Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) Read Free Page B

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.