Breachers

Breachers – Path of Steel

12

I

Reunion

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Day 1

Marcus

In his hospital bed, Marcus’s gaze was on the nurse as she carefully flushed out his IV. He watched as she connected a syringe to the IV line, pushing a clear liquid into the tube, snaking its way towards his arm. The young man could almost feel the coolness of the liquid as it entered his vein. It was a peculiar sensation, both calming and weird at the same time. The sterile smell of the hospital room enveloped him, a mix of antiseptic and disinfectant, subtly mingling with the faint scent of old sweat.

When he once again looked at the sight of his frail arms and lack of muscles, it nearly broke him. Marcus strained against the heaviness that weighed down his arm, desperately willing it to obey his command. His muscles burned with effort, but all he achieved was a faint flicker in his fingers, like a dying spark struggling to ignite. In that moment, nothing made sense to him. His memory was a jumbled mess—the only clear bits he remembered were heading to the Tech expo with his friends and then suddenly waking up in the hospital as he someone stabbed him. Beyond that, his head buzzed with fragmented dreams that refused to align into a coherent picture. Panic and confusion threatened to consume him, but suddenly, a sense of calm washed over him as he felt a sudden pressure. Struggling to turn his head, he spotted his brother and sister seated by his side. His sister was gripping his hand tightly, her face smudged with dirt and streaked with tears, yet radiating an enormous smile. It struck him how much they had changed.

He studied his sister further, seeing the shaved sides of her head, and the intricate web of scars and mysterious greenish marks etched into her skin there. She had grown up into a mature woman, a stark contrast to the girl he once knew. He could barely recognize her, covered in blood and grime, but her infectious smile and the familiar glimmer in her green eyes were still the same. Just looking at her brought back memories of their mother. As he observed her athletic frame and lean muscles, he couldn’t help but think, ‘She looks healthy... strong even.’ Joline had transformed since the last time they were together, no longer immersed in her phone and showing disdain for physical activity. Faint memories resurfaced of their last conversation, the lingering irritation and the sharpness of their exchange. He suddenly felt a strong yearning to take back the hurtful things he had said back then.

His brother, once a scrawny 11-year-old, now stood before him as a grown man. Just seeing the change was enough to terrify Marcus, realizing how much time might have passed. Martin looked healthy, even sporting a neatly trimmed beard and a crumpled suit, as if he had slept in his clothes. His once unkempt black hair was now neatly styled. Marcus tried to smile at his brother, but his facial muscles could only manage a crooked twitch, which went unnoticed by his younger brother. Still, a surge of relief washed over Marcus at the sight of his brother’s maturation. His gaze lingered on the crutches in Martin’s hand, as well as the absence of the man’s lower right leg. ‘He’s okay... Joline as well,’ he assured himself, vaguely recalling the devastation of the Tech expo and the people crushed by meteors and falling debris. The weirdest part was the fragmented memory of something monstrous tearing into something. ‘They are alive. That’s all that matters.’ Marcus strained to catch the murmur of conversation between his uncle and the doctor near the foot of his bed. Determined, he forced his head to turn again, fixing his gaze on his uncle, Laurens. He could see the fine lines now etched deep into his uncle’s face, with grey hairs in his beard and sporting a slight paunch that had replaced the once chiseled physique that had always defined his uncle. The man’s beard had also grown out, adding to the noticeable changes. A subtle vulnerability seemed to shadow the man, a quality that Marcus couldn’t quite place.

“He’s showing positive signs of awareness and comprehension. We conducted some basic tests, and his reactions were well above what we expected. It appears the coma might not have severely affected your cognitive functions,” the doctor explained as he looked at Marcus while saying it, respectfully trying to keep him involved.

"That's a relief to hear,” his uncle said, leaning over to pat Marcus’s leg. “What about his body? Will he be able to regain full function?"

The doctor hesitated; his gaze fixed on Marcus as he carefully selected his words. “Honestly, it’s a challenging question. Made even harder after the recent attack he sustained,” he began, his tone thoughtful. “Your nephew has endured a great deal, and the experimental type of treatment he received, and his unexpected recovery are areas where we lack sufficient data. What I can tell you is that the operation he just underwent went great, and the experimental treatment he’s gotten these years appears to have slowed down the decline that I am normally used to, both mentally and physically. It is truly remarkable.”

Marcus struggled to form coherent words, only managing certain sounds or producing a bit of drool. All of it frustrated him beyond words. The sensation of being trapped in his own body resurfaced something, a fragment of a weird dream where he felt buried and voiceless. Irritation and fear gripped him as he made another attempt, locking eyes with his uncle. “Ma... n... ye?” Each syllable felt like a battle, even though he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. His uncle’s face snapped towards him at hearing him actually speak for the first time again, the others reacting in kind. The fragility of his uncle suddenly became evident as he clenched the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white with strain, his lower lip trembling as he spoke Marcus’s name.

“I want to stress once more the significance of rest and a gradual adjustment in regards to information and recent events. There have been considerable changes,” the doctor advised, interrupting Marcus’s uncle. The room fell quiet at that while Marcus’s gaze shifted between his family members, pleading for help, until his sister made a slow rise from her chair.

“We’re grateful for your advice, Dr. Berends. But we’d like to have a moment alone with our brother,” she stated, her eyes briefly showing a hint of firmness when the doctor hesitated. Eventually, he nodded and informed them he would return in a few minutes to run some more tests. As the doctor and nurse exited, a heavy silence settled in the room, almost to the point of becoming deafening. The rhythmic beeping of the machine monitoring Marcus’s vital signs filled the air, its monotonous tone punctuating the otherwise hushed atmosphere. The family members exchanged uncertain glances, waiting for someone to break the heavy silence and take the lead. Finally, Joline shattered the stillness with two brutal words. “Thirteen years.”

The number echoed through Marcus's thoughts, his eyes widening as if struggling to grasp its magnitude. ‘I’ve been in a coma for thirteen years?’ The doctor’s prior explanations about how he had been in a coma and that some time had passed suddenly became painfully real, striking him with a gut-wrenching blow. At the same time, the change of his family was now fully sinking in. ‘Thirteen years of my life wasted!’ his thoughts sluggishly formed, struggling to grasp the enormity of what he had missed. It was a struggle to handle his emotions, and he struggled with his own thoughts. It made him wonder if it was because of the lingering effects of his recent awakening or some permanent damage. He took his time, allowing the weight of those lost years to sink in, accepting the magnitude of what he might have missed. “M... Mo… D... ad,” he managed to say, the words faltering.

“Mom and dad... they’re... no longer with us,” Martin said softly as he stared intently at the floor, unable to meet Marcus's eyes, oblivious to the shockwave and tears welling up on his brother’s face upon hearing those words. Yet, everyone could hear the jumble of words escape Marcus’s lips as the man was suddenly dealing with the sudden painful reality of losing both his parents. Trapped in his bedridden state, his gaze darted around frantically, searching for any sign of his parents as if they might miraculously appear next to him.

Joline gripped Marcus’s hand again, offering a reassuring squeeze. “A lot has happened, Marcus. We... everyone has lost a lot these last thirteen years,” she hesitated, as if weighing whether to elaborate further. Her features softened, her gaze fixating on him with a gentle understanding. “But you’re here now... back with us. And we’re not going anywhere.”

“M... y?" Marcus questioned, his thoughts spiraling as he observed his sister, noticing the unfamiliar greenish material on her knuckles and along the side of her head. His gaze shifted to his own right arm, where a blackish substance had fused with his flesh. ‘None of this makes sense! And I still don’t know what this is,’ he wondered, moments before a searing headache struck, stabbing at his temples with merciless intensity while it was accompanied by vivid images of him seeing his own body buried among a mass of corpses and debris. The room around him blurred, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming onslaught of images that danced behind his eyelids. Each flash of memory felt like a lightning bolt tearing through his mind.

“How many?” His uncle, Laurens, leaned forward, his voice hushed. “Do you mean how many people died?” He paused, observing Marcus’s weak nod. “A lot of people, boy. It’s hard to put an exact number on it. Too many. But like your sister—”

“Around a billion people died,” Martin interrupted, his voice detached. “Dead because of the events of the Great Impact when thousands of meteors struck Earth, or the subsequent consequences in the years that followed: starvation, flooding, lack of healthcare, Mana sickness and roaming monst—” His words faded into silence under the weight of his sister's sharp, disapproving gaze, a palpable tension settling over the room.

The mood remained like that for a while, only interrupted by the entrance of a nurse. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said in a polite tone, acknowledging the somber atmosphere. “The neurologist needs to examine Mr. Smit now, and after that, the Physical Therapists will want to go over and explain a few things. Alright?”

Martin and Laurens exchanged looks, their eyes briefly meeting Marcus’s before Joline spoke up. “Thank you,” she offered, directing her attention back to Marcus, as if sensing uncertainty. “Don’t worry, we’ll explain things over time. You just need to know that we’re not going anywhere.” Marcus nodded slowly, his movements strained and unfamiliar. He then stared up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face, as he went over his last memories of his father and mother. And as the weight of grief tightened around his heart, he felt a sense of incompleteness, as if a part of himself was missing.

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Copyright: OsiriumWrites