Hal's eyes shot open in an instant. He gasped for air, his heart exploding in his chest. He shot upright, and that's when he noticed that something was attached to his head.
Hal lifted his hands, which were shaking violently, and tugged at the thick chords that were sticking from his temples.
A small, childlike whimper escaped his lips as he pulled on them. They seemed to be glued to his skin, but he pulled at them until they finally ripped off.
Hal looked around, his breathing erratic and painful. Waves of excruciating pain ripped through his entire body, causing him to nearly black out again. He was covered in blood and bruises, his head was on fire, and he knew he had several broken ribs from the terrible pain he felt in his chest and sides. As he examined himself further, though, he found no traces of the stab wound from the Skitter. It had disappeared.
His weary, frightened eyes looked up slowly, inspecting the room he was in. He was in a dark space, the walls glowing in certain areas. He heard steam rising from a machine somewhere behind him. It seemed like he was in a factory.
Hal knew better, though. He knew where he was. He was still in the Espheni ship. They had never escaped. They had never gotten out into that field.
Hal looked around quickly, searching for his father, or Maggie, even Pope. But he found he was completely alone.
Hal felt a thick cloud of confusion settle around him. His breathing became heavier and more frightened. He jumped off the table he was resting on, nearly collapsing as he found his legs to be incredibly weak and sore.
Hal gripped the edge of the table for support and turned in every direction, hoping to find someone, anyone.
And he did. As Hal turned around, he found her stepping out from behind an unusual machine, grinning wildly.
"Hello, Hal. It's good to see you up." Karen spoke, stepping closer to him.
Hal nearly threw up as the fear and confusion consumed him. He had no idea what was real. Was this another dream? Where was everyone else? What had happened?
Hal was suddenly overcome with anger and desperation. He rushed Karen, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, and he slammed her against the machine as hard as he could, yelling out as he did.
"What…" Hal stopped, trying to catch his breath. "What's… happening…?" His voice rung with desperation and fear. This made Karen's grin widen even more.
"You never woke up, Hal." Her voice was sadistic. She enjoyed seeing him so frightened and pained.
"What are you talking about?" Hal didn't move away from Karen, or yell at her, but instead waited for her to respond. He seemed to almost be in shock he was so calm now.
"You never woke up, after the explosion at the campsite. Everything you experienced after that was a dream, Hal. A wonderful, beautiful dream." She sneered at him, her eyes gleaming with something dark and evil.
Hal dropped his hands from her shirt now, stumbling back away from her. He tried to swallow, but found he couldn't.
"Until now, of course." Karen continued casually. "But I bet it felt real, didn't it? The pain, the blood, the screams. Your brother's death."
Hal was practically hyperventilating now, the pain in his chest and head increasing greatly. He began to feel it all again, reliving each and every horrifying moment. It was overwhelming, and Hal felt himself about to break completely.
"I thought that was a nice touch, really. Very creative. But it did not have the outcome I had hoped for." Karen stepped towards Hal now, her expression deadly.
Hal continued to stumble back, unable to keep the fear from surfacing. Karen's face would haunt him for the rest of his short life.
"All you had to do was tell me what I needed to know. It was simple, but you made it complicated. I took you for a purpose, Hal. And you failed to serve that purpose. So now, I'll have to get what I need some other way." She cornered him now, her face only inches from his.
Hal looked down at his feet, hoping to avoid her haunting stare. And as he did, he now noticed the staff in her hands. The one from his dreams. The one that he had thought caused such pain, the one he thought left Maggie nearly dead.
Hal looked up at Karen, his eyes almost pleading with her.
She smiled at her, her eyes relentless.
Karen jabbed the stick into Hal's stomach as hard as she could. Hal screamed in agony, falling to his knees, as the unbearably familiar pain shredded at his body.
Karen removed the stick, laughing easily. She looked at Hal in disgust as he knelt on the ground, coughing from the pain.
"You're pathetic, Hal. But you still might be able to serve some sort of purpose to us. I want you to pass a message on to that arrogant father of yours."
Hal looked up at her now, his expression one of pure hatred and disdain. He was breathing heavily, and in an amazing amount of pain, but he managed to sneer at her, his teeth coated in blood.
Karen knelt down next to Hal, and put her face right next to his ear so he would hear her clearly.
"Tell Tom Mason… That we're coming for the 2nd Massachusetts. And we're coming for blood."
Hal stumbled down the damp street slowly. He barely had the strength to lift them.
It was almost sunset now, the grey clouds parted enough to reveal the beautiful pink haze in the sky. Hal found no beauty in it.
Hal could focus on nothing but the agonizing pain as his tired feet dragged endlessly on, carrying him towards the unknown.
He had been walking for hours without a break. His body was begging him to rest, but Hal refused to stop. He didn't feel he deserved rest, and he had no desire to stop.
Hal had no idea if he was headed towards the rest of his group or not. He was wandering aimlessly, hoping he might stumble across them. But a part of him hoped he was going the wrong way. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing everyone again, after everything he had been through.
Hal found himself unable to walk anymore now, his legs giving out beneath him. He crashed to the ground painfully, and he gasped as his chest slammed against a rock. He felt his ribs screaming at him, and he closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears from spilling.
Hal lay there in the street for several long moments, his eyes squeezed shut, the memories of his time with Karen flooding his mind.
The cold table, all the blood and agony, Maggie's screams, Matt crying out, Ben. Hal felt a sob rise to his lips, and he let it escape. Soon, his whole body was racking with violent sobs, his chest begging him to stop, but his heart wouldn't let him.
He wept for hours, unable to stop. His mind and body were in such terrible pain that he couldn't handle it. Hal slammed his hands down on the asphalt angrily, screaming in anger.
Hal felt his sobs becoming weaker now, and as they did, he became aware of something cold and hard beneath his hand.
Hal forced himself to sit up, finding he was even weaker now. He picked up the cold object and examined it closely. It was a ripped piece of car metal. The edges of it were razor-sharp, and Hal could see crusted blood splattered on the center of it.
He gripped it tightly in his hand, fighting the urge to scream out. Hal felt the metal tear into his hand, and he squeezed it harder, forcing it to cut deeper.
After a few moments, Hal dropped the shard of metal. His hands were shaking and covered in sticky blood. The gash on his palm was extremely deep and bleeding profusely.
Hal managed to stand. His shaking legs threatened to cave again, but he forced himself to step forward. He moved slowly, his body even more pained and weak than before. But he didn't stop this time. Hal had to get back to his family, to the 2nd Mass, despite his strong fears and the overwhelming agony he felt.
Hal had to warn them.
Hal had somehow walked through the night without stopping once. He was more exhausted than he ever thought possible, and his body ached down to the bones.
He wasn't sure where he was, which direction he was headed in, or how long he had been gone exactly. Hal was consumed in a world of confusion, terror, exhaustion, and agony.
It was sometime mid-morning when he heard the voice, and he almost believed it to be his imagination.
"Hal?!" Hal turned around, stiffly, and as he did, he found Weaver, Pope, Tector, and his father emerging from an alleyway.
"Hal!" His father ran to him as quickly as his legs would carry him. Hal remained where he stood, unable to move.
Tom reached Hal, his expression a mixture of pain, relief, sadness, concern, and confusion.
"Hal..." His father whispered, examining him closely. Tom felt his heart sink deep into his stomach as he took in the sight of his boy.
Hal was soaked in blood. His shirt was half torn from his body, exposing his stomach and what appeared to be a terrible burn on his abdomen. His face was pale, sickly, and contorted into an expression of pure agony and fear. He was covered in various bruises and cuts, some deep, some only scratches. He appeared to be thinner, and so weak he was about to collapse. His eyes were hollow heavily shadowed with dark, black circles of exhaustion. His hands were shaking terribly at his sides, and one was thickly coated in blood.
Hal remained silent as the rest of the group approached them. He watched his father silently, his breathing unsteady.
"Jesus, what the hell happened to you?" Pope scoffed, looking Hal over quickly.
Hal's eyes flicked to Pope, who caught his glance. As Pope looked into Hal's eyes, he saw something he could never unsee. He saw, in Hal Mason's eyes, the darkness and pain that only hell could bring.
"Hal?" Hal's eyes shot over to the alleyway once more, and he lost what little control he had left.
Ben slowly appeared before him, his face expressing deep concern and fear as he saw the state his brother was in.
As Ben walked closer, Hal let a small whimper pass his bloody lips. His trembling legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his knees. He felt bile rise into his aching throat, and he tried to turn away as it poured from his mouth.
He knelt there, gagging and coughing weakly, failing to acknowledge his father and Captain Weaver kneeling beside him as they watched helplessly.
Hal stayed like this for a long time, fighting the sick feeling in his stomach. When he finally looked up, he found everyone watching him with extreme concern on their tired faces. Even Pope looked upset at the sight of Hal.
"Hal, what happened?" The fear in Tom's voice was clear, and it made Hal feel even worse.
Hal opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't control his breathing long enough to reply.
After what felt like an eternity, he managed to speak, his voice so strained and hoarse that his words were almost undecipherable.
"How long...?" He looked at his father helplessly, his pale face twisted into terrible pain.
"Hal, you've been gone for almost three weeks." Tom's voice was soft and shaky, and his eyes showed the pain he was feeling.
A weak cry escaped his mouth, and he closed his eyes, finding it difficult to open them again.
"Hal, what happened to you?" Tom put a hand to Hal's face gently, and nearly cried when his son flinched at his touch.
"They're coming. They're coming." Hal mumbled, ignoring his father's questions. His breathing worsened, and his entire body began to shake.
"Who's coming, Hal?" Tom looked back at Weaver, both of their faces mirroring concern.
Hal grabbed Tom by the collar, his eyes and voice filled with a fearful desperation. He was shaking uncontrollably now.
"Dad. I didn't keep them safe." Hal's voice was little more than a whimper, and tears began to spill down his cheeks quickly.
"Who, son? Who didn't you keep safe?" Tom was having a hard time keeping his emotions under control as he watched Hal, his mind was racing with thoughts of what could have happened to him to hurt him so badly.
Hal gripped on to Tom's collar as if he would drift away if he let go. He was choking on sobs, and he was barely able to stay upright.
"Matt. And... Ben." Ben's name came out as a weak sob, and Hal's eyes closed tightly as he said it. He seemed to have forgotten that Ben was right in front of him, unharmed and healthy.
"Hal, Ben's here. He's safe. So is Matt. We're going to get you back to camp, okay? Stand up, Hal. We have to get you back to camp." Tom tried to make his voice firm and strong, but he was clearly shaken up. He tried to pry Hal's hands from his shirt so he could stand, but Hal's grip only tightened and his eyes shot open, filled with such pain that Tom couldn't bear to look.
"I watched Ben die, Dad. I watched him die, right in front of me. And I did nothing. I let my brother..." Hal's trembling voice drifted off, his face turning a ghostly white. His bloodshot eyes glazed over slightly, and he seemed to sink into some sort of shocked state as he recalled the memory of watching his little brother die before his eyes. His hands slowly slid from Tom's shirt, and his eyes fluttered shut.
The last thing Hal heard was Pope.
"Grab him!"
Then the darkness Hal had become so familiar with settled comfortably around him once more, suffocating the memories and pain temporarily.