They slipped into the room without warning, drawing a gust of cool air into the chamber- into his four walls, one ceiling, and one floor of baking and sticky and sluggish emptiness. A breeze of fresh baked bread- he remembered eating, once- but also briefly smoke and ash. Matt froze from lying with one ear pressed against the gritty floor.
Clacking footsteps leading down the hall to his confinement echoed up until their halt before a door opened from elsewhere, the beyond. With a swish of fabric- he once wore more than a single itchy gown, before- a heavy form tumbled onto the concrete with a hard smack, and then silence. The air within the room cooled. Outside, he heard a low distant hum.
Something said, “Check to see it it’s still breathing,” and slammed the door.
Matt lay still for a moment, frozen, palms curled against the ground. No sound. No movement. He rose to his knees and crawled toward the source of the noise. His heart thudded against his ribcage. Blood pounded in his ears. This was new. With one clawed hand, he reached out slowly and fanned out across the space- one, two, three paces. And eventually, he found them.
And them was really nem. And ne breathed softly against his hand, once he found nir face. Alive. Barely moving. Breathing, though. Through soft squishy flesh and long curls of… skin? Matt drew his hand away sharply.
Still, he shifted closer and closer until the scent of smoke and ash returned, filled his lungs, coated his throat in a tight squeeze. He gasped and choked and clutched the soft fabric ne wore, squeezing the flesh beneath with both clawed hands.
Matt could not stop shuddering as fire engulfed his senses, chilled his hands, crushed his chest. He coughed and squeezed until copper scented the air. He choked out blood. He released with wet fingers. Sand spilled out between their touch onto the floor, and for the first time, for just a moment, he thought he saw it. Honest and true. Red.
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