11. Wheel of Hamster

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When Sam awakened, it was to the disturbing visage of the Tea Commando. The man sat on a stool and calmly sipped from a steaming tin cup, all the while staring at Sam as if he were an interesting bug that happened to fly in through the window.

If Sam hadn't been so groggy, he would have sat bolt upright in alarm. This was not the kind of person he wanted to wake up to, or have staring at him so intently while he slept.

Although, Sam grudgingly supposed, it was better than the pretty ladies.

With that grim reminder, he flopped his head over, letting his gaze roam around the room. It looked like a normal hospital room, if one ignored the big commando lurking in the corner. Relieved to see nothing strange, like abnormally pretty nurses, Sam let out a heavy sigh.

"I guess this isn't the spa anymore."

Tea paused, his cup poised halfway to his lips. He didn't say anything.

Sam took it that as a silent confirmation. Tea, he remembered, was quiet and reserved compared to Chip, so it was understandable that the man didn't want to speak up now, especially when the answer was something upsetting. And it would be upsetting because Sam had been entirely looking forward to his day at the spa, with breakfast in bed, free therapy from a real doctor, and the coziest of pajamas. It had started out really great.

Until the aliens came and ruined it all.

"Are they gone now?" Sam asked cautiously. He tried hard not to remember certain traumatizing events. Like exploding hands, detached hands, and that awful Heh Heh Heh. He shuddered.

Tea took a tiny sip of his tea. Then he mildly said, "Who?"

"The pretty ladies," Sam clarified, though he was sure to mouth the words, the aliens, to show that he was aware of the truth.

Everyone knew that aliens weren't supposed to be real, so it was better to keep it a secret. He didn't want the entire world to be in an uproar over it. It would be an absolute disaster. Children wouldn't sleep at night, fathers would have to stand guard by the windows 24/7 with their shotguns, and mothers would have to go shopping in groups just to keep each other safe. Even worse, people like the crazy bag lady would be entirely unpredictable. She'd either join forces with the aliens or create a rebel force out of all the bikers, bag ladies, old bums, and street urchins she could get her hands on.

Sam fully believed it – he'd seen how she operated, and while she looked harmless on the outside, she was made out of steel, spit, and gleeful cackles. She'd be a real menace.

"Those 'pretty ladies,'" Tea finally said, and something like distaste briefly flickered through his expression, "won't be bothering you anymore."

Sam shivered. He remembered all too clearly how they'd been shot up by the Chip Commando. But they were super tough - even without a head, they'd managed to keep chasing after him. Were they really gone?

A muffled thump came from somewhere outside the room. Sam jerked in surprise, his gaze flying to the closed door. "What was that?"

"Nothing to worry about." Tea peered into his mug, gently swirling the liquid inside. He seemed more concerned with the cup's contents than he was with the strange noise outside.

When seeing that, Sam felt reassured. If the Tea Commando wasn't worried, then perhaps it was just something mundane like a broom falling over or some guy in crutches stepping on a banana peel.

Sam sat up and immediately frowned. That spot on his chest still hurt. In fact, it felt even worse than it had before.

That prompted him to lift his hospital gown – which was a poor replacement for the cozy pajamas of before, he noted with dismay. He quickly forgot about that, because he saw immediately that the bandage was still there. There was also dark bruising around it.

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