Zillis remembered, and, held a grudge. He’d given Travis every rotten job that his position would allow him. He’d gotten Travis to start drinking again. Kimmy got upset, but Travis never drank at home, and was very conscious of his actions. Zillis was still his boss. Robert had tried to get him fired twice, but after Robert’s boss called him on a writeup, he settled for just making certain Travis got all the deadbeats and castoffs on his shift. No one worked, and those that didn’t got written up and fired. Travis needed the job too much. He hated it to his soul, but needed the money for Kim.
I wonder how Kimmy is? Harry stabbed the two tubes deep into the slashes, then spit on him as he turned on the machine. The blackish red sludge glopped into the tank as Harry turned to stare out the window. When the machine’s light flashed, he flipped the switch and pumped the embalming fluid into him. There was the faintest burning sensation on his skin as he watched this, and then the vision abruptly ended like a light being turned off. The suddenness of the change disoriented him, and Travis dropped to one knee, waiting for his head to clear. This gave him a good look at the inside of his thigh. A long, deep wound ran across the inside. Fear spiked through him as he recalled the vision. I can’t be dead. This is a dream! It’s a dream! I’m going to wake up and Kimmy will be there in bed with me. We’ll eat breakfast and I’ll go to work later! I’ve got to wake up!
‘You are awake, Travis.’ the wall spelled out in dark yellow-brown letters. ‘You died. You’re dead. Either get with the program or someone else will be picked as the Jiminy.’ The last part raised Travis hackles. “Oh yeah! I ain’t dead!” ‘Oh yes you are.’ There wasn’t a warning. The floor of the room disappeared, and he fell. He could feel chains begin to form on him, burning his skin and hooking deep into his body, and onto something more precious. A complete grey fog surrounded him. The sensation was disorienting. No up, no down, no reference of any kind, just a grey emptiness that seemed linked to the chains that got ever heavier and suffocating. It felt like clammy hands all over him. He tried to scream but the grey turned dark and swallowed him.
Just as suddenly, the sensation was gone, and he was back in the grey room, curled in a fetal ball on the floor. What the hell was that?! He didn’t want to think about it. Even as he asked the question, he knew with an absolute certainty what he’d just experienced, and was willing to do anything to avoid it. There was no way he’d ever go back there again. The reality crashed down on him like a breaking wave. he remained on his side, shivering, gasping for breath that didn’t come, and crying tears that never formed. The wall screen remained a deep greyish blue. It didn’t feel smarmy or laced with attitude any more. It felt watchful, concerned. “I…I’m really dead, aren’t I.” The wall flickered through a few dark colors of brown red and blue. ‘Yes, you are. You didn’t survive the trip to the hospital.’