Disclaimer: I do not own Falling Skies
Chapter 1
Hal Mason struggled to stay awake. They had sedated him, trying to push him back under the hazy veil of sleep. Why? His eyes searched the bland infirmary of Charleston's base until he found the blurry face of his father looking over him with chilled concern in dark eyes. A sensation of revulsion flared in Hal's head, and he jerked away from his father, not wanting to look at him.
In a very small corner of his mind, Hal knew something was wrong. Very wrong. But what? He wanted to tell them, tell them about the cold feeling that would slither down his back and writhe in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to tell them, but they wanted the darkness to overcome him instead.
"Anne…" Hal's sluggish tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed hard, attempting to vanquish the thick saliva that clamped his mouth shut.
Hal felt a cool hand on his forehead, and he tried to flinch away but his muscles were too heavy, too slow…He was weak and vulnerable. And he hated it.
"I'm right here, Hal," he heard her say soothingly. Soft hair fell into his eyes causing his eyelashes to flutter in confused irritation.
"It's okay, Son. You can sleep. It's okay," his father said to him, gripping his hand.
Hal wanted so badly to pull his hand away, but he couldn't. His body was stiff, and he was slipping. His vision blackened, and he inhaled sharply widening his eyes. He had just woken up, woken up from a nightmare, to tell them. Why would he want to return down into the depths, where he had no control? Why wouldn't they let him tell them?
He couldn't fend it off any longer. The darkness claimed him, and his eyes fell shut.