Cataclysmic Evolution - 6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“We need to get him stabilized.”

“The tank won’t work on his eyes.”

“Either we worry about those now and risk him dying from infection, or we worry about them later and save his life at the expense of his short-term sight. This is my ward. Do as I say.”

Barron could hear them speaking, he even understood them, but it was like a layer of cloth separated him from the rest of the world. Bright white cloth that surrounded him, painful in its purity. Someone blocked it, trading the light for dark, and he sighed in relief.

The disassociation between his mind and his body was ripped away the second he was moved again. This time Barron didn’t lose consciousness, though he wished he had, as he slid into a tingling fluid. Chills raced up and down his spine, and shivers wracked him. It felt as if his skin split in uneven cracks all along his limbs with every shake.

He moaned.

“He needs more meds.”

“No. His body is already in shock. More pain meds could push him over the edge. Get him in the tank and let the fluid do its job.”

Barron wished the people arguing over him would just shut up. He really wished he could tell them that, too, but it was all he could do to hold in the screams as more of his body was lowered into the stinging fluid.

He didn’t want to go in the tank. The tank hurt. Barron tried to pull away from the grip on his arms, but he couldn’t break the hold. He just slid into the tank faster. Barron’s panic rose as the fluid seeped into his ears and began to cover his face. How was he going to breathe? Were they drowning him?

The fluid echoed with his gasps for air. There was no scent to it as it lapped at his nose and then closed over it.

Trying to hold his breath was futile. Barron gasped… and air filled his lungs. He wasn’t breathing the fluid. His heart began to slow from a frantic drum beat to a slower pace. The tingles began to spread and join until his whole body might’ve been vibrating for all he knew. It felt like it.

Garbled voices spoke around the tank, but he couldn’t understand them anymore. Exhaustion dragged at Barron’s limbs. He let go of the almost subconscious tension in his muscles and let the fluid in the tank cradle him.

It felt good. The pain was gone or maybe it was just hidden. Barron didn’t really care.

He was so tired.

So tired.

Barron jerked when a hand reached into the tank and touched his face. At regular intervals, someone kept doing that—touching his mouth—and it was fucking pissing him off.

“Leave me alone!” he snapped. Except, he didn’t. There was something in his mouth he hadn’t even felt before. It was round and hard and covered his lips, dipping between them to invade his mouth. “What the fuck?”

That came out garbled too.

Barron reached for his mouth, but the goo in the tank was too viscous. He couldn’t reach through it to his mouth—he could barely move at all.

The next time Barron woke the hands weren’t touching his face, they were tugging on his shoulders. Barron kicked his legs and dislodged one hand from an ankle. His feeble struggles didn’t stop them. Why wouldn’t they let him sleep? He wanted to sleep.

“Hey, calm down, young man. We’re taking you out of the tank; if you struggle, we could drop you.”

His skin felt far too tender to take a drop on the floor. Barron fell still, other than a fine tremor he couldn’t stop. The anticipation of agony when they placed him on a soft surface consumed him, but it didn’t hurt.

Thank God it didn’t hurt.

“C-c-cold,” he said through clenched teeth. Air flowed over his body. Did they have him in some sort of freezer? All he could see was a pale blur.

“Just a minute.”

Barron heard a beep, and then warm air enveloped him. “Ahh.”

“Here.” A rough cloth settled over his body up to his armpits. “There, now you won’t get cold.”

The cloth was scratchy. It irritated his ribs and nipples with every breath. “What did you put over my eyes?” Barron reached up to touch his face. Someone grabbed his hand.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Who are you? What’s going on?”

Another voice spoke on the other side of the bed. A woman. “My name is Dr. Aya Samuels. The other person is one of my medics, Nolu. We’ve been caring for you after you were involved in an incident on your way to the ship. Do you remember?”

A bunny. A little girl with her hair in a ribbon… “Marya! Was she hurt? Is she okay?” Barron reached for the doctor with one hand. “Please tell me.”

“Calm down.” Dr. Samuels grabbed his hand and gently rested it back on the bed. “Your body took a lot of damage, and you went into shock. You need to remain calm and try not to stress yourself.”

Why was she avoiding his questions? “Where is Marya?”

“She was here. She had a severe sunburn on her hands and face, but you had her covered up in seconds, which helped protect her from the amount of damage you received. I treated her and sent her back to your ship quarters with her caretaker—and her bunny. She was going on and on about B saving her bunny. I guess B is you.”

Barron nodded. He sank into the pillows and let go of the doctor’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. Marya was okay. Barron closed his eyes. They were sore from straining to see the doctor.

“You’re welcome.” Dr. Samuels patted his hand.

“You, on the other hand, were out in the sun for about twenty seconds without protection. You sustained severe burns over most of your face, back, and arms, with minor burns on your stomach and legs. The tank healed most of the superficial skin damage, and we were able to rehydrate you while you were in there as well.

“Unfortunately, the damage to your skin was not the worst injury you sustained. Marya knocked off your sunglasses, leaving your eyes unprotected. The eyes are far more delicate tissue than the dermis layer of your body… one I’m unable to heal with the tank. I’m sorry, Barron, but until we get to the new planet and I can set up a full clinic, I can’t fix your eyes.”

“Fix my eyes? What happened to them? I remember the stinging, and them watering so bad I couldn’t see. What happened to my eyes?” Barron reached for his face again, jerking his arm away when the doctor tried to stop him.

He slid his fingers up his cheeks, expecting to find some type of healing goop over his eyes, but they were dry. He opened his eyes, but the milky clouds were still there.

“Barron, remember what I said about staying calm. Nolu!”

“How do I stay calm? I can’t see. I can’t see!” Barron shook his head. “This can’t be happening. I can’t be blind. No one goes blind anymore!”

A hiss and a cold sting bit Barron high on his neck. “What the—”

“When you wake up, we’ll talk some more.” The doctor’s voice came to him through a long tunnel, echoing distantly.

Huh. Just like in the cave, when the whole world came to a crashing halt.

“Barron?”

“Mphm.” Barron didn’t want to wake up. He couldn’t remember why in his sleepy haze, but he remembered he didn’t want to wake up. “Ngh.” He grabbed the blanket before it could be yanked off the bed.

Ouch. It hurt to move his hands, like his skin was tight.

“Barron, you must wake up now. We’re about to take off.”

“Okay. See you later.” He yawned and shoved the pillow under his head better. It was flat. He hated that. He’d have to ask his mom to get him a new one. He ignored his parents’ whispers.

“Dr. Samuels said get him up.” A cold, wet cloth smacked Barron in the face.

“What the hell?” Barron jerked upright. He blinked repeatedly. It didn’t help. “Oh, damn.” He wasn’t at home. His parents weren’t bugging him to get his ass up for school before they left for work. “What?”

“Hello, Barron. I’m Nolu, if you don’t remember me from before. We need to get you back to your bunk. The ship’s going to take off soon, and for the twenty hours we’ll be in-system everyone is confined to quarters. Dr. Samuels says rest is best for you. She contacted your group leader, a Mr. Hodge, and he said your friends were anxious to see you.”

“Okay.”

Barron reached down to push aside the blanket. Only then did he realize he was stark naked. He couldn’t see her, but he’d heard a female voice. No way was he flashing his dangly bits. “Can I get something to put on? And some privacy?”

“Oh, right, sorry. I have a pair of pants and a shirt right here. Mejia stepped out.”

Barron fumbled with the cloth, trying to figure out how to put them on. He grit his teeth.

“Here. Feel for the waist, then slide your hand around the band until you feel the ties. That’s the front.” Nolu guided Barron’s hand by the wrist. Barron nodded curtly. He grabbed the sides of the waistband and pulled it up and over his legs, then stood up, pulling the pants up all the way. Standing was more challenging than he thought it would be.

Unable to really see anything more than light, and a faint shadow that had to be Nolu, he had a hard time staying balanced. “Does the doctor think my sight might come back on its own?” Barron grabbed the bed, then slid his free hand over the top, looking for the shirt.

“You might see some improvement.” He coughed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Damn it, the guy was an idiot. He couldn’t even explain anything without sounding like he had no fucking idea what to say. “Just say it.”

“You damaged the cornea, as well as your retina. Injuries like that don’t spontaneously heal.” Nolu sounded regretful, but he didn’t sugarcoat the matter. Barron appreciated the lack of bullshit. He might be hesitant, but…

Barron snorted. No wonder why the guy apologized. Seeing anything in the near future wasn’t happening. “Thank you.” He found the shirt and spread it out, checking the openings. Sleeve, sleeve, neck, bottom. It didn’t seem to matter which side was front or back, so he slipped it over his head. He’d stumbled into his clothes with his eyes closed before school enough to know how to get a damn shirt on—sight or no sight.

At least it was comfortable.

A single claxon warning echoed through the ship. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more time to get used to this, but we have to go. Mejia,” Nolu called.

The door slid open with a hiss. “I’m going to take one arm, and she’s going to take the other. We’ll have you walk between us. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Like a damned invalid, Barron was forced to lean on the two medics. He was woozy, and without his eyesight, he’d never make it. He knew the D section on the third level was just four levels down from the med ward, almost directly in fact.

But he’d never find his way around the ship like this. “Just walk normally,” Mejia said.

Normal walking did not involve holding on to two strangers like a damn cripple and praying he didn’t fall into anything. Barron grunted and closed his eyes. The strange effect from the light made him dizzy; he kept straining to make things out, too. His head began to hurt, a steady throb in his temples.

“Keeping your eyes closed is a good idea. I think your glasses were lost, but you can requisition a new pair when we’re done with the launch and in-system travel. They might help reduce the white glare.”

“Thanks,” Barron muttered. The trip down the magnetic lift was silent. The quiet broke as soon as they entered D section.

“Barron!” William reached him first, pushing the female medic away and taking her place.

“Oh my God, man, you’re okay! They said you would be, but…”

“You looked like you’d been barbequed man.” Barron frowned. Now he had an image of himself on a platter with a fruit in his mouth or something.

“Creed! Shut up,” Thavin hissed.

“But he looks fine now, perfectly normal—other than a little pale.”

“Christ on a cracker, Creed, shut up.” William’s hand tightened on Barron’s arm.

“Okay, okay, fine. Shutting up.”

“We’re glad you’re back, Barron.” Barron swung his head around toward Mr. Hodge’s voice.

“Thanks,” Barron muttered.

“Boys, Barron should be in his bunk—Doctor’s orders—and so should you—Captain’s orders. The ship will launch soon.”

“Yes, sir. C’mon, we’ll get you all set up.” Thavin took Nolu’s spot. Barron swallowed, trying to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

Barron’s stuff had been shifted to a bottom bunk, apparently. He went to climb in and smacked his head on the bottom of the bunk above him.

“Ow! Shit.” He rubbed at his forehead.

“Oh, stellar job guys. Let him get hurt again, why don’t you?” Creed snorted. “How about, ‘duck your head, Barron, there’s a metal beam here’?”

“Bugger—”

“That’s enough,” Barron snapped. His head hurt, his skin still felt like it was stretched too tight over his body, and everyone was probably staring right at him. “Just get out of the way.” He shook off his friends and slid his hand along the bottom of the bunk, feeling a number etched in the metal at the corner, then reached down to find his mattress. He could crawl into his own bed, damn it.

“Get in your bunks like Mr. Hodge said.” Barron rolled over, finding his pillow and then the small buttons on the headboard. Which one was it again?

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Which button’s for the stasis field?”

“Third from the left.” The answer sounded like it came from the bunk across from Barron. He squinted, trying to see who was talking, but he didn’t recognize the harsh whisper. All he could see was a shadow.

“Thanks.”

The guy rolled over. “Whatever.”

What was his problem?

Barron pressed the third button and the stasis field activated down by his feet, slowly moving up toward his head. Before it could reach him, he settled back into the bed. The stasis fields would be shut off when they reached space.

Until then, Barron would nap. It’s not like he had anything else to do.

Napping was pretty much all he did for the next three days. He got up for meals, but he hated the fact that someone had to guide him there, help him figure out where his food was. Even then, he spilled half of it. He started asking for blended meals, like a toothless old person. Then he had to sit there and wait for someone who had the time to take him back to D section.

Screw it, Barron was tired of fucking waiting around. The cafeteria was empty. Thavin had to run down to Security, but he said he’d be back in a few minutes. He could make it down two straight corridors. Of course he smacked his shins against three chairs.

All in all, Barron was feeling very bitter, except for when Marya would climb up in his bed. He always sat up, letting her squirm around on his lap as she jabbered on. He didn’t regret running after her, he just wished…

“Ow!”

He stumbled and fell. The metal grate on the floor sliced into his palms and skinned his knees.

“Whoops. I’m so clumsy.”

Barron clenched his teeth together. Why hadn’t he expected this? He’d heard the whispers and knew what they were probably saying.

Weak.

Victim.

Worthless.

Annoying burden.

He couldn’t even avoid a twerp trying to get back at him. Barron knew exactly who tripped him.

“Revi Porter!”

Barron jerked back against the wall.

“Front and center, young man. Now.”

Someone else was in the corridor with them.

“Did I just see you just trip Mr. Pernell?”

“Yes, sir.” Revi’s drawl made it sound like he said, ‘suh’. “But Dad—”

Shit, it was Revi’s dad, the lieutenant colonel. “No buts. You committed assault on a fellow survivor. A young man who was severely injured, and could’ve died, after he selflessly ran after a little girl—one he’d already saved once before. Yet you felt it was acceptable to knock someone down who is unable to protect himself.

“Maybe you need to spend some time helping Mr. Pernell about his daily routine, so you can make up for your disgraceful behavior.”

Barron cringed. Why not put a sign on his back that said, ‘useless cripple’. He slid a hand across the floor, looking for his glasses. He didn’t like anyone seeing his eyes—not after several people had gasped when he looked toward them. And the voices were always aimed at his chest, like just looking at him made people uncomfortable.

Finally, he found his glasses and slipped them on.

“I’m fine.” It was time to stop this whole thing before it got even more humiliating. “It was an accident.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m wrong? That I didn’t see what was clearly visible?”

Barron snapped. “Yeah, maybe you’re as blind as me. I said I’m fine, and it was an accident.”

“He did the exact same thing to me the first day we met, Dad. He’s a disrespectful ass, clearly, because he didn’t understand what you meant at all.”

“I don’t fucking care what he meant, or what he says. I don’t want you helping me. Just stay the hell away from me.” Barron lost count of how many steps he’d taken. He’d have to feel the letter plates on the sections. “I don’t need anyone.”

Barron was done relying on other people. He could manage on his own. It wasn’t forever; just until they got to the new planet and Dr. Samuels could fix his eyes. He took a few steps forward and then his hand reached open air. He stumbled sideways and slammed into the edge of the door.

He grunted, biting his lip.

“Oh yeah, smooth,” Revi taunted him.

“Son!” Lt. Colonel Porter had a bark on him just like Barron’s dad had—before he died. But Porter wasn’t his dad, and Barron didn’t need to listen to the overbearing jerk.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Apologize to him, not me.”

Even though it clearly galled him, Revi apologized. “Sorry, Barron.”

“Whatever. I don’t accept your apology, just like I don’t accept his opinion that I need your help.”

“That, Mr. Pernell, is clearly untrue. Further, whether or not you care what I meant previously, I’ve spoken. As an officer on this ship, I can dictate the responsibilities of the civilians on board. You, Mr. Pernell, will have an aide until such time as your eyesight can be restored. Revi will assist you during your waking hours. This is not up for debate. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Revi sounded as furious as Barron felt.