Ardring - Chapter 3
#3 of Ardring
He woke up to bright, white walls, and something spinning above him. He moaned something, trying to piece together a word or two, and only coming up with strangled sounds and vibrations in his throat. There was warmth on his paw and he quickly stared in that direction. His vision became so sharp, he let out a sharp cry and clamped his eyes shut, only catching the figure out something. Someone.
He suddenly felt his paw cool, and heard padding. Thumping, really, accompanied by some sort of high pitched yelling. The thumping died, and suddenly came back in full force, as if a stampede was rolling through. He moaned again, the sounds hurting his ears, and he kept his eyes clamped shut. He could see light past his eyelids, and shadows would blot it out, and suddenly it would seem bright again. He was confused, and decided to just sit back, and not make any sudden movements.
Things always worked best for him when he never made any sudden movements.
"We don't know any of the possible outcomes of his..." The doctor trailed off, as if trying to find the proper word. He was a tabby cat, short and plump. He pushed up some glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, and just sighed. "Exposure to the contaminant. From what we have seen from what testing is possible with our equipment, there isn't any harmful physical, or mental change. He does have a pigmentation discolouration in his iris."
"I see." Zerrif's father said. He stroked his whiskers, which were long and slightly curled downwards at the end from their weight and length. He was short, and dark brown, the root where most of the Astaire children had gotten their dark brown fur-- but Zerrif didn't get it. He was dressed in a pair of overalls, and his white shirt was caked with dust from the quick ride back to the farm after they'd seen the first explosion. "The only choice is to then--"
"We can't." Zerrif's mother interjected. She was a creamy colour, but somewhere in her family line had been golden brown. That's where Zerrif got that from. She had on a pair of jeans, and a yellowish blouse, with flower patterns all over it and a gardening hat on her head."He hasn't been eased into the world--"
"There's no choice." The doctor cut her off. It was like the three of them shared one hive mind, and didn't need to hear full sentences to understand where the conversation was going. "If he stays here, there is no telling what will happen. To him, to you, to the community. Once the strain is found..."
"He's awake!" A young, trembling voice shouted. Craig came dashing down the hall at the three adults. They didn't have any more time.
"M-Mom...?" Zerrif mumbled. He'd somehow blacked out after the stampede of thumping that seemed to echo in his head relentlessly. He could see the faint outline of her had, see her shape, that yellow shirt that he loved so much ever since he had bought it for her with his first allowance...
"Shhh, you need to rest, babe." She said. She started to caress Zerrif's face, matting down his fur and his hair. "Listen. Mom and Dad need you to be strong, and just listen, okay? We have a lot to tell you, and so very little time." She sat Zerrif up and started to caress him. Here, he could see that his father was in the room as well, and so were Daemeon and Stella. He didn't understand.
"You have to leave the farm. The town." His father said gruffly. He had that tone that he had when the children were being back, and he was being strict. Serious. Telling them something important. Zerrif opened his mouth to speak but his father only raised a paw to hush him. "There's a world completely and utterly different from ours. Stella and Daemeon have seen it." He added. Zerrif looked to his two siblings, who only nodded. Vision sharpened more, and suddenly he could make out the room. The plant in the corner, on that ugly looking table. Beside the phone. With the glass of water. Ugh, he hated how much detail he saw.
"What we live in, Zer, it's all a lie." Daemeon interjected. All eyes turned on the eldest sibling. "You'll understand once you see. But you have to know that we're only acting so fast because you need help."
"Help?" Zerrif asked, rubbing his eyes. They itched. They burned. His mother swatted his paw away, as if it were a bad habit, and he just itched them again. "You mean... the explosion?" Stella broke into tears at that point. Daemeon just reached over and started consoling her.
"There are people who can find out what it did to you, Zerrif. People that will help you. But don't just walk around blindly, you hear me?" His father said. He didn't understand. Walk blindly? He could still see. "Don't let people use you. Abuse you. There are a lot of unjustices out there in the city--"
"The city?!" Zerrif shouted. He had never gone to the city. 15 years old, and he realized he only barely knew that a city existed; but from the highest hill on the farms all he could see was rolling grass in every direction.
"Yes. The city. But be warned. We won't be going with you. You'll have to tough this out on your own. You'll come to learn why." His father said. Zerrif gulped. That wasn't as exciting as he thought beforehand. 15, going to a place he never knew, and for God only knew how long? It didn't sound like he'd be coming back anytime soon. At least, with the way they had to suddenly talk to him like this, minimum explanation and maximum seriousness, he was confused. But he was getting the picture. He was leaving, with no real point of coming back in sight. By himself, to boot.
"The hospital will transport you there. For now, Zerrif, just sleep." His mother said, at his side. And suddenly, he felt heavy. He lay back in the bed, only noticing now that it felt so comfortable to just lay back. He wished he had a bed like this back on the farm. Snuggling into the mattress and covers, he murred as he soon fell asleep.
"Theodore, I still don't feel right about this..."
"Marina, you know this is the only way."
"I know, but he's still my son! He's still my baby! Your, our flesh and blood!"
"It was just meant to be..."
"..."