With a robe - pink satin, but at least it covers her legs to the calf - pulled tight around her, she can try to make herself breathe. The rest of the room comes more into focus. It looks like something out of an old TV show to her, like maybe the set of I Love Lucy lasted all the way past the turn without being pulled apart by studio people or overrun by walkers. Matching beds and dressers and endtables, a window that looks out on what seems like a backyard. And beside Eason's bed, a wheelchair made of metal and leather, with handles on the back for pushing it around.
Everything's clean, and it all looks well-made. It's the closest thing to normal that she's seen in a long time, but it's a fake normal, something imaginary. There must be walls somewhere, keeping the dead out.
Between them, the puppy runs toward him and then toward her, wanting attention and uncertain who's most likely to provide it. (Beth. The answer is probably Beth, inveterate dog-lover - once she can get her heart to stop racing, anyway.)
Nothing Eason makes sense until something finally clicks for him. Transport docks, atmosphere, someplace called Bes - it doesn't even register as sounding like science fiction, it just sounds like gibberish. But she can see the moment he realizes just how screwed-up everything is, and somehow, that's reassuring. It doesn't feel like acting. "I don't know. I was in a hospital."
There's still a cast on one of her arms, and two stitched-up cuts around her eyes - they took her away from Grady and dressed her in someone else's clothes, but not much else has changed. After a moment - because he gave her his name, because the look on his face isn't too far from how she feels - she adds, "I'm Beth."
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Everything's clean, and it all looks well-made. It's the closest thing to normal that she's seen in a long time, but it's a fake normal, something imaginary. There must be walls somewhere, keeping the dead out.
Between them, the puppy runs toward him and then toward her, wanting attention and uncertain who's most likely to provide it. (Beth. The answer is probably Beth, inveterate dog-lover - once she can get her heart to stop racing, anyway.)
Nothing Eason makes sense until something finally clicks for him. Transport docks, atmosphere, someplace called Bes - it doesn't even register as sounding like science fiction, it just sounds like gibberish. But she can see the moment he realizes just how screwed-up everything is, and somehow, that's reassuring. It doesn't feel like acting. "I don't know. I was in a hospital."
There's still a cast on one of her arms, and two stitched-up cuts around her eyes - they took her away from Grady and dressed her in someone else's clothes, but not much else has changed. After a moment - because he gave her his name, because the look on his face isn't too far from how she feels - she adds, "I'm Beth."