Page 113 of Anchor
Sometime past midnight, she whispered, “You know what’s worse than you being gone?”
Silence. “Watching you vanish one hour at a time.” She blinked once, twice, eyes dry.
She hadn’t cried in days. Not because she wasn’t breaking. Just… because it wasn’t productive. She closed her eyes and finally slept.
ROOM 218 – 0700 HOURS
Claire woke to a gentle chime. Soft tones were designed to stir, not jar. Reid hadn’t moved, but the room was already beginning to fill. Seth Brady entered first, coffee in one hand, tea for her and a tablet under his arm. His posture said he’d been up for hours. After handing her the tea, he checked vitals by hand without further commentary.
A moment later,Dr. Sita Malek arrived. She was Reid’s new neurologist, petite and precise, with sharp eyes and gray streaks in her dark braid. She was calm but purposeful. “We begin light stimulation today,” she said. “We’ll start with touch, voice, and scent.”
Claire stood beside the bed. “I’m doing it.”
Sita gave her a small nod. “We were hoping you would.”
Claire sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand. She’d done this a thousand times in the ICU. But now, it was meant toprovoke a response. She leaned close to his ear. “Reid Hanlon,” she said softly. “Wake up.”
Sita made notes. Seth watched carefully, still and alert.
Claire brushed her fingers down his arm, behind the ear and along his shoulder. She spoke again. “This is Claire. You're safe. You’re in Denver. Tuck's here. We moved mountains to bring you here. Now you have to show us you're still inside.”
No reaction.
Claire didn’t stop. She took a vial from her bag, his cologne. Subtle, peppery, clean and mineral. She held it close to his nose and waited.
Sita leaned forward. Checked eye movement.
Nothing.
“Don’t stop,” she said quietly.
Claire leaned closer, forehead nearly touching Reid’s. “You are not allowed to go quiet. Not you, not like this. If you even know my name, give me anything.”
Still nothing.
Seth wrote a note. “No response yet, but we repeat every hour. Sensory input builds. If he’s in there, we’ll find the thread.”
Claire nodded but didn’t move. She stayed right there beside him, holding his hand. Waiting.
IN THE DARK – SAME TIME
There was no body. There was no time. There was only pressure, like being buried in the floor of a silent ocean. He didn’t knowwhat he was. Didn’t know if he was even real. But he could feel something.
Heat, faint, along his left side. Just… warmth where there had been only cold. A sound came from far off. Muffled, like hearing a conversation through concrete. "...Denver..."
There was a pulse that wasn’t the mechanical kind. It was something inside him, ancient and familiar. He drifted, then there was another sound. Closer. A woman’s voice calling his name. “Reid Hanlon.”
The sound hurt but not in a bad way. Like the way light hurts when you open your eyes after too long in the dark. Then a touch. Something gliding across his arm. Pressure behind his ear. A hand over his. He felt his fingers like they were made of fog. But the hand was real.
“You’re safe,” the voice came again. He didn’t know her name. But her voice mattered. It pulled.
Another sensation struck him. His nose flared. Pepper. Salt. Clean air. Home. The smell slammed into him like a memory he hadn’t earned. His chest ached with it.
Want.
He wanted to speak. To move. To touch back. But he couldn’t find his limbs. Couldn’t find his mouth. He was buried in something heavy and thick and alive.
“Give me anything.” Breath warm against his cheek.
