III. Cold Snake Memory Charm
I reach for the bottom of the bed, but I can’t quite reach far enough. The droning in my mind continues, a heartbeat, a drum beat, a monitor buzzing in the background. I push myself until I stumble forward just slightly and grip the fabric. I pull at it, and I pull until it catches and I pull myself forward, pushing my knees underneath me and sitting up.
There’s someone in the bed. No clothes, but white bandages are wrapped around his hands and arms, with a heavy blindfold over his eyes. He has red hair, about a foot shorter than me. I know him. I’ve seen him once. Just once.
He was on his knees. My roommate John was dating him.
I push my feet beneath me, trying to stand up, and grab the bed sheets to steady myself.
“Gus,” I say, “Gus? Can you hear me? Gus?”
I hear shouting, but the sounds are more like roars, loud inhuman growls emanating from the hallway behind me. They know I’ve found him. They know I’m close to winning. They know–they know–what do they know?
There are wires running into his arm. I have to get them out to get him out, but the people are behind us, all around us. How could we get anywhere?
There’s a window on the other side of the bed. I extend my hand toward it, twisting my thoughts as I imagine the glass bowing outwards, pushed to its breaking point, and shattering. But even though I feel the motion in my mind, it doesn’t manifest.
I turn toward the small rolling cart hooked up to some kind of bag dripping into his arm and try to move it. I wave my hand futilely, sliding down the bed just a little as I try harder, but it doesn’t go anywhere.
My powers are gone. They’re gone. All gone.
NEXT PART: Sedimentary