Page 72 of Dissent (The Dissenter Saga #1)

T he funny thing about dying is you don’t feel a thing.

You can tell that your body is broken, or feel the sensation of something digging into your flesh, piercing through you.

But the pain never comes. Everything fades away, and all that is left is white.

That’s it. Just white. There’s no sorrow, no hate, no love. Just white…and everything’s empty.

I never contemplated what dying would be like.

My brain only ever thought of surviving, of living to see another day no matter what.

And for me, though I hated to admit it, the solution was always to run.

Run and never look back. Sometimes the running was physical, my legs carrying me as fast as they could.

Sometimes it was mental, like when Raúl would lecture me about how I was a disappointment, my brain tuning him out as best as possible to spare my self-esteem.

Sometimes it was emotional, refusing to accept a truth that hurt too much to embrace. I always ran. It was how I survived.

I suppose it was fitting, then, that when I finally chose not to run anymore, to ignore the instinct that had worked for years to preserve my life, I’d die.

It really wasn’t so bad. Kind of nice, really, because I wasn’t in pain anymore. And my memories were nothing but that, memories. They meant nothing.

It was over.

I don’t know how I knew this, but I knew all I had to do was give in to the white. It would be easy. Just give in to the nothingness…enjoy the absence of all my troubles. Just disappear.

I wanted to.

I was ready for it. I tried to take in a deep breath, to let it all go on the long exhale. But I couldn’t.

A thought hit me, colliding with the desire to embrace the white, and it pushed back.

There was still work to do. There were still people I loved that needed saving.

There were still people who deserved freedom, who deserved the opportunity to make their own choices.

And there was still Raúl. Raúl had to be stopped.

His name entering my consciousness sent a wave of emotions I couldn’t ignore, like emotional veins that webbed through my senses, carrying all of it back.

Pain, anger, hate, disappointment. Each one stung as it spread like a plague within me.

And then the memories evolved. Chase’s green eyes.

Jacob’s loyalty. Edith’s laugh. Chelsea’s sacrifice.

Wes’s strength. Matias’s smile. Then the memories grew, unfolding, blooming to reveal a new cascade of emotions. Joy, excitement, acceptance, hope…love.

It wasn’t time to go yet. I couldn’t fold into the nothingness, not right now. Not yet. I had to go back. I had to push through. I had to fight.

As my mind embraced the memories, I suddenly realized the desire to live. And I clung to it, desperate, pulling on it, willing the desire to grow. I had to live.

Then the surrounding whiteness brightened, rising around me. And it consumed me whole.

***

Beep…beep…beep…

The sound knocked gently on my consciousness, urging it to grow.

Beep…beep…beep…

It wasn’t white anymore, but dark. Dark like the deep blackness of the basement.

Beep…beep…beep…

Ache. It was the first thing that came back to me. A deep ache all over my body. But it was faint, a dullness about it that told me it was old.

Beep…beep…beep…

An urge to move came over me, and I tried, but everything felt heavy, like when you come out of a deep sleep. I shifted, or at least I thought I did.

Beep…beep…beep…

I tried again, and this time, I was sure I moved something. Sensations of warmth were slowly starting to envelope me. I wiggled something else this time…my toes. I was aware of my toes. And then my fingers.

Beep…beep…beep…

As I tried to move something bigger, my mind flooded memories back to me, hitting me like a runaway train. The basement, Jacob, the gateway, a car, explosions…

Beep…beep…beep…

Fire, dead bodies, bombs, gunfire…

Beep…beep…beep…

A katana, Telvian soldiers, Edith lying motionless…

Beep…beep…beep …

Matias fighting for his life, Wes carrying me, Chelsea rocking herself…

Beep…beep…beep …

The rooftop, Jacob’s smile, a gunshot.

Beep…beep…beep…

Falling backwards, the sensation of my flesh being torn apart, death.

My eyes flew open as I inhaled sharply, my hands flying to my stomach where I remembered feeling the bullet dive deep into my body. But the sudden movement sent a sharp pain up my left arm, causing me to yelp.

“No, no, no! Easy now.”

The voice startled me as I turned my head toward it. A woman wearing a white shirt and pants with a white hat bearing a red cross was at my side. She gave me a warm smile as she placed a gentle hand on me, pushing me to lower my left arm.

“Stay calm, and try not to move this arm. You sprained your shoulder.” She looked away, turning to face the monitor next to me. I realized this was the thing making all that incessant beeping. She looked at me again. “Do you remember your name?”

“What?” I scanned my surroundings. I was in a bed, and the room I was in was white and sterile looking. A metal sink was in the corner, and a white dresser with a small table and two chairs sat on the opposite side.

“Your name. Can you tell me your name?”

I looked back at her. “Mara. My name’s Mara.” I noticed beside her was a stand with two IV bags hanging from it, tubes going down, curving up onto the bed, and attached to a needle nestled in the crook of my arm. “Where am I? What happened?”

The woman gave me a reassuring smile, putting a hand to my forehead, as though she were checking to see if I was feverish.

“My name’s Alma. I’m your nurse.” Pleased, she drew her hand back and walked over to the foot of my bed, pulling out a tablet that she started typing into.

“As for where you are, you’re in a hospital in the North. ”

“The North?” How? What happened? I must have spoken the latter aloud because the nurse responded.

“I don’t really know. I’m just medical staff. But from what I’ve been told, you almost died. I don’t know what you were doing, but you showed up with quite a few injuries.”

My mind raced as I pulled the memories up one by one, and then I remembered the rooftop. “I died?”

She put the tablet back down in its holder hanging from the bed and crossed her arms. “Sort of. You slipped on us a few times, but we were able to keep you here. That gunshot wound was no joke. You lost a lot of blood, not to mention you had an infection starting on all of those…” She faltered, her nose wrinkling before she managed a relaxed expression on her face once more. “Those marks on your back.”

I barely noticed her struggle. I just kept thinking about the fact that I almost died. That someone had shot me. “Am I going to be okay?”

She waved me off now, walking to the other side of my bed to check a different set of monitors.

“You’re going to be fine now that you’re awake.

You’ve been healing well…quickly, actually.

But it’s going to be a lot of rest for you.

You’re just so lucky that the gunshot missed all of your organs. It just flew through you.”

I shook my head, everything feeling foggy. “You said that I’ll be fine now that I’m awake. What does that mean?”

She stopped fiddling and turned to face me. She gave me another smile, but it felt fake, like she just wanted to keep me from freaking out. “You’ve been in a coma—”

“What!”

“Settle down. You lost a lot of blood. The gunshot missed all the important stuff, but it’s still a big injury. And compounded with the rest of your injuries, you ended up in a coma.”

Oh my god.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two weeks.”

“ Two weeks! ”

“Give or take.” She turned around, walking back over to the tablet at the foot of my bed. Picking it up, she started typing into it again.

I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t wrap my brain around any of it. But I shoved it aside. I couldn’t deal with this right now. There was more important stuff to figure out. “What about everyone else?”

“Who?”

“Everyone else?” My voice rose. “You know, Chelsea, Edith, Sasha, Mati—”

“Slow down. I don’t know who you’re talking about. I know there were several of you that came in, but that’s about it. Sorry.”

My heart swelled in agony. I needed to know if they survived. “Do you, do you at least know if the people that came in are okay?”

“They’re all fine. A few of them only stayed in the hospital a few days before going home.”

That made me feel a little better, but I still didn’t know who got out. I had passed out before the chopper ever arrived. Who knows who made it. And Jacob… My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the look on his face. “Do you know if any of them was Jacob?”

“Who?”

“Jacob? Were any of the other patients him?”

“Hunny, I don’t know. But try not to worry about it. You need to get some rest.”

“But I have to know if he survived!” I insisted, my voice shrill.

“I need you to calm down, or I’m going to have to sedate you.

” We stared at each other, and I knew I was giving her the stink eye.

She sighed, “Look, I don’t know the answer to your question, but I’ll see what I can find out for you, okay?

In the meantime, I’ve messaged President De’vor.

She wanted to be informed the moment you woke up. ”

I slumped back into the pillow behind me.

So Sasha had survived. That was one person off my list. But now I was left wondering about everyone else.

I glanced back up at Alma, and then reluctantly nodded.

I had a feeling it was the best I was going to get, and I had no intention of being sedated, not after finding out I’d been in a coma for two weeks. Damn.

“When can I leave the hospital?”

“Soon. Now that you’re awake, the doctor will want to look you over. Like I said, you’ve been healing well, but he’ll have a better idea of when you can go home.”

Home.

I didn’t have a home anymore. I was officially public enemy number one for Telvia, no doubt. And with the rebel base destroyed, I had no place to go. I worried my bottom lip as that last thought burrowed into my soul. I was officially homeless.

“Now, try to get some rest. I’m sure the doctor will be over soon, and you can ask him your questions.” She walked out, never giving me a chance to utter another word.

The nurse had been right. A short while later, a doctor arrived. After he fussed over me, he shared that I could leave in a few days. When I asked him about my friends, his answer wasn’t any more helpful than Alma’s.

Eventually he left, indicating that he was going to prescribe me some medication to help me heal faster, but added that it would make me sleep, which was why he hadn’t ordered it before since I was in a coma and all.

Shortly after he left, Alma returned with a syringe, which she stuck in the catheter of my IV, injecting its contents.

When I asked her what it was, she just said it was what the doctor ordered.

I didn’t have time to ask her anything else.

As soon as I felt the cool liquid seep into my veins, exhaustion overcame me. Then I was out.