Timelines Collide

Chapter 8: The Shadows of Home

Oh boy, how the days have lost their perception of time while melting in God's hands is beyond me. His angels provide defense, filling my aching body with imagery of peaceful grass and singing seas that were thought only achievable by slumber. 

A place where every sane man would want to leave. In the end, something in me is sane enough to bring me back.

A bright light above forces my eyes to adjust, however, my eyes don't need to stabilize to know where I am. The number of tables, the row of receiver beds, and God's little angels hovering above them all. 

I previously witnessed many of these angels come and go sometimes taking my friends with them. Sadly, this place is still surrounded by shadows that welcome me back home.

"Look who's finally awake." A voice says, making the hairs on my arms slither their way up my skin.

I wobble my head from left to right slapping my brain over and over until a picture is surreal. The visualizations are dead giveaways. Even still I ask hesitantly

"Lisa is that you?"

The shadows respond, "In the flesh my good confidant."

My ears detect the voice of a familiar modulator, only if they spoke with a lateral lisp, and a hint of gruff. Almost like the Grim Reaper itself, she emerges from the shadows, jumping out from a table. Still sporting the white double-breasted tunic with gold cufflinks, buttons, and shoulder pads to match. Only covered by her short shaggy brown hair.

The darkness from the shadows still follows her hands, even in full view. One holds a clipboard while the other carries a step stool. The closer she gets, the sight of a clotting smirk on her face becomes clear. 

The taunt that only people from a certain clink would understand. A clink from what I know has its youngest member at nine years old.

Nonetheless, it stays stationary as her tiny legs swing back and forth like a swing dancing in the wind from the step stool. Her mirroring eyes take moments to glare down at me, only to return seconds later to the safety behind her clipboard, just like a certain dead Buzzard would do.

"How are you feeling Joseph?" She asks as if I were dead.

"Well, I think fine," my body lags, "Is a good sense of the word."

Almost like she can see into my muscles that want movement so badly, her next words keep them below freezing point.

"I wouldn't be so hasty if I were you. It took me two days to get you stabilized and I wish you wouldn't ruin such hard work."

"Wait, I 've been out for two days!?" The music orchestra inside my body starts to play the song of pain. A tone I'm greatly familiar with. Until the back starts to go off-key causing me to grunt.

"I'd warned you, otherwise correction, you were out for three days."

The snarkiest in her voice phases within like a ghost that never possesses me. The only thing to show for it is the daunting look Lisa witnesses in my eyes.

Like a doctor diagnosing her patient, she gives the summary of "Don't worry you didn't miss much." Her body exhales, stopping her for a moment. "Things have been pretty tiresome around here while you were out." 

At least my brain has something to feast upon, though one thing still pecks at its tastebuds.

"Where's Heavy?!" I ask, surprisingly due to the fact that it took me this long to ask about him. My eyes ran around trying to find his healing body but comes up empty.

"For starters, we have Heavy in another room. He requires more stitches within my personal quarters to fix his injury. Hardcase watches over him. You just missed him too. He came to check up on you earlier. And well, for the other question you're probably thinking about, let's just say you were quite lucky. A hover that Lincoln called for you two arrived right before the bots and acolytes swarmed in response to that trip mine."