--

  “Ron, honey, it’s time to get up,” she murmured into his back. He knew she was right, he had work today, but her warmth pressing into him was just… comfortable. He didn’t want to lose it again.

  “Ron, wake up.” She said it louder this time, but he still didn’t want to. Instead, he mumbled something incoherent and pushed the covers down. It was a little too warm.

  --

  “RON! WAKE UP!” Allan called.

  Ron gasped awake, and his eyes flew open to bright lights. He tried to take a deep breath, but grimaced at the sudden pain in his side. He looked down and saw a small pool of blood gathering underneath him. Above it was a length of thin copper piping that had speared through his back and into the floor of the somnibay, leaving him stuck to the ground.

  Shit… The window! Ron whipped his head around to look towards the window, and a spike of pain tore at his head. His vision blurred and the edges of it faded to black, threatening a loss of consciousness. Ohhh… “fuck…” he swore, slurring the word. When the pain subsided and his vision sharpened, he saw the gray emergency shutters had closed over the glass, and he turned his attention back to the piping.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “…Ron! Ron, can you hear me? Can you hear me, Ron…” Allan’s voice faded in and out of Ron’s mind.

  …never heard him so… desperate… before… Ron thought, and his eyes started to droop.

  “RON! DON’T GO TO SLEEP! THE HABITAT HAS BEEN BREACHED AND IT’S LOSING PRESSURE!” Allan’s voice screamed through the speakers.

  …stay… awake… Ron thought, …but… how…?

  “RON! YOU CAN’T DIE HERE, NOT YET!” Allan called. For a second, the shout almost seemed to work. Allan watched as Ron slowly lifted a hand, then yelled as the man brought it down to his stomach, “RON! DON’T PULL THE PIPE OUT, YOU’LL LOSE TOO MUCH BLOOD!”

  But that didn’t stop him--he wasn’t going to pull the pipe out in the first place. Ron carefully placed a finger on the edge of his wound, then howled as he forced the digit into his flesh. He pushed and screamed and pushed again as pain like none he’d ever experienced tore through his stomach, then he brought his other arm up and wrenched the pipe out of the ground with all his might, toppling himself over while the copper tore against the concrete.

  “Allan,” Ron whispered breathlessly, “how long has it been since the beginning of the flare?”

  [5] hours and [58] minutes