Bundle of Branches

Chapter 10

Dante wakes up with a start, a shiver running down his spine.

The emergency med bay is dark. Thalia is asleep in a folding chair next to his cot, her arm thrown over her eyes and her breathing even. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

He's been shot twice - once in the shoulder, and once in the back. Now he's lying on the floor, feeling the cold metal under his cheek, tasting blood in his mouth. Why can't he breathe? His lungs burn from a lack of oxygen. What's going on? Someone's dragging him, but he can't see who it is. His heart thuds in his chest, echoing in his ears. Darkness moves in around him like a blanket, and it's nice. He wants to drift away, he wants to sleep. Just for a little bit.

Dante closes his hands into fists. He hates this, he hates remembering what happened. The raw terror of feeling two bullets rip through him is just as palpable now as it was the day that it happened. He can still remember what it was like to feel his knees buckle, his body slamming against the ground. And he remembers dying, too. He remembers being pulled, his consciousness severed as he floated away.

Tears bite at his eyes. How is he alive right now? Someone... on the bus... must have done CPR. He remembers feeling hands pushing on his chest, his ribs breaking as he took his first gasp back to life. He remembers seeing fuzzy faces hovering above him, their voices faint, talking and yelling and crying. They must have been Thalia and Izzy; Teddy is usually the one who drives.

Dante looks over at Thalia. Her long black hair is splayed over the back of the chair, her head resting on her jacket crumpled up into a ball. She's beautiful, he thinks. He can't bear to be useless, his arm paralyzed for the rest of his life, forced to stay home on jobs. Because then how would she think of him? She'd find someone else. No one would want to be around him. He would die alone. He has to be able to move his arm again. But when he tries, nothing happens. It's like it isn't even attached to his body. He swallows back tears - he can't cry, not now.

And then the flashback comes on again, playing like a loop in his head: He's on the bus, his vision blurry, feeling the vehicle shake as it drives on the bumpy street. His chest, it hurts so badly, as if he's been holding his breath for a long time. Breathing - he should be breathing. But he can't, he can't breathe. His back burns, too. He vaguely remembers running away from something, from someone, and then getting shot. How long ago was that? How many times was he shot? From what, or whom, was he running away? He has so many questions, and he doesn't know the answer to any of them. He just wants to close his eyes.

Without fail, the flashbacks keep coming. They cycle through his head, going from getting shot, to dying, to being resuscitated, to getting back to camp, to having the stupid tube put into his chest. And they won't stop. He just wants to forget any of this happened, to get his bandages taken off, to be able to live the rest of his life in peace with Thalia. But it looks like that's not going to happen. It's never going to happen if he keeps getting flashbacks, if he keeps not being able to move his arm.

They're carrying him off of the bus, and everyone is looking at him. He hates it, he doesn't want all of these people paying attention to him. It's embarrassing; he was weak, he was shot, and now he's probably dying and everyone can plainly see that. His chest hurts, and he still can't breathe. But he sees Thalia next to him, or at least he thinks he does, and now he's fighting. He's fighting to suck air into his lungs, he's fighting to keep his eyes open, he's fighting to live. He doesn't want to leave Thalia.

With a sinking feeling, Dante realizes that the flashbacks are growing closer and closer together. What if one of these times, they won't let up? What if he's trapped in this loop forever? His breathing quickens, and he turns to Thalia. She's still sleeping, so he reaches out and takes her hand.

She jumps, sitting up. There are dark smudges under her eyes from exhaustion. "Dante, what's... what's wrong?" She yawns, and then studies his face, concerned.

"Tal, the flashbacks, they- they won't stop, and they're- they're closer together now, and I'm scared that-" His words break off. He swallows, squeezing her hand. "I want you to- to be awake, in case- in case they keep going, in case I get stuck inside them."

Thalia nods. "Of course I will, babe. Just... here." She adjusts his pillow, helping him sit up a bit. "Try to take deep breaths. I won't let go of your hand, don't worry, and I certainly won't leave you. I'll be right here."

He's in the emergency med bay, panic filling his mind. He can sense death looming over him. It's waiting to take him away. The area smells like medicine and antiseptic, and it hurts his nose. Something touches his face - a nasal cannula. Slowly, his lungs begin to not hurt; he starts to feel hopeful again. Now somebody is wiping his chest with something cold, and then there's a needle that goes between his ribs, but it's numb.

Dante's heart is beating fast. He can only give Thalia a terrified glance before he's pulled under again. This time, his mind is flooded with images and emotions and scents - blood, bullets, fear, pills, oxygen tanks, needles, pain, and the overwhelming feeling that death is coming for him. He struggles against it, but the flashback is too strong.

He's shot. It burns, it's the worst pain he's ever felt in his life, and then he's shot again. He falls to the floor, nearly cracking his head against the ground. Someone is dragging him, trying to pull him somewhere, and then everything goes dark. But then there's pressure on his chest and his eyes are open, he's alive again, and there are people standing over him. He is lying down somewhere, and everything is shaking.

Now he's being carried away, and people are staring at him, and he shrinks into himself. Out of nowhere, Thalia appears beside him. She holds his hand, and all of a sudden he wants to live, he no longer wishes to be pulled into death. He tries hard to breathe, to stay awake, to be brave as he's taken into the emergency med bay and someone is wiping his chest with something. Then they stick him with a needle, and cut into his chest, but he can't feel it. He can't feel anything.

Now he's back in the warehouse, and someone shoots him twice. He falls to the ground, and he can't breathe, and-

"Dante?" A voice cuts through the fog. Dante can almost feel someone holding his hand. "Dante, you have to wake up. Come on, babe. This is a flashback."

The warehouse is dissolving around him.

He opens his eyes.

Thalia is holding his hand, and she looks frightened. "Dante," she says again, her voice edged with tears. "Are you okay?"

And now he's crying. He can't stop the tears from falling down his face. "Tal, I felt it, I felt myself get shot. I felt myself die. I felt myself be revived. Everything that happened, I felt." He wipes his eyes. "It was going to repeat again, except- you said my name, and I heard you, and it... I don't know... it helped get me out of it. But what if it happens again?"

"If it happens again, I'll get you out of it again. We can do this together; we can work together. Alright?" says Thalia. She leans down and kisses him on the forehead, and then smiles. "I love you so much, Dante, and I will love you no matter what happens."