Metal as cold as ice pressed against his chest. It reminded Tom of that cold pocket of air when they pulled the body on board.

"Take a deep breath," Dr. Keane said. "And another."

Tom's chest expanded but he felt he couldn't breathe. Every inhale left him unfulfilled, like waking up five minutes before your alarm. The more he focused on it, the least likely it seemed possible. He tried again.

Dr. Keane raised his hands to palpate Tom's neck. His fingers rolled where his glands were, pushing into the soft tissue and checking for any inflammation. The fluorescent light flickered above.

"Does this hurt?" Dr. Keane asked.

"No."

"Now for the headache." Dr. Keane grabbed a pen and began taking notes. "Do you feel pressure above your nose bridge?"

"Yes, closer to the center of my forehead." Tom gestured.

"Do your eyes feel weighted? Is the pressure worse when you bend over?"

"Yes, and yes."

Dr. Keane took off the stethoscope and placed it next to the notebook on his desk. "I'm just going to check your ears." Dr. Keane examined one and then the next.

This type of human contact left Tom feeling uncomfortable, in a good way. The sensation was vague and indistinct, like a breath of cool air tightening the skin of his neck.

"Your ears are good." Dr. Keane cleared his throat. "Alright, Mr. Tom..."

"Miller. Tom Miller."

"Yes, Mr. Tom Miller. I gave you twelve stitches and they should hold up just fine. The wound doesn't look infected right now, so your head pain could very well be a sinus infection—but an infection nonetheless. We have some antibiotics for that. I'll also give you some heavier painkillers than the ones you are already taking. They should tide you over if it gets bad enough. Only if it's bad enough. You should feel the antibiotics kick in within the next day."

"Thanks, Dr. Keane." Tom hesitated. "I had a question about what happened a couple of days ago."

"Hot topic of the cruise," Dr. Keane said.

"I was one of the people that helped bring the body on board. Is it possible I could have—"

"Caught some sort of sickness from it? I don't think so. The risk of catching an infectious disease from a corpse is lower than most people think. And from what I could tell, the man died shortly before impact."

How did he die before impact? Tom thought.

"It's just a sinus infection, Tom. You'll feel better before you know it." Dr. Keane headed towards the door. "I'll be right back with your medicine."

Tom slid his shirt back on, his skin pulling where the doctor stitched him up. His head was still hammering away like an army marching towards its end.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Hopefully these pills help, Tom thought. I don't think I can go another night without sleep.

Tom felt like he couldn't think clearly, a thick fog hanging over his thoughts. It felt like he was an observer to his own life, his soul slipping towards the astral plane to watch his body carry out its basic functions.

The door swung back open and in walked Dr. Keane with antibiotics in one hand and painkillers in the other.

"Take one of these with your dinner." Dr. Keane shook the pills. "And these once every six to eight hours. Do not exceed two in a day. I've written this on the bottles."

"Thanks, Dr. Keane." Tom reached for the medicine.

"I hope you feel better, Tom. Come back to me if your condition worsens."

"Sure thing."

Tom felt better once he took the prescribed painkillers. The thudding pain within his head faded.

These pills are a miracle, Tom thought.

Tom could enjoy the beautiful weather again, the bright sun no longer a blade of light piercing his pupil. Tom felt good. He would take it easy, stay out of the water for a few days to avoid opening the stitches.

"Can we go to the pool now?" Sandy asked.

"That's where we're headed, Sandy." Tom smiled.

"But your father is staying out of the water," Marilyn said.

"But I wanted to play Jaws," Sandy said.

"Jaws will have to wait," Marilyn said. "Tom, how are you feeling?"

"I feel better. The headache seems to be gone."

"We've traded places," Marilyn said, massaging her temples to soothe the pain.

"Is it bad?"

"It's fine but if it gets worse, I'm stealing some of your prescriptions." Marilyn winked.

"We haven't slept well the last couple of nights, you probably need some rest," Tom said.

Marilyn dropped her sunglasses over her eyes as they reared the corner to the pool. Sandy skipped her way to the splash pad while they draped their towels over the beach chairs. For the first time in the last couple of days, Tom felt like he was on vacation again. The sun warmed his cheeks. He was no longer thinking about the body and the missing head. The fear that once wrapped its hands tightly around his neck loosened its grip. Tom was happy to be on a cruise with his wife a daughter. He was happy they were safe and healthy after what happened.

Tom stretched his arms over his head, his skin along his ribs feeling one size too small.

"Can you see Sandy?" Tom asked.

Marilyn lowered her book. "She's in the kiddie pool playing with Aiden and Kayla." Marilyn shifted onto her side to face Tom. "What did the doctor say about the pain?"

"He said it was probably a sinus infection and the wound didn't look infected."

"Did you ask about the body, if you could have—"

"He said it's not likely." The brief moment of peace was gone. Tom was thinking about the corpse again, the dead man. His pale skin slippery like an algae-covered rock. He wondered if the impact imploded the man's head into his sternum. Tom heard a story of that happening when a man got hit by a train head-on, bits of skull scattered in his torso like shrapnel from a grenade.

"Are you sure?" Marilyn pushed.

"What did I just tell you?" Tom felt anger flash across his face. "I had just started forgetting about what happened. Do we have to keep talking about it?"

"We have Sandy to think about here."

"Don't you think I know that?"

Marilyn shifted upright and returned to her book. The conversation was over. No words were needed. Tom was in the relationship long enough to know sometimes no words were the loudest.

Tom reached for his hat and covered his face. He tried to get back to his original mood, but he couldn't shake the feeling. It felt like he had no control over his emotions. A stranger in his own body.

Tom started thinking of the dead man again. He wondered what the man's face had looked like before it shattered like a watermelon hitting the floor in the produce section. Tom's mind began crafting its nightmare. He saw a nose and a mouth. Then he saw dark eyes—as dark as the waters the night they found the body. The man's face began to shift, his cheekbones and jaw gliding beneath the skin of his face, restructuring into something different, something alien.

"Daddy, look!" Tom heard Sandy call from the pool. "Daddy!" But her voice began to fade into something distant as a louder sound began to take its place.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Like a fist pounding a glass window.

The pain was returning. Tom reached for more painkillers.