Apocalypse

27

Liz

My head is pounding in a dull way that just makes me want to keep my eyes shut.

One second Jason had been beating the life out of me, and then the next there was this bright flash. It had gotten very hot, very fast. I remember feeling like something was burning me. Like I'd been out in the sun too long, and the burn would hurt later. Just not right now.
Right now I feel like I never want to wake up. But I do. I have to.
I hear a crackling noise, like fire. It's still hot. The air is dry. My head is making it really hard to concentrate on anything at all. My thoughts are so slow and thick. Jumbled. I can't focus.
I groan quietly, and the noise makes my head hurt more. Everything hurts. I try to take a deep breath to help clear my thoughts of the mud that seems to be making them impossible, but I just wind up coughing and choking on the overly dry air.

I sit up, or try to at least.

I push myself off of my stomach and to my knees. The effort makes every joint in my body scream on protest, but I continue moving until I'm relatively upright. I wait until my body stops protesting my movements before I do anything else. It's several minutes before I can even fathom moving again.

I open my eyes.

There is absolutely nothing left of the CT room. Rubble is what's left of the ceiling, and the walls, and part of the floor as well. Fire burns in little patches around the room, and electricity sparks off of loose overhead wires with little zaps.
There's a massive hole in the ceiling and I can see the grey, overcast sky. Cold air rushes in through it, but it's still relatively hot in here. Though I can feel the temperature slipping to match what's outside.
I try to remember what happened exactly, but nothing comes back to me. Jason had attacked me. Blood. Pain. Brightness.
Trying to remember just gives me a worse headache.
I grunt with effort as I stumble to my feet, gasping as pain burns through my middle. I look down at myself. Blood is spreading across my abdomen slowly. I'm covered in grime and soot, and a small section of my shirt is burned. A weak sense of dread unfurls in my stomach.
I tentatively lift up the once white material to see what's bleeding.
There's a small gash running from the bottom of my ribs straight down to my hip. It's nothing deep, just painful. I sigh my relief. I can handle that. I wonder how I got it. It looks too clean to be from the explosion. A knife, maybe?
A sudden though hits me like a bucket of ice water. A shock against the heat as I feel the blood drain from my face.

Where's Kate?

I feel my heart pick up it's pace as I realize that I can't see her. The room spins a little as I force myself to my feet, but I keep moving anyways. I step to start walking but my foot catches on something heavy, eliciting a small groan from whatever I'd accidentally kicked. I stumble and almost fall back into the debris that's scattered on the ground.
I glance down and see Jason laying there, the knife -Kate's knife- still protruding from his abdomen where I'd left it.
I blink, disoriented again as I remember what happened. Well. Parts of it. It floods my head like a muddy tidal wave. It does absolutely nothing for my headache.

I'd ran out of the room when I saw the two of them begin to fight. I think I must have seen her stuff laying about in a room we passed, because I don't think I had any trouble finding the weapon. I must have come back just in time, because I think Kate had been really struggling. I'd tackled Jason without much thought. I think that's when I'd cut myself by accident. Or maybe Jason had done it.

Then there had been blood all over the place. All over my hands, all over Jason, and pooling into the floor. Startlingly red against all the white. That image is burned into my mind, apparently, because I see it with crystal clarity.

My head throbs a little harder as I remember how he was growling at me in a very feral way and slammed me against the ground. I had hit my head I think. I must have, or I wouldn't hurt so badly.