Categories > Original > Fantasy

The Shadows - Chapter Three

by DO_or_DIE 0 reviews

A man goes around and he is trying to find his past. He knows it, but he yet he doesn't. His travels lead him into danger but he has one goal: find his family or what is left of it.

Category: Fantasy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Fantasy,Sci-fi - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2019-04-25 - 1620 words - Complete

He came to and couldn’t move anything. Belts and other strong makeshift restraints bound him to a metal chair. He could flex his fingers, straightening them and then gently clenched them. He straightened them again to see blood on his nails and his hands began to shake.
“Easy, buddy. Don’t try moving just yet.” someone said. The words were faint even though the person was only a foot away and their image was blurry as well. He groaned and shuddered, the restraints biting against his bare skin. It didn’t hurt but he felt it.
He felt the pain crawling under his layers of skin, barely held back by some drug that muddled his senses and made it hard to think straight. He blinked, trying to concentrate on the stranger in front of him.
“Guys, he’s awake!” they said.
“Already? It was supposed to keep him under for a few more hours.” called another voice. “Should we give him another dose to be safe?”
“Where am I?” the man muttered. “What did you do to me?”
“You’re safe. We gave you a sedative but it should have kept you under for a bit longer than it actually did.” the person said. “You weren’t having a seizure but it was like one. We’ve called the hospital and they are on their way. You’re going to be fine. Just hold in a little bit longer.”
“Hospital? I’m fine. I just-”
“You are going anyway. You’re injured and we can’t help you recover the way people at the hospital can.” the person said firmly. “You’re going and that’s final. Don’t try to argue. You’re not in any condition to.”
The man knew they were correct about that. He was feeling his energy drain from him just because he was making an effort to talk to someone. His frame sagged and he leaned on the restraints as his vision swam. His stomach felt uneasy and he was glad he hadn’t eaten for a while or else he could have thrown it up.
“Zarytron! I might need your help! This guy doesn’t look too good. I think he’s sick or something.” the person called out.
“What makes you think that? Oh. That’s why.” Tron said. “The ambulance called. They’re only five minutes away and we should keep him awake until they show up.”
The man’s nerves were on fire and his muscles burned in pain he couldn’t contain. His back arched and his neck muscles went tense as he groaned loudly and hung his head. His nails dug into the wounds they had already made and blood dripped from his fingertips.
His vision blurred and flickered, body straining against the restraints, breath short and shallow. The five minutes seemed to be an hour before men ran into the room, talking loudly and removing him from the restraints. His body stiffened as they tried to get him to lay down on a stretcher and he screamed as the pain wrecked chaos on his body and conscious.
They struggled to keep him still but was able to strap him down tightly before they got him into a large truck. He struggled against them, screaming and cursing at them before they got a mask over his mouth and nose. They turned on a tank that contained a type of gas.
He struggled to get the mask off, to not breath the gas in. Slowly, his vision blurred and dimmed as the gas did its job and he slipped from consciousness, curses, and oaths on his tongue.
He woke with a sheet of sweat over his skin. He panted as pain still penetrated his skin and down to his bones. There were new restraints and he still wore his armor. He lay in a bed that had metal bars on the outline so it was easier to put on the restraints and keep him in place. At the foot of the bed, several men in white outfits, doctors, stood arguing.
“We have tried. It’s impossible to remove the armor.” one said.
“No, it’s not. It has to come off somehow.” argued a second. “If it can’t come off by hand, we’ll just cut it off of him.”
“And risk injuring him further? It might be the armor that only can be removed by the one who owns it.” said a third. “Technology has advanced warfare in ways we can't imagine or know.”
“Well, I doubt he’ll just take it off if we ask him!” shouted the second one.
“Not so loud! He might wake up and it’s too soon.” hushed the third.
The man groaned and pulled on his right arms restraint. His voice was caught in his throat as he fought back tears and his fear.
“He’s awake.” the first said and the second doctor walked up to him.
“No! Get away from me!” he said, his voice breaking as he was helpless against anything they wished to do to him. The doctor recoiled, worried for the man’s condition and also for his safety.
“You need to calm down!” ordered the third doctor. “Stop struggling and listen!”
The doctor grabbed him by the throat and applied full force. “Shut up and stop struggling! If you stop and listen, you’ll be told all you want to know!”
The man writhed under the doctor’s grip and his throat was starting to be crushed. He let out a gurgle as he tried to breath and the doctor released him in surprise and horror at what he had done. The man’s breath was ragged and shallow as he struggled to breathe again.
“I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean what I did.” the doctor stammered.
“Get away from me!” the man cried. “Get away!”
The doctor recoiled at the man’s voice and watched as the man began to cry and struggle against the leather restraints that held him down.
“Please,” he begged. “Let me go, please.”
“We can’t. We’re under orders from the military.” informed the first doctor. “We can’t let you go until they order us to.”
The man stopped and lay still in the bed as silent sobs shook his shattered body. His nails dug into his palms cutting the skin and drawing more blood which stained the sheets under him.
He heard a door open but didn’t look up as people walked in. “Doctors, how is he? Any change on our guest’s condition?” a thickly accented voice asked.
“He’s awake, sir. Awake but mentally disturbed slightly.” informed a doctor. “He’s scared as well.”
“Why should he be scared? We are trying to help him recover,” they said. “Have you done anything against him that could provoke this reaction?”
“Sir, you can ask him if you wish. He is awake and fully conscious.” a second doctor offered.
“Then leave us so I can talk to him in peace.” dismissed the voice. The man heard the door open and close as the doctors vacated the room, leaving him alone with the stranger, which he was helpless if he needed to defend himself as he had needed with one of the doctors.
He had stopped crying at this time, but still shook from his uneven breathes. The stranger walked into view. They wore a deep navy colored uniform, symbolizing their rank and their great importance. With short cropped blonde hair and steel colored eyes, he had a kind but firm appearance. On their right pocket, there was a small brass name-tag that read ‘Sergeant Smythe’ in neat small letters. He placed a firm hand on the man’s shoulder but was gentle as he did so.
“I know you’re awake and you can understand me. So listen,” they said. “My name is Sergeant Smythe. You’re in a military hospital because a regular one couldn’t take care of you currently. You’re scared, but of what? I won’t hurt you if you don’t tell me. What are you scared of?”
“My condition,” he said. “Where am I? Where am I exactly?”
“You’re in the emergency room and on life support.” the sergeant said softly.
“What’s wrong with me? Why am I in restraints?”
“You’re experiencing malnutrition, heat exhaustion, severe internal bleeding, trauma, and you had a seizure on the ambulance when they were transporting you here,” he explained. “The restraints are if you have another one. Everyone is surprised you’re still alive at all.”
The man’s words sank in slowly. It scared him even more. Trauma. Seizure. Internal bleeding.
“You may even develop PTSD from this,” he added.
"I'll have PTSD again?" he said, nearly in shock.
"You already have it for something else?" The Sergeant looked worried at this information. "For what?"
"Murder. Wars. Suicides. Flash battles." the man recounted. "Attempted murders and assassinations of my friends, family, and of myself."
"So you're famous somehow, but the computers say that you don't exist. You aren't real, let alone an actual human. Says you are only three percent human. The rest of your DNA is a complete mystery and it is annoying the doctors, scientists, forensics, and my superior officers."
"So they sent you to unravel the mystery." the man said softly.
"The old-fashioned way. Questions and answers. Anyway possible is what they told me." he said. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"If I tell you, I might be killed by your superiors." the man said. "They'll kill me."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you," he replied. "Neither do you."
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