Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

             
Tap… tap… silence for a few moments before… tap… tap… tap…

             
The first few moments of tapping seem to echo from the end of a long tunnel. But like a car speeding toward me, the sound grows louder until it echoes all around my head. When it stops, I listen for the thumping of my heart again but hear nothing. I feel nothing either; no coldness, no blinding pain, nothing. One word continues to repeat itself in my mind: Heaven.

             
Am I dead? Experiencing nothingness almost makes me long for the cold and pain, two feelings that at least told me I was still alive. But then I hear the gurgling voice. This time it sounds quiet and hollow, far away and yet somehow all around me. My brain still feels like it moves in slow motion because I don’t understand any of the words being spoken.

The tapping begins anew, much louder than before. I don’t know how to respond, if I’m supposed to do or say something. A few seconds of silence follows and then the voice speaks again, still hollow and all encompassing but louder than the last round of tapping. I recognize words being spoken but my brain is slow to register their meaning.

“Let’s try it louder.”

I don’t know how to respond. Another few seconds of clicking and then more tapping, so loud this time that my head feels like it may implode. For the first time since regaining consciousness, I feel movement that I’ve caused. My eyes are already closed but my face twitches, my eyelids squeezing shut even tighter. I feel my brow furrow and the rest of my face scrunches in pain. Every movement feels pronounced; I sense the slightest twinge of every facial muscle. Despite the agony from such loud noise, it feels good to move my face, good to stretch out muscles that feel like they’ve been dormant a long time.

My equilibrium is disturbed and I’m pretty sure the rest of my body shifted in response to the noise. But I don’t feel the pain or relief of my bodily muscles being put to use. In fact, I feel nothing at all anywhere else on my body. The sound of crunching metal – which directly corresponds to my shifting – grows louder and more agonizing as I squirm, only coming to a stop when I finally go still. I feel like I’m out of breath; more specifically, I can’t take a breath at all. I’m confused but now that I’m calmer, the noise has stopped and I no longer feel like my head will pop. Staying still and quiet seems to work best, though my only clear thought is that something is seriously wrong.

The clicking fills my ears again and I’m worried more eardrum-bursting noise will follow. Why would anyone want to torture me? But the next round of tapping – while still inexplicably hollow – is much quieter, at a normal volume, still very close.

“Can you hear me?” the gurgling voice asks.

It sounds like the speaker has a sip of water in his – or her, I can’t quite tell – mouth when he – or she – speaks. This time, my mind comprehends the string of words and what they all mean when put together. This is where I’m supposed to answer – supposed to talk – but I don’t know how. The only thing I’m physically capable of doing is moving my head, which I turn slightly to the side. I’m not sure it’s a clear enough response so I try to move even more. The crunching metal noise returns and though I can’t feel my body moving, I wonder if I might be knocking something over. The sound stops when I stop so I’m convinced I have something to do with it. I move my head back in place and this time hear a quiet whirring.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the voice says. “And since you’ve calmed down, I’m guessing we have the volume just about right. Sorry about that before. Wish I could make things easier on you but I’m learning as I go, too.”

The person chuckles nervously. For all I know he could be lying but at least he doesn’t sound like he means to torture me.

“Can you move?” he asks. “I mean, I
know
you can move but can you control it?”

I don’t answer; the truth is I don’t know how to answer, nor do I know what the answer is.

“Let’s start easy, can you wiggle your toes?” he asks.

My brain fights through the mire of confusion to understand what he wants me to do. I feel a strange desire to do as the voice says – to please the voice in any way possible – but what he asks seems impossible. I concentrate as best I can and try to move my toes but I feel nothing. Another word immediately comes to mind. It sounds strange but leaves me panicked when I remember what it means.

Paralyzed.

I try even harder, focus intently on my toes, but still feel nothing. I do, however, hear the odd whirring sound again followed thereafter by metal clanging against metal. My eyes remained closed but the equilibrium in my head has become distorted and I feel a rocking sensation.

“Okay, okay,” the voice says with a mixture of urgency and excitement. “You can stop now, stop.”

I don’t know what he wants me to stop but I try to do as he tells me. The metal immediately stops clanging.

“This could take some getting used to,” the voice says. “How about something simpler? Can you open your eyes?”

I’ve known my eyes were shut but I hadn’t considered opening them yet. Now that I try, I find that I can’t. In my mind, I tell my eyelids to part but somehow the message gets lost between brain and face. I don’t know how to do it, don’t know how to get my body to do as I command. It’s very frustrating but I don’t give up. The best I can manage to do is cause slight metallic vibrations beneath my body as I grow increasingly discouraged.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just relax,” the voice says. I do as he says and the vibrations cease. “This is probably my fault, not yours. I’ll try to fix it. It’s all about connecting to the right part. This might feel a bit… uncomfortable.”

The person’s shadow fades away and I sense bright lights above me again. Moments later there’s a hissing of air and the noises around me no longer sound hollow. It’s a relief when I finally feel something, though the pressure pressing against the back of my head is strange and discomforting. Something seems to poke and prod at my mind and I feel different sensations in my face, twitching that I’m not doing on purpose in my cheeks and chin and lips.

And finally in my eyelids. The prodding stops for a moment but when it happens again, my eyelids twitch once more, separate just enough to allow in a thin stream of light. The voice speaks and no longer sounds hollow or distant.

“Think I’ve got it now,” the person says, his voice full of pride. He sounds as relieved as I feel. “Just a moment now.”

I hear a
thwup
, the sound like a… like a vacuum being sealed. This comparison comes much clearer than any thought I’ve had yet. In an instant, my thoughts are no longer muddled, as if a light switch in my brain has been flipped on. I think I’ve also regained the ability to move, though I only test that theory on my face. I open my eyes. Light streams in so brightly from above that I recoil. The pain is intense so I immediately shut them. Though I only opened my eyes a moment, my brain somehow registered that the rest of the room around me is dark.

“I’m sorry,” the voice says, sounding nearby yet hollow once again. “I should’ve realized your eyes wouldn’t be accustomed to light after… such a long time being closed.”
             

The light through my lids soon dims.

              “Please, try again,” the voice says.

             
I open my eyes slower, allowing in smaller amounts of light until I get used to the soft glow. Lots of blinking ensues but they soon adjust. Soon I see not just the source of light above but the reflection of that light against glass inches in front of my eyes, completely surrounding my head. The word to describe the glass comes to mind much quicker than my earlier realizations.

             
Dome, a glass one covering my entire head. At least I’ve figured out what caused the tapping and the distant hollowness to everything I hear. I turn away from the light just enough to see the reflection of my eyes in the glass. They’re wide and unblinking, unnatural yet familiar. I know they’re mine but even with my mind unfrozen, that’s all I
do
know about myself. I try to tap into my memory but I can’t connect with it. I can’t remember anything… except a voice, a tiny one not my own, a voice that wonders if I’m going to a place called Heaven…

             
“Very good, I’m getting the hang of this,” the nearby voice says. “We
both
are. That’s two senses down.”

             
I turn my head toward the voice. It’s hard to pinpoint any sound with everything so hollow; this will take some getting used to. Though I don’t see the other person, my eyes have adjusted enough to take in my surroundings. I’m in a plain white room; the first word that pops into my mind is sterile. I’m in a laying position and look toward the ceiling, seeing nothing of note beyond the few spotlights. Wanting more, I try to sit up but can’t. The word ‘paralyzed’ comes to mind again.

             
“You want to see more, I understand,” the person says. “We’ll get to that soon… hopefully.”

             
I finally spot movement in my periphery but the person is just out of the light, moving along the edge of shadows in the room. I turn my head to follow him and once again hear the whirring sound, this time louder and clearer. I notice it has a faint metallic grinding quality to it. The noise stops when I can no longer turn my neck, my movements severely restricted by the glass dome. At least I
hope
it’s the dome and not a more serious problem…

             
While glancing around for the other person, I end up with the perfect angle to see more of my own reflection. The blue of my eyes is clear to see but so are the tendrils of redness where the whites used to be. Maybe it’s just a trick of the lighting but the rest of my face – cheeks, nose, especially my lips – appears tinged a noticeable shade of blue. I close my eyes and turn back toward the light so I no longer have to see the reflection of a dead man looking back at me.

Now I’m seriously freaked out and want some answers. I concentrate on opening my mouth to talk but nothing happens. No air comes in or out of my mouth, which makes speaking impossible. I try to breathe but an unseen force stops me from doing so. How can I be alive if I’m not breathing? Am I on some sort of machine that keeps my lungs working? Is that what’s causing the mechanical whirring? If this were the situation, I’m pretty sure tubes would be shoved down my throat and my mouth would be taped shut, neither of which seems to be the case. I open my mouth again to check but I’m still unable to make a sound or suck air into my lungs. Not being able to breathe launches me into a frustrated panic and it’s not long before I hear more whirring and twisting metal.

The shadow of the person passes behind me and I hear his gurgling voice, the tone soft and soothing.

“Calm down, just relax,” he says. I try to heed his words and the noise stops. I don’t know why the strange voice has such a soothing effect on me but it does. “You’re opening your mouth because you want to say something?”

I nod but my head barely moves. Instead, I blink my eyes several times with the hope he’ll understand.

“Incredible,” he says breathlessly. “I’m astounded by your level of brain activity, especially since none of the others survived long enough to… well, never mind, that’s not important now.”

If I could gulp, I would. I feel a strong proclivity to trust this person but the last thing he said doesn’t instill much confidence in me. I’m also becoming more apprehensive about not being able to see him. But just when I start to worry why he’s sticking to the shadows, he steps into the light… not that I’m able to tell whether it
is
a he.

He stands between my glass dome and the light so his head remains in shadow, at least the part of his head I actually see. The person is heavily shrouded, a hood like the headpiece of a burqa covering everything but his eyes, which are opened wide and slightly crazed? Or is that more of a focused look? Either way, the only thing I figure is that I’m in some sort of hospital and this person is some sort of doctor. I just wish I could remember how I got hurt or how I got here or
anything
else.

Almost
anything. I wrack my mind but only find the image of a young boy, who calls me some sort of strange word and talks about going to a place called Heaven. I see the boy’s face in my mind as clearly as anything in the room around me but I don’t recall his name or how I know him. Still, the spark of emotion I feel at the thought of him makes it pretty clear he’s important to me… somehow. Ultimately, I don’t know what the feeling means and it’s even more confusing since I don’t recall anything about myself.

“Just going to open this up here and work on you a bit,” the person says in front of me. “Try to relax, I’m fairly certain I’ve got this figured out.”

I open my mouth to ask “fairly certain?” but nothing comes out. I watch the person’s covered head reach toward the glass dome, which he slowly lifts off me. I imagine the air is stale within the dome but I can’t take a deep breath now to confirm that. I stare wide-eyed at the small metal tool the person lowers toward me.

“Don’t worry, this shouldn’t hurt,” he says.

At this point, I’m pretty sure my initial assumption is correct that this person is a he; I’d think a woman would be more delicate with her words to keep me calm. Still, there’s something about this cloaked figure that I trust, even as he aims the tool’s red laser toward my neck. Sparks fly. Though I feel no pain, it’s hard to control my nerves and stop from flinching. The crunching of metal sounds much closer this time and the man turns off the laser. He leans closer to my face and I see that his eyes look in worse shape than mine. The whites of his eyes are dull yellow while his irises are bright red, a color I’ve never seen in an eye before. I wonder if he’s worse off than I am. But looking at him calms me down and stops the clanging metal. He just nods, not needing to say anything before continuing to work.