BREATH . OF . LIFE . ~ { ReGenisis Chronicles Book I }

Chapter Twelve [Part 2/3]: Wakeless In The Waking World

                      -Kate Andersen-

Lucky number six's hand was flying towards my neck, grasping it up and forcing my head into the cold, hard brick wall. I chortled a scream through the crush of my wind pipe. Frantically I kicked against number six, I kept willing my feet to be harder, faster, stronger. Snap, crunch, snap, two of his ribs broke under the impact of my toes. Still it did nothing to his resolve as my body started to convulse without air. I could hear the crackling sounds of bones morphing back together and my eyes widened. I wondered if this was a trait of more Nocturnals than I'd realised, or if it was simply for Scavengers or Ides operatives.

Through the dark doors, the shriek of bending metal ached through our ears. My mind was starting to black out into an oxygen-less void, still I could hear the quivering cry of the poor soul who'd broken free on the other side. In the panic of hearing those noises, number six clamped his hand just a little tighter, everything seemed to make a popping sound in my head and the world blurred into a pitiless black and white movie reel before cutting out entirely.

It wasn't until I felt my heart force itself to beat, my lungs achingly pulling air down through my sore throat that I realised I had died again and come back. My windpipe was setting itself right, that didn't stop the ache. This time instead of just hear water at my ears coming round, I could feel something wet. Barely opening an eyelid, I didn't even register the red surrounding me fully. Relief washed over me, like the heavy waves that had taken me out of this world again, because I could smell rain and I was ok. My eyes closed once more, and I became weightless. As if lifted by nothing but a gentle breeze. It wasn't like being dead. Then again, nothing itself was like being dead.

The breeze carried me out and rested me down against a cool wall. Soft, cold fingers brushed the hair from my face and then the rain went away, as did the gentle wind. I lifted a lid again, watching a black and red silhouette slash through the white halls into an air vent like an artist angrily striking his brush against a blank canvas. But all that was left behind was a slight speckle of rose petals that fell from the gaping vent like blossoms.

I was so tired, head so heavy, it was hard to keep my eyes open as my nose dribbled coppery liquid over my lips and chin. I held my hand up to catch it as it fell, then it stopped, like turning off a tap in my mind. I don't know how long I'd sat there, somewhere far off in another realm. Shock had bottomed out into a state of not realising anything exists, my senses so overloaded they cancelled themselves out and a bubble had formed over my ears. Apart from the taste of my own blood every time I swallowed, I could detect nothing. I didn't even move as a figure drifted past me, angry feet on the ground, straight into the dark doors. He was angry, I realised as my dazed mind came back to reality and I let my hand drop to my side, the blood in it dried.

I could feel it, frustration. Then I could hear it as he started to make phone calls.  The subtle beep of dialling numbers sounding more like using his thumbs to box gloveless. The raspy, deep tenor of his voice becoming strained. A growl under his breath. But my mind wasn't rushing to translate what he was saying. When he walked out through the doors and stood before me, smoke scent finally reaching me through the copper, I slowly pulled my head up to look at him. My eyes not quite focussing on stormy brown eyes.

"It seems you've sustained injuries, Miss Andersen," He offered his hand forward for me to take. I stared at it not quite sure what to do. The vibes I was getting off of him were like being thumped all over, his expression looking like thunder didn't do much to counter the fear I felt swelling within. "I can help you with it, if you'll come with me." He moved his hand forward a little more, pulling his lips up in attempt of a smile, to me it was more a threatening sneer, as if I were the animal in the trap and he the hunter pulling me from it simply to hang me up and skin me.