Seeing Sean by Patrick Doyle

Author:Patrick Doyle [Doyle, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-21T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The world stopped. Wyatt, too, came to a halt. Bolt upright with his arms pinned, he stared straight ahead but saw nothing. The light was too fierce. Strangely, the glare didn’t hurt his eyes. But he hurt bad everwhere else. As if being squeezed through a funnel, his body screamed. From head to toe, the pressure crushed him. Then a trembling set in and he began to vibrate like a tuning fork. He could hear the hum. Opening his mouth, he went to yell but his lungs were empty. With all his might, he fought back but the grip holding him was too tight.

An object came into view. An eye, only one, was suddenly facing his. Large and grey, it stared without blinking. Then, as if slowing down — although he had no sensation of movement — he watched in horror as the eye pulled back and split in two. Suddenly, a mouth appeared and collided with his own. Unable to stop the incoming air, he sucked it in until his lungs were full. Breathing out, he breathed in again. Only then did the pressure ease up and the heat give way.

Now he was lying face down. At first, he was relieved. Then the pain returned. His flesh was on fire. He could smell the burn. But with his arms still locked into place by his side he couldn’t tell where or how badly. Unable to turn over, he lay there breathing with perfectly healthy lungs. If he’d been in a fire they would have been burned?

Then he felt a pair of hands on his back. Starting at his scalp, they slid down his neck to his shoulders where pushing hard, they stroked right down to the base of his spine. Then they made their way back up again where, stopping at his neck, they massaged with deep and careful strokes. Over and over again, the hands followed the same trajectory and after each run, Wyatt felt the pain diminish. The hands, though, stayed. Large palms, thick fingers. He knew those hands.

“Sean?”

“Yes, Wyatt.”

“What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine now.”

Sean was sitting on Wyatt’s backside with his hands massaging away the pain. Closing his eyes, Wyatt gave himself up to the sensual strokes. There was a breeze wafting in and, breathing in the warm air, he exhaled at Sean’s every stroke. He knew he’d been through something, but for the life of him couldn’t remember what. He felt good, though, almost too good, as if he’d inhaled something very good indeed. When Sean spoke again, his words floated down like drifting leaves.

“Does anything hurt?”

Craning back his head, Wyatt sought Sean’s face, but lying face-down made the move impossible. Dying to confirm that he felt wonderful, he freed his arms, propped himself up on one elbow, and leaned back for a better view. He didn’t get it. The face was long and the eye milky. But it was the smile that rocked him. Thin and mirthless, it drew a crooked line across a crooked face.

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