Reflection From the Abyss - Prologue

The room smelled of cordite, dust, sweat and blood, and would have been dead-quiet but for the sound of short, clipped breaths. Motes of paint and plaster still hung in the air, some coming to rest on the surface of the once-polished conference room table. The pools of blood that saturated the carpet moved slowly outward, darkening new rows of fiber in its advance.

His eyes snapping open was joined by a sharp, deep inhalation. His body jerked slightly as the florescent light from above bored into his head. When the wave of searing pain hit, he released a loud groan that no one heard.

The building was empty. The offices were empty. The cubicles were empty. The only room that was occupied was the conference room. Aside from him the dead eyes that stared back at him were beyond listening.

Must have dozed off. He chuckled softly. Dozed off? Passed out!

He looked down and winced. The open wounds in his stomach still seeped rivulets of blood; part of his intestine pushed against one of the ragged holes. His grimace was also due to the hot/cold pain coming from the wound in his shoulder. He began to question why the exit wounds in his back didn’t hurt, then quickly pushed that thought away, not ready for the answer. The fact that he couldn’t feel anything below his waist did not escape him; he chose not to dwell on that topic either. He turned his attention to the eyes that seemed to stare through him. He felt a warm tear run down his cheek.

It didn’t have to end like this, he thought.

He slowly rested his head back against the doorframe.

Yes it did, he answered. It was one of the possible results.

He looked up at the lights.

Did they get brighter?

It took a few moments for him to realize that the pain in his shoulder and stomach had ended. When he did, he glanced at the lifeless form across from him, then back up at the ceiling’s lights.

Yeah, he thought. They’re brighter.

His eyelids drooped and slowly closed. His breathing became more shallow and choppy. His body relaxed and began to slide down the doorframe. His focus became the lifeless eyes in front of him and soon they began mirror its origin.

A small voice in his mind, softer than a whisper, asked Why?

His eyelids slowly parted and his gaze locked on a spot above and in front of him. His eyes were strong. His eyes were alive. He smiled slightly and nodded as if to say Oh. I see. Because . . .

He remembered.