My ears feel as if they’re underwater. Blocked, stuffed, not functioning. But they begin to clear. I finally hear things. Distant chatter, distant sirens, distant footsteps. Someone’s voice fades in and out.
“…she’s breathing…” It sounds disembodied. I discern no face to the voice. “…space…it’s okay…”
I must be alive. At least.
“…must be…explosion…” Where am I? My vocal cords don’t budge. Am I mute? Wait, am I in a coma? Why can’t I— “It’s okay…just give her time…”
I attune to the voices. That must be a man’s voice. But not my man’s. It was deeper, older. Raw terror pools in in the pit of my belly. Where is he?
“She just fainted. Been out for thirty minutes,” says the man. I know him. It’s Bunny. I think. Loud noises thud in my ear. “Relax, won’t you? Just get back.” My head clamps an
