Leaving Sherwood - A Fickle Universe Time Travel Companion

Chapter Two

It was a long time before Will became truly aware again.

There were moments, vignettes, jumbled together in his mind. Blinding bright light. Falling through space. Pain. Shock of icy water. Struggling to the shore of a lake. Carrying his son. Pain. More lights. Voices. White sterile halls. Questions with no answers. Pain.

When he became aware that some semblance of order had returned to his world, he had no idea how much time had passed.

He didn't know where he was, and dimly realized he didn't know who he was. The past was a yawning blackness hovering on the edge of his awareness, and only two things shone like lights: he had a son named Paul, and Paul had a mother . . . . He couldn't remember her name, only that he loved her very much.

After awareness came an intrusion of soft sounds. Faint humming and birdsong . . . if the bird sang only one note, over and over. Cheep, cheep, cheep. Something rattled off in the distance, and voices murmured; some of the words were English, but spoken with an accent he couldn't place.

He opened his eyes, and nothing he saw made sense. Shadows crowded the dimly lit room; tall, thin things—not men—with tiny blinking lights that were not flames. The bed he lay on was soft, with fine, crisp sheets. The frame was metal, bright as any sword, smooth and round. Light shone from under the door, and it didn't flicker like firelight. The floor was shiny, not wood or stone or dirt.

All these images were sorted and cataloged in his mind, and he had a feeling it should mean something. They didn't make sense; there were no images to compare to. He could name things like floor and light and fire, bed and sword, metal and wood. He knew words like soft and smooth and shiny, even knew what they meant, but they were like words written in the sparks of a campfire, significance gone in moments.

He lifted his hand to touch the bed frame and was surprised to find something attached to it. Closer inspection revealed some kind of hollow string that flexed when he lifted it, only to discover that it disappeared under his skin! Horrified, he clawed at it, pulling out what looked like a big sewing needle, blood glistening on the end of it.The bird started singing faster—bip bip bip bip bip—then the door burst open and a woman entered the room. Bright light blinded him and he cried out, throwing his free hand over his eyes.

"Easy does it," the woman said, but Will pulled away from her reaching hands. She managed to grasp one arm, then cried, "Orderly!"

A large, burly man entered the room and swiftly moved to the other side of the bed, grabbed his arm and held him down.

"Calm down, sir!" the woman said. "We're not going to hurt you!"

Eyes adjusting to the brightness, Will's gaze flicked from the woman to the man, then back to the woman. He didn't see any sign of aggression from either of them, saw only kindness in their eyes.

Kindness and . . . pity. Everything in him shouted that he should run, shouted of danger, but he forced the tension from his body, to lull these strangers into releasing him.

Then confusion came back. He knew the opposite of strangers was friends, but he couldn't think of anyone who might be a friend. The only other soul he knew for certain was . . . .

"Paul," he croaked, his voice so rusty with disuse the word was nearly unintelligible. "My son."

"He's here," the woman said. "In the next room. Sleeping."

At those words, he tried to rise, but again the man she'd named "Orderly" held him down.

"You can't get out of bed yet, sir. We have monitors on you. You'll rip them off."