Mich was taken aback. {People who made you . . . Camille?}
{No! The ones who requested me! The gray people! Stop! Let me go! NO! NO MORE!}
{No more what, Nev?} Mich struggled to control the helplessness rising within her. {No more what??}
{No—don’t put me in the chair! I don’t want to be here! . . . straps on my ankles, straps on my arms—all cold metal—so cold—cold empty blackness}
Mich felt a surge of raw heat plunge down her spine. {Nev, I’m here with you—I’m right here holding you. What are they doing, Nev? It’s important that you tell me . . .}
{Cold metal all over—hands at my neck . . . more metal . . . choking me . . .}
~*~
Anissa suddenly blinked a few times and her conscious ‘self’ took a few deep breaths and sat down on the ground. ::You’re doing great, babe—just keep going, I need to take a breather:: she said, still taking in giant ‘breaths’.
With a Herculean effort Mich tore her attention away from Nev. ::Nissie, you okay?::
::Just a little <breath> out of breath <breath> it’ll pass:: Anissa replied.
::Are you sure? I’m not gonna let this go on otherwise. It’s not worth getting you hurt:: Mich said.
::No—keep going—I’m fine.::
~*~
Mich turned back to Nev. She wished she could see him—see what was happening to him . . . but all she could do was listen and try not to let his rampaging fear and pain overcome her. {Nev, is there anyone in the room with you?}
{The gray people—they’re not beside me, but I can feel them here . . .}
{Why do you call them gray?} Mich asked.
{I can’t see them, but I “see” them—and they’re gray—all gray . . . Oh no—the humming . . . the humming . . .}
{Nev, why do you call them gray? Is that what color they are? What color their clothes are? Who are they? Come on, Nev, you can do it!} Mich tried to keep her tone calm and even, even as frustration tore away at her, nearly making her scream from the effort to keep her sanity.
{No! I can’t! The humming—the humming—heat! Heat on my wrists!}
~*~
::Oooo, man my wrists ache. I thought I was too young for arthritis—maybe it’s carpal tunnel from all those late nights on the computer, eh Nev?::
::Wrists . . . ?:: Nev stopped and gave Anissa a cautious mental look.
::Yeah, wrists—whoo, I’ll have to remember to take a couple Advil before I go to bed tonight.::
~*~
{What’s happening? Keep talking, Nev—it’s the only way I can help you is to keep talking!} Mich said, resisting the urge to shout.
{Heat—heat on my wrists—so tight—they hurt}
{Your wrists are fine, Nev. I’m holding them in my hands right now and they’re fine . . . Nev, I know you’re hurting and you’re scared. Believe me, I’m feeling it right along with you. But you HAVE to tell me who these people are. I HAVE to know, Nev.} Mich used every bit of energy left in her rapidly tiring body to convey the urgency of the request.
{I don’t know—they’re just—GRAY PEOPLE! Now my wrists are cold . . . cold again}
Mich bit her tongue to keep from screaming. {Gray HOW, Nev? I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not telling me what I need to know!}
His response made every neuron in Mich’s head shriek in instant outrage and fury. {Oh no—more humming—more heat—around my neck—burning—pain—heat—so tight—can’t . . . breathe . . . }
Somehow, through the swirling maelstrom of her own rage and pain Mich heard Anissa’s voice, echoing as if spoken from across a wide canyon. ::Man, I hope they turn up the air—it’s getting kinda stuffy in here—hard to brea—:: Anissa’s conscious self passed out, and far away from the raging emotional storm, her corporeal body took three or four large gasps of air, lolled back, and slid to the floor in a heap.
On to Chapter Five
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