Sarah, sweetheart?” Alex sat beside her bed, urging for her to come to.
She felt someone squeeze her hand. Memories flashed through her brain, adding to the pain. Some memories were visual, others auditory, and still others olfactory. They were jumbled, out of order: acrid smoke burning her lungs before the air was forced out of them; a series of loud bangs; flickering lights; screams; violent lurching; pain; blackness.
“Sarah.” The sweet voice again, closer this time, tinged with concern. She wanted to comply, to respond. She wanted desperately to break from the confines of gravity, but it was too strong. Her eyelids felt as if they had been sealed shut.
“Allow her to come to on her own. Her brain will determine when it’s ready,” the nurse said as she came into the room.
“Alex.” Her voice was raw and scratchy. She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, but her mouth was so dry. He’s here, she thought. A tear leaked out, sliding down the side of her face. He still loves me.
Alex shot out of his seat as if he’d been ejected. “Sarah,” he breathed close to her ear.
He sounded relieved.
She groaned, and his voice grew anxious again. “Are you in pain?”
She ignored his question. She had more pressing matters. “Where am I? What happened?” She furrowed her brow and the pain in her head returned.
“You’re in hospital, Love. You don’t remember what happened?”
“No,” she replied, wincing again as she tried to remember.
“There was an accident on the Underground tube. From what the media reports have said, there was a massive power surge, causing a series of explosions. There was chaos at first, with rumors of a terrorist attack.”
Train. She vaguely remembered being on the train . . . going somewhere . . . the only thing she could really remember was the noise, the smoke, the pain.
“Mr. Fraser, please excuse me while I check her IV.”
He released her hand reluctantly before moving to the other side of the bed.
His hand was replaced by the gloved touch of the nurse. “How are you feeling, Ms. Edwards? Can you open your eyes for me?”
Sarah tried, but only succeeded with a couple of ineffectual blinks. The light was painful. Someone flipped the light switch, turning off the light, taking the sharper pain with it. “How’s that? Better?” the nurse asked kindly. She had no accent. American, Sarah wondered?
“Yes.” Her voice croaked again. “Could I have some water?” She opened her eyes, hesitantly at first. All she saw was a blurry face, surrounded by red hair. Blinking some more, the nurse came into focus. She had a plain, but kind, face, and her nose was covered in freckles. No offense to her, but she wasn’t who Sarah wanted to see. “Alex?”
“I’m here, Love.” Taking her unfettered hand, he held it to his lips. Though his brow was creased with worry, he wore a small smile.
Sarah was so relieved to see his dear, sweet face. A face she thought she’d never see again. Closing her eyes, she licked her dry lips. The nurse held a straw to her mouth, cautioning her to take small sips. It was so cool and sweet as it passed down her raw throat, she wanted to gulp it, but the nurse pulled the straw away.
“You can have more in a few minutes. The doctor will be in soon,” she said, stepping away from the bed.
“How long?” She hoped Alex understood her disjointed question. Her throat still burned.
“The accident was yesterday. You’ve only been out a little more than twenty-four hours.” He brushed his free hand tentatively across her cheek, his other still holding her hand.
“How many . . . hurt?” Another inarticulate question.
“About a hundred, but most were treated and released. Cuts, scrapes, things of that sort. Only a few were hospitalized.”
“Any . . . dead?”
“No. They’re saying it’s a miracle the injuries weren’t worse.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Edwards.”
Sarah tried to turn her head in the direction of the voice, but the pain returned with a vengeance and the room tilted slightly.
“I’m the neurologist, Dr. Smithwick. It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling today?” He stood on the side of the bed opposite Alex, Sarah’s chart in his hand.
He appeared old enough to be her father, with a shock of white hair, and pale gray eyes. His face looked worn, but friendly.
Awake? Just barely. She felt like she could sink into the darkness again at any time. “Fine. My head hurts. My throat burns. My body aches.”
“Sounds about right.