Read Online The Blood In the Beginning by Kim Falconer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kim Falconer
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treatment chart clutched to my chest. No CHI Tech logo anywhere.
* * *
I woke to liquid rushing in. It was all around me, cold, pounding, like going over a waterfall. My mouth opened to scream and water poured down my throat, into my lungs. I was drowning, soundlessly. Hysterically. Crying for help without voice. It was a familiar feeling, part of the nightmare I had on unconscious speed-dial. After struggling like a maniac, I went catatonic, immobile as the sea consumed me. I sank like a rock.
Colours flashed before my eyes as I adjusted to the aqueous depths. Light was on a new spectrum, surprisingly vivid. The dull shades of mono-green that comprised the basis of my vision burst into dozens of brilliant tones. I saw colours I had no memory of and struggled to name them: wild blues, rainbow chartreuse, yellows beyond description. Was that red? I tried to scream again, maybe this time in excitement, but there was no air. Only water. I went back to fighting for breath with everything I had.
Images flashed in front of my eyes, like a time-lapse geological history of the sea in fast forward. Make that super-fast forward. There were global extinctions, a woolly mammoth being torn to bits by sharks, a whale the length of the Empire State Building, a human child falling into the sea, still alive, kicking, wrapped in chains. He landed on a bed of corals that came to life from his touch. They entwined him and he closed his eyes, smiling as he fell asleep. The chains rusted away to dust as a single word came into my head. Maâatta .
I watched as more children floated gently down toward the tombs, each embraced by the waiting corals. They looked peaceful. Asleep. Then the scene sped even faster. The entombed children matured and rose like naked spectres from the sea bed. On it went, young drifting down, some adults too, all embraced by the coral, all soon to rise, graceful, beautiful, at home in the sea. It distracted me enough to dump some of the fear-crazed thoughts. For a second or two. Then everything blurred into a murky, muddy vision. Once again, I found myself gasping for air.
* * *
Ms Sykes? Are you with us?
I took a few quick breaths, my eyes locked on the man leaning over me. It took a minute before I recognised him. Seat A15. Shit, another dream? I frowned, unable to work out how he could possibly be here otherwise. This guy in my bedroom? Thatâs a hook-up I wouldnât forget.
Who are you?
Was it my question, or his?
âIâm wondering the same thing.â The words slipped out of my mouth.
He didnât respond for some time, but lingered within my range of vision. âDo you find that interesting reading, Ms Sykes?â He nodded to the chart I clutched.
Chart? Of course. Not my bedroom. Hospital. After being beaten to crap by some crazy stalker. I rubbed my wrist and tried to sit up. Was he holding me down?
âEasy. Youâre safe now.â His voice was deep and warm, a California accent, with a hint of Eastern Euro base. I wasnât in the space to be this analytical, no matter what my Virgo horoscope said, but the sound ringing in my head when this guy spoke had my attention. It was musical. Alluring. I blinked away the underwater dream and focussed on what was real. Whoa ⦠A15 looked even better close up. That is, he did when he was the right distance away for me to see him clearly, which was about a foot and a half. I need my damn contacts! He stood tall, really tall â six four at least â with those dark almond-shaped eyes that had stared at me in the UCLA lecture hall, a strong jaw, and that wild, windblown hair, a look that didnât go with the lab coat and stethoscope draped around his neck. I shrank back. Too many times, expressionless men, and women, in similar gear had â¦
Youâre safe now.
He turned his back and checked my monitors. His words would be comforting, if I believed them. Stay Zen, let the sedatives wear off completely â
* * *
I woke to liquid rushing in. It was all around me, cold, pounding, like going over a waterfall. My mouth opened to scream and water poured down my throat, into my lungs. I was drowning, soundlessly. Hysterically. Crying for help without voice. It was a familiar feeling, part of the nightmare I had on unconscious speed-dial. After struggling like a maniac, I went catatonic, immobile as the sea consumed me. I sank like a rock.
Colours flashed before my eyes as I adjusted to the aqueous depths. Light was on a new spectrum, surprisingly vivid. The dull shades of mono-green that comprised the basis of my vision burst into dozens of brilliant tones. I saw colours I had no memory of and struggled to name them: wild blues, rainbow chartreuse, yellows beyond description. Was that red? I tried to scream again, maybe this time in excitement, but there was no air. Only water. I went back to fighting for breath with everything I had.
Images flashed in front of my eyes, like a time-lapse geological history of the sea in fast forward. Make that super-fast forward. There were global extinctions, a woolly mammoth being torn to bits by sharks, a whale the length of the Empire State Building, a human child falling into the sea, still alive, kicking, wrapped in chains. He landed on a bed of corals that came to life from his touch. They entwined him and he closed his eyes, smiling as he fell asleep. The chains rusted away to dust as a single word came into my head. Maâatta .
I watched as more children floated gently down toward the tombs, each embraced by the waiting corals. They looked peaceful. Asleep. Then the scene sped even faster. The entombed children matured and rose like naked spectres from the sea bed. On it went, young drifting down, some adults too, all embraced by the coral, all soon to rise, graceful, beautiful, at home in the sea. It distracted me enough to dump some of the fear-crazed thoughts. For a second or two. Then everything blurred into a murky, muddy vision. Once again, I found myself gasping for air.
* * *
Ms Sykes? Are you with us?
I took a few quick breaths, my eyes locked on the man leaning over me. It took a minute before I recognised him. Seat A15. Shit, another dream? I frowned, unable to work out how he could possibly be here otherwise. This guy in my bedroom? Thatâs a hook-up I wouldnât forget.
Who are you?
Was it my question, or his?
âIâm wondering the same thing.â The words slipped out of my mouth.
He didnât respond for some time, but lingered within my range of vision. âDo you find that interesting reading, Ms Sykes?â He nodded to the chart I clutched.
Chart? Of course. Not my bedroom. Hospital. After being beaten to crap by some crazy stalker. I rubbed my wrist and tried to sit up. Was he holding me down?
âEasy. Youâre safe now.â His voice was deep and warm, a California accent, with a hint of Eastern Euro base. I wasnât in the space to be this analytical, no matter what my Virgo horoscope said, but the sound ringing in my head when this guy spoke had my attention. It was musical. Alluring. I blinked away the underwater dream and focussed on what was real. Whoa ⦠A15 looked even better close up. That is, he did when he was the right distance away for me to see him clearly, which was about a foot and a half. I need my damn contacts! He stood tall, really tall â six four at least â with those dark almond-shaped eyes that had stared at me in the UCLA lecture hall, a strong jaw, and that wild, windblown hair, a look that didnât go with the lab coat and stethoscope draped around his neck. I shrank back. Too many times, expressionless men, and women, in similar gear had â¦
Youâre safe now.
He turned his back and checked my monitors. His words would be comforting, if I believed them. Stay Zen, let the sedatives wear off completely â
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