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Rifts in the Weave
047 - Dawn - October 17, 2020 - Near Nevada, Iowa

047 - Dawn - October 17, 2020 - Near Nevada, Iowa

Her body felt hot, as though it burned from within. She woke with a groan, her eyes refusing to open despite her efforts. Behind her eyelids fireworks bloomed as she tried to sit up. Her mouth tasted like she had been licking pennies. Her ears felt clogged, like someone had stuffed cotton wads deep inside. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. She tried again to sit up, fumbling with numb hands against the surface beneath her as she tried to sit up.

Pain ripped through her, tearing a scream from her mouth. She heard voices, they sounded like they were underwater, wah-wah-wa-wa-wah. Like something from a Charlie Brown special. Adults in the background, speaking words those behind the fourth wall weren’t meant to understand. She strained, lifting one hand, the numb fingers spread as she tried to feel her own face, the skin there numb as well.

Wah-wa-wa-wha-wa-wha-wa.

She opened her mouth, the overwhelming taste of pennies filling her as she tried to speak. A groan escaped her again. She tried once more to sit up and this time the pain ripped consciousness away from her.

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Her body felt hot, as though it burned from within. She woke with a groan, her eyes fluttering open, then squeezing shut as the brilliant light invaded. Behind her eyelids fireworks bloomed as she tried to sit up. Her mouth tasted like she had been sucking on pennies. Her ears were clogged, like someone had filled them with water and then plugged them. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. She tried once more to sit up, fumbling with hands full of pins and needles against whatever surface was beneath her as she tried to sit up.

Pain ripped through her core, tearing a scream from her mouth that made the taste of pennies intensify a thousandfold. She heard voices, muffled and eerie, like ghosts humming in another room. She tried to lift one of her hands, but the arm refused to obey this time.

More far away voices.

Her consciousness fled once more.

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Her body felt hot and stiff, as though it had burned from within. She woke with a groan, her eyes fluttering open and wincing against the brilliant light. Pain bloomed behind her eyes as they tried to adjust to the light, but she kept them open, watering. Her mouth tasted of pennies and when she wiped at her damp chin, her hand came away wet with drool and blood. Her ears felt damp, draining, more blood came away when she rubbed them. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. She used her hands to push herself up to a sitting position, pain screaming through her core again, but duller and more manageable.

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She stifled a scream and spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass beside her. Her amber colored eyes, barely open against the bright sunlight, scanned her surroundings. She lay where she had fallen while they tried to escape the storm. There was a black crater of dead and charred grasses surrounding her and her clothes, what she could see of them anyway, were scorched and soot stained.

She could remember hearing voices the last times she awakened, but she saw no sign of others around her. The more she remembered of the night she was injured, the more she wanted to get up and flee. She knew, without even attempting it, that she wouldn’t be able to stand, much less run away. So she sat, her body slightly rocking as she tried to manage the pain that filled her. Looking at her hands, she could see no signs of injury, but they felt strange, not quite like her own.

“Jes, thank god!” A familiar voice called from behind her. She tried to turn her head, but found sharp lances of pain answered the movement.

“What happened?” She croaked, her voice hoarse and her mouth filling with blood again at the effort. She spat it once more on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Rock asked as he rushed into her field of view. “You should probably lay back down.”

“What happened?” She croaked again before spitting.

“You were struck by the storm.” His blue eyes searched her face, running the fingers of one hand through his already mussed blond hair.

“Bad?” She asked.

Rock nodded wordlessly, offering her a bottle of water. “Pretty bad. We didn’t think you were going to make it. We tried to get an ambulance, but they’re not working. The storm was bad.”

“Mom?”

“She’s okay. We finally convinced her to go home just a little while ago.”

She coughed, spitting blood again before drinking some of the water. It hurt to swallow, but she forced herself. “Hadrian?”

“He’s fine too. You were the only one that got hit. Only one of us anyway. I here there were more in town. Cell networks around here are down, nothing’s working.”

Even frowning hurt, but her brows drew together nonetheless. “Nothing?”

“I think it was like an EMP or something. Nothing works anymore. We borrowed a cart and a couple harness horses from one of your neighbors, Hadrian will be back with it after he drops off your mom.”

She only grunted in response, forcing herself to drink still more water.

“I think we need to prepare.”

She arched a brow, still drinking, despite the pain.

“Easy, kid. Not so fast.” He took the bottle of water away. “I think this is going to get bad, we need to prepare for that.”

“Shitshow.” She croaked, a crooked smile showing bloody teeth.