Chapter 9: Awakening

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My head slams violently on the side of my pod, waking me up. Hot blood trails down my face, but I can only think about my aching head right now. The rest of me hurts too, but I try to push the pain away. I need to get out of my pod.

I give myself a few moments to rest. I can already feel the temperature rising in the pod, and it rises quickly. I undo the straps holding me inside the pod and push a button that should open the pod doors. Nothing happens. I push it again. The pod door remains shut. It must be blocked from the other side.

Bringing my knees as close to my chest as I can, I kick the door as hard as possible. By the time I've made a crack in the pod door, I'm sweating buckets and I'm just about ready to collapse. The air seems to be getting thinner in the pod, so I need to hurry up.

With a final kick, I make a hole in the door. Clawing my way out, I gulp down air– except I can't breathe. Gasping and choking, I try to force the toxic air out of my lungs. It tastes acrid and it hurts to breathe– like I'm inhaling acid. Did Tachyon make a mistake? Is this air breathable?

My lungs scream no and I black out before I've even taken a look at this new world.

I wake to flames. The sweltering heat surrounds me and I peel my eyes open. Smoke wafts through the air, making me cough. But– at least I can breathe now, as painful as it is. I pull myself out the ring of flames, out of danger. Safe– at least for now, I collapse on the ground.

Unlike around the fire, the ground is cold. In places, it is made of packed earth, but it's mostly worn concrete. Our pods seemed to have crashed into an abandoned building that's falling apart. The roof has several holes in it, but I can't tell if our pods made them or not. Scattered around the empty, desolate building are the rest of the pods, ringed in fire.

Through the holes in the ceiling, I can see the sky. The skeletal metal scaffolding gives way to thick, dark clouds. Not much light comes through the roof, and it would be completely dark if not for the fires.

Something occurs to me. We crashed into a building. There must be people here. Well, maybe not here, seeing the state of this structure, but maybe somewhere.

I hear the sound of groaning metal echoing off the walls. Even though it's probably nothing, I reach for the switchblade in my pocket. The wind howls outside, and I can hear trees swaying from not too far away.

To distract myself, I decide to make myself useful. I stamp out most of the flames around my pod, leaving only enough light to see. Retrieving my supplies from my pod, I put them a safe distance away from the fire. After grabbing a flashlight, I decide to scout out our surroundings.

I don't know if anyone from our Squadron has escaped their pods yet. There's no point in trying to free them because the pods only open from the inside. That protective measure backfired spectacularly. Besides, I don't want to damage the pods more than I already have to. But to keep the pods from overheating, I stamp out all the fires that are too close to the pod.

The light from the remaining fires doesn't go very far. I need to conserve as much energy as possible, so I turn it on only when it becomes too dark to see. In my other hand, I grip my switchblade– I still don't trust this place very much.

I stop when my light falls on something very familiar. A porcelain doll, dirty and limp on the ground. She's missing an eye and there are cracks and small holes on her pale face. Her dress is dirty and torn beyond recognition, but something sticks out of her back.

Out of curiosity, I kick it, which makes a recording inside the doll sputter to life. The doll starts to sing a distorted song, laughing all the while.

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