The Reanimation of Edward Schuett

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All of his nerve endings started working again at the same moment, and for the first time in over fifty years Edward Schuett tried to scream. He failed. There were not enough of his vocal cords back in his throat yet.

Eventually, the pain became so strong that he nearly passed out, and as he lay on the floor the agony became a sort of background noise while he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was in someplace dark, someplace cavernous. As he thrashed about he occasionally felt his limbs smack various things strewn about him, but he didn’t yet have the presence of mind to wonder what any of these stray objects might be. The debris he sent skittering away made echoing noises, but he couldn’t yet begin to guess where he might be or what he was doing here, or even who he was. These questions occurred to him on some level, but he didn’t have the concentration yet to dwell on them.

The pain didn’t go away completely, but it receded enough that he was able to feel other sensations. He felt heat, an uncomfortable warmth just below the skin that coursed through his entire body. There was an alien thumping sensation in his chest, and his ribcage moved uncontrollably up and down to force air in and out through his mouth and nose. He couldn’t remember at first what these things were, and fear passed through his mind for a moment before he remembered them from the past, from some distant moment he couldn’t think clearly on. This was a heartbeat. This was breathing. These were things he was supposed to do, and the realization came to him that for the longest time he hadn’t done either.

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