Boneyards: 1: Open Your Eyes

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My eyes cracked open. Even though I was sweating beads, a chill ran through me with the power of winter gusts. I shivered.

A feverish feeling swept the last bit of severe grog out of me; I was left with confusion and pain, specifically in my left foot. It throbbed, the small amount of excess blood I had running to the spot in perfect step with my heartbeat. Thro-ob, thro-ob, thro-ob.

I tried to sit up to examine whatever it was that hurt so bad, but--

Wait.

I'm on a bed.

That changes everything.

Last time I woke up, I was in an old, rattling car. All I could hear was the moans of other people beside me. This was silent. No, there wasn't even that eerie sound from the walls creaking or crickets chirping. This was perfect silence. It magnified my every movement to precision, making every single painful inch horrible.

I tried to sit up again.

This time, I didn't stop. I felt sheets rumple on top of me, little billows of cotton rolled up against my gaunt body. I was so thin. I hadn't eaten since I closed my eyes.

I pulled my body up as far as I could go, my muscles pulling out, stretching. They were sore, but this felt good. It was as if I was standing up off a bench, or getting out of a car, after staying there for a long time. My whole body was aching to be used.

I found that I was moving abnormally slow. I kept noticing little things about my whereabouts, things like the fact that my mattress was amazingly comfortable and that a part of me was reluctant to fully wake up. It would have been bliss, sitting here, if not for the fact that I was, quite frankly, bleeding from the shin down and severely malnourished. Figures.

My right foot found the edge of the bed. I tenderly nudged the left one towards the edge, also, but found that it wouldn't move more than about half an inch at a time without pain shooting up my leg; it was death stabbing me with his thin, sharp dagger repetitively, and the pain just became numbing. Until I moved it again.

"Ouch." Whoa. My voice was almost... normal. If it wasn't for the fact that I needed water and was extremely thirsty...

Water. I need water.

The determination to actually get out of bed became a necessity.. I willfully brought my leg all the way over to the edge, then stopped. I looked back at the warm, soft sheets. "No. You're getting up. All the way," I said to myself, crunching my eyebrows low on my forehead, the stubborn girl I was.

The sheets were white. Well, mostly white. There was a dark streak of blood that led all the way to the edge. Blood had dried on my shin; most of it was all scab. I cringed, locking my eyes shut and forcing myself to think about water, I needed water.

I opened my eyes again. This time, they were adjusted to the darkness better. I began to see that I was in a room. A soundproof room. A room that didn't have any obvious doors. It had a table in the middle, covered with all kinds of medicines and buttons and who knows what. I just wanted water.

Over to the other side of the room was a wheelchair. Perfect for my scenario, this one had a foot-rest and, it looked like, bandages for cuts. That was it. I needed that wheelchair. I needed water. I needed to get up.

My hands found hold on the side of the bed, legs swinging over swiftly, willfully. I pushed away from the soft sheets and grabbed hold on the lamptable next to me. I grasped at air until I found a lamp, reaching for any sign of a switch. I found it, and started to press it--

"No."

I jerked my hand back. "God?"

"No. Just... J... Call me Joe."

"Oh," I replied, "Joe?"

"Sure." My eyes darted around. There wasn't anyone in the room, there was just a voice. A very... sturdy voice. Almost comforting, but too alien to be sure. At this time, any voice would have been a threat and a friend to my ears.

"Okay, then. Why can't I turn the light on?"

"Because. It hurts. Trust me."

"Oh. Why should I trust you? You're... you're Joe. The invisible man who, for all I know, has me locked in a door-less room with nothing but a whole bunch of who-knows-what, plus no water and a wheelchair that isn't accessible!"

"Because."

"Mmhhmm. Sure." I was irritable. And I really needed the help, but... I needed water.

"Trust me."

I sighed and threw my hands up in the air, like it would emphasize my point. "Is that all you're going to say? I kind of need help."

"I noticed. Just sit still and be quiet. I'll be there soon."

"You're not here already?"

"No."

"Well then."

"I'm... I'm actually a hundred and two miles above you."

This was a shocker. But it made perfect sense. That explained the eerie silence, the dark room, the secluded feeling of it all. I was underground. "Hurry, then. I'm bleeding and starving to death. You're Joe... the... the one who's going to save Hariett Joven. Right?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

And with that, I turned back to my sheets and passed out. Darkness washed through me again, the pain numbed and my hunger eating my insides. It was enough to kill a girl. But not Hariett Joven. No, not me.

I was going to do this.

I needed water, and I was going to get it, one way or another.

One last word escaped my lips before silence broke my rationality to the earsplitting screams in my dreams.

"Hurry."