as s if being a palliative care nurse came with a special sit down with Death where you learn all the secrets. But Death wasn't that accommodating and, even when expected, was more likely to sneak and leave. Death didn't give any answers, any more than Life would give answers to mothers. Both were cruel and stingy with their gifts.