“Release…pressure,” he whispered, as if testing each sound. Then the effort drained him, and his eyes slid shut again. The monitors steadied. Helen exhaled, half in frustration, half in awe. The warning, if that’s what it was, remained locked inside syllables that refused to cooperate.
Outside, thunder rolled over the city, faint but continuous. Helen sat beside his bed long after her shift ended, staring at the slow pulse line on the monitor. Machines hummed around them, a man-made echo of a deeper vibration she couldn’t yet name.