And There Was Another✔️

Chapter 15: Aftermath

Seth slept.

He dreamed.

In one dream, he saw his mother, briefly. He was young, he'd been sleeping in his bed in the tiny apartment he and his parents lived in. It was a good time. His father had finally, finally gotten a better job and was making some real credits. They'd moved from the tiny, one-bedroom place they'd been living in to a bigger apartment and he actually had his own room. He'd woken because his mother had come into the room. He looked up at her. She was staring down at him, smiling. Was there something she wanted?

"Go back to sleep, honey," she said softly, and reached down, gently running her fingers through his hair.

She pulled the blanket up more firmly around him and then left the room.

It was one of the most comforting things he'd ever felt.

Seth went back to sleep.

In another dream, he was back in that cold, bad place. The place of pain. Strapped down to a table with a man with red eyes leering down at him, a bloody scalpel in hand, and his stomach was on fire. The scalpel dipped again and began carving into his left eye.

He screamed.

It felt like the end of the world.

In another dream he was on a nameless battlefield beneath a poisoned silver sky, fighting faceless enemies with only his blade and his determination. There seemed to be no other soldiers on his side, no friendlies.

He fought this war alone.

Seth dreamed on and on.

Mostly they were nightmares.

* * *

When Seth woke up, it wasn't abrupt like many times before.

It was slow. Gradual. Like the sun rising on the distant horizon, turning the skies slowly gray. He had a few false starts, where he tried to awaken, but felt too weak and slipped back into unconsciousness. Seth had no idea how much time passed between these attempts. It could have been minutes or days.

When he did finally, truly awaken, he heard a soft, steady beeping sound. It took him a few seconds to realize it was a pulse monitor. Where was he? What had happened? His thoughts were...almost nonexistent. His mind was little more than a blank slate right then. There was a vague sense of dread, of horror, of sickening revulsion. It loomed over his brain like a tidal wave on the horizon, and it filled him with a slow but intense terror. It seeped into his mind like blood in water. Seth swallowed, or tried to.

His throat was very dry.

He blinked and found himself staring at a ceiling. This was familiar. This had happened before. More than once. Recently. But it was different. It took him what might have been several minutes to realize that it was the quality of the ceiling he was looking at that was different. He remembered a rusted, pitted, ancient corrugated ceiling before. This one was smooth and clean and pristine. It almost looked new.

Where was he?

Seth tried to move, and after a little bit of effort, managed to sit up. He at least had his strength back. Back? Had it left? The tidal wave of terror was looming closer. He didn't want to think. Instead, he became aware of another noise in the room as he began to survey his surroundings. Breathing. Steady, regular breathing, like someone sleeping. That, too, was familiar. He realized that he was in an infirmary of some kind, a patient room to be precise. He had been sleeping in a hospital bed. And he was dressed in a thin, white hospital gown.

There was another bed, and on it, another form.

He recognized her immediately. Nova.

She was asleep, on her side, facing away from him. Was she okay? Were the others? He began to remember. Taris. The rakghouls. The ship. Their escape. It was too big and he felt his stomach turn over as he began to feel the enormity of the horror he had witnessed. Seth pushed it down, focused on something else, something less big.