Carson dialed back slowly into her surroundings. There was light and there was pain, though considerably more of the former than the latter. As she climbed out of the dark well that was her unconsciousness, she had the odd nonsensical thought that she was living in a bowl of red Jell-o. The light had a certain red tinge to it, so that was part of the illusion, but she could talk herself into believing that her head had been crammed with the stuff as well. Hearing was muted and her sinuses felt as if they had been stuffed with cotton.

Closer to the mouth of the well the light grew brighter still and the buzzing drone of which she’d been barely aware fine-tuned itself into voices.

“ . . . any time now. I can’t say for certain, of course, but I don’t think—”

“I need to speak to her as soon as possible.”

Who? Who did they need to speak to? What was the urgency and why wouldn’t Man A allow Man B to do whatever the hell he wanted?

As the voices clarified, so did the pain. It was as bright and red and piercing as the light and, now, equally inescapable. It radiated from the base of her neck, down her right arm to the ends of her fingernails and inward toward her belly button. With that kind of pain, you’d think you’d have some idea where it came from. Maybe that’s what they wanted to talk to that other person about. Maybe she could tell them all why she felt as though she’d rolled in razor blades and swum in alcohol.

It was a terrible image, but something about it amused her. Razor blades and alcohol. Throw in a little fire to boot.

Fire.

There’d been a fire!

Jean-Marc. She had to warn him. He was in danger. She opened her mouth to scream, but the well wouldn’t let her. Not yet. Yelling as loudly as she could, all she could produce was a moan. Look out! she shrieked. But there was no sound.

“She’s stirring,” a voice said. “She’s waking up.”

Yes! Tell her about Jean-Marc. Warn him!

“Connie?”

Yes! I’m here!

“Connie, can you hear me?”

The light grew brighter still and some of the color drained away. Help me! I’m here! Pull me up! Jean-Marc is—

“She still out of it, Doc?” another voice asked. This one wasn’t as friendly. Wasn’t friendly at all, in fact.

“She’s coming to,” the first voice said. “Hello, Connie, I need you to wake up for me.”

Wake up. Wake up from what?

From the explosion.

Oh, Jesus, Jean-Marc was taken by the—

She returned to consciousness with a giant gasp. The sheer effort of it made her jump and the jumping added more alcohol to the razor blades. The light turned to white and surrounding the white, there was even more white.