A writing exercise to try and get me out of a funk. It had mixed results.
-o-o-o-
Dust.
Dirt.
Fumes.
She coughed, her fingers scraping concrete. There was a gas leak somewhere.
Darkness.
She scrunched her eyes closed and grit bit into her corneas.
She clung to the sensation.
Don't cry.
Don't panic.
But her insides were screaming.
Somewhere a liquid dripped.
It teased her heartbeat.
Time.
Time blurred in terror and she faded out only to be woken by the crash of concrete on concrete.
It shook her.
Was this it? Was all going to come down on her? Was her office finally going to kill her after all these years?
But then there was a voice.
The voice of an angel.
Maybe she was already dead.
"This is International Rescue, can you hear me?"
More cracking concrete, the clash of steel on steel and a hiss.
A repeated hiss.
She opened her mouth, but her throat was full of dust. She had no voice.
"I repeat, this is International Rescue, can you hear me?"
I can hear you. Please save me.
Please.
God, please.
Hiss. Hiss. Crash.
Light lit her up as a mechanical claw lifted the slab of concrete hiding her and threw it away.
Away.
Away.
A man.
Green.
Yellow.
Blue.
Like the sky.
"Life sign located, John."
She couldn't do anything but stare.
A helmet reflected the light hiding the rescuer's face, but he sounded male.
Man.
Knight in shining armour.
Angel.
Save me.
He bore claws and he hissed as he moved. Chunks of concrete meant nothing to him. Metal and cables. Boots. Legs. Biceps.
Voice.
"Can you hear me?" The helmet was bending towards her, the claws held to his sides.
She opened her mouth again.
Still no sound.
"Okay, let's check you out." His arms slid from the claws, their metal falling slack. "Gordon will be here in a moment with a stretcher."
His hand came up holding a yellow light.
She flinched.
Please save me.
He scanned her.
The helmet dipped to examine the device. "You're going to be okay once we remove that chunk of concrete pinning your legs." A hidden breath. "We are going to get you out and to a hospital as quickly and safely as possible. Do you understand?"
She managed a nod.
"That's better." There was a lightness to his voice as if he was smiling. His hand reached out and gently gripped her shoulder. "We'll get you out."
She managed another nod.
A tear ran down her cheek.
There was a scuffle of feet on rubble and a second man appeared. He was dragging a hoverstretcher and medical kit.
He was all yellow and blue.
The two men exchanged words and the first put back on his claws. "Gordon is going to give you some pain relief. Do you have any allergies?"
She blinked and shook her head.
Yellow man murmured reassurances and cut off her sleeve.
A needle passed through her skin, but her body didn't belong to her.
Medical tape.
She hated medical tape.
Those giant claws rose above her.
Pick me up.
Take me away.
Giant claws.
The weight on her legs shifted and there was a blinding rage of pain.
The world whited out and she struggled to draw in breath.
Gentle hands.
Gentle hands.
Gentle words.
She was moving.
Soft.
Soft.
"John, we're mobile. Returning to Thunderbird Two."
She opened her eyes to sky.
Beautiful blue sky. Like the man with the claws.
Claws.
Dark green swallowed her whole.
Time dipped out and suddenly she was fastened into a gurney.
"Chicago Air Control, this is Thunderbird Two requesting permission to land at Chicago Medicine. Emergency protocol."
"Roger that, Thunderbird Two, permission granted. You still owe me that autograph, Virgil."
A snort. "And you owe me a beer, Manny. I haven't received an invite recently."
Her stomach dropped out as the bed beneath her dipped towards Earth.
"Anytime, Virgil. You can park your green machine in my carpark. The boss won't mind."
"Where's my invite?" Another voice. Yellow man.
"Virgil, is that your co-pilot? The one who hit on my sister?"
Another snort. "Manny, Gordon promises never to do that again. Don't you, Gordon."
"I couldn't help myself! She's a marine biologist. What was I supposed to do?"
Marine biologist.
A roar she hadn't acknowledged changed pitch and her bed slowed. A clunk and the craft around her settled.
The two men were still talking, but she lost track of what they were saying.
A dark head appeared over her.
Black hair.
Soft, brown eyes.
"Hey, we're at the hospital. You'll be in good hands before you know it."
Hands.
She reached out one and grabbed his.
Those eyes widened, but he didn't pull away.
"Thank you." Rasping breath. "Thank you, angel."
Wide, soft, brown eyes.
"Thank you."
-o-o-o-
