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Dave drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Every time he woke, he’d keep his eyes shut, feeling an overwhelming and nameless sense of dread. Then he’d remember that he’d escaped, that no one was waiting to torture him more. Eventually, he opened his eyes. The off-white, rectangular ceiling tiles of a hospital room greeted him, and he could hear muffled voices from the people in the hallway.
“Hey, man.”
Dave turned his head, which was cushioned by a thick pillow. Harris and Moreen sat next to his bed.
“How long—” Dave coughed, his throat scratchy. “How long have I been out?”
“A couple hours.” Harris tried to smile, but it didn’t quite stick. “Which really isn’t enough. You should get back to sleep.”
Sleep sounded nice. Dave’s head felt cloudy, and his limbs were heavy and numb. But something nagged at him. He was forgetting something, or there was something he needed to do and….
He jerked up. “They’re working together. Blueblood, the Black Valentine, and—” Continue reading
