Page 43 of His Curse

I must not have gotten all the way out, which must mean I’m back in the Black Box.

Damn.

I was so close.

My freedom was right there, right at my fingertips, and I thought I'd finally reach it this time.

Fucking Dick.

Bastard just had to go and get involved, and had to come after me again. I'm shocked he didn't kill me, but no less grateful he didn’t. I’m not grateful for Dick in any way at all, though, just the fact that he knows doc would be pissed if I was put down no matter what kind ofshoot to killorder was issued.

At least now I can figure out where I went wrong and try to modify my plan so next time I’ll finally manage to get all the way out. That's the only benefit of waking up in the Black Box. Lots of time to think. Probably at least two months worth after the stunt I pulled.

The sound of metal on metal meets my ears just before I feel light hit my face, a warm light in a bigger beam than what the little slat in the door usually allows.

Which is weird.

The Black Box is light tight and submerges you in total silence, and even when Dick opens the window it doesn’t sound like that, nor is it enough to shine on more than a small patch of my body somewhere. And it's definitely not warm. There aren't any windows anywhere in the main building, not in any place we're allowed to go anyway, so this is kind of bizarre. All of the light at Kentworth Labs is artificial and cold as hell.

Maybe the way things sound and feel right now are left over effects from being shot so many times.

Side effects of a whole hell of a lot of poison and tranqs swimming through my body.

Then another thought occurs to me.

That didn't sound like the opening of the tiny window at all; it wasn't the normal screech and drag of the iron against iron, and even if I was cloudy I’d be able to tell when that window was opened. That’s basically been part of the very minimal soundtrack of my life over the last forty plus years.

Thatsounded more like multiple tiny pieces of metal gliding over a bigger piece.

It sounded like a fucking curtain opening.

And once again, that can’t be right because the only curtains I’ve seen are in the hospital or experimentation lab, and they aren't in front of windows, just divide the rooms in case there are multiple people sharing space. Not thatthatmatters to them either, any privacy we’re awarded comes with a price and the hospital is no exception.

Maybe I'm a little delusional or something.

Maybe I am actually in the hospital portion of the facility and not the Black Box because my injuries are too serious to go right back in without being tended to first.

But still, something isn't quite adding up.

There is no natural light exposure anywhere in the main building and I'm almost positive what I feel, that the light preventing me from opening my eyes, is from the sun itself.

So, I start taking stock.

My entire body aches, it hurts from head to toe, but I can tell the bullets are out. I’m tired and a little queasy, but I’m hungry and that means I’m not as sick as I would be if the bullets were still in my system. Then there are the bandages I can feel covering each wound, and when I shift a little, I can feel more on my feet.

So I keep wiggling around until another red flag goes up in my brain.

I'm covered.

Covered by an actual sheet, and possibly another blanket judging by the weight and warmth pressing down on me, and whatever I'm laying on is way nicer than anything I've been on in years. It's soft and pillowy, more like a cloud covered in cool cotton.

A little more shifting makes me realize my head is actually on a pillow, too, a real one that isn't anything like the vinyl bricks Kentworth gives us.

Ok, I must be dead.

That's the only explanation I can come up with because last I knew I was flying through the yard while guards shot at the Hummer, and if this is where I wound up after that, then I have to be dead.

"How'd last night go?" an unfamiliar female voice whispers in front of me. "Did she do ok?"

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