Pain, and the grunted sounds made by men engaged in arduous labour. Pain, and the dull ache of heavy blows. Pain, and the screaming protest of numbed nerve and muscle as it warmed and crawled a reluctant path back to fife and awareness. Curt groaned and writhed against the grasp of many hands. He shuddered, writhed, and screamed with the searing agony of returning circulation.
As if from a great distance he heard a familiar voice.
“Steady, Curt. This is going to hurt.”
It did. It filled his veins with acid and rasped his raw nerves with emery cloth. It took every cell and atom of his body and wrenched with red hot pliers. It probed deep into his brain and vibrated within the marrow of his bones. It was hell.
Blackness came then, the sweet, doubly welcome blackness of oblivion and appro
