A Passing Feeling

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He’s running, always running, and he never gets tired. And something in the back of his mind is telling him that that’s wrong, but the doesn’t listen because he can’t stop, he has to find Patrick. He doesn’t know who or where he is, or even who Patrick is, but he knows he has to find him, whoever he is.

So he runs.

And sometimes when he runs, he hears the echo of sirens behind him. And sometimes he sees red and blue lights flashing off the stone walls up ahead in the darkness just around the corner, the beep of a machine echoing in his ears. But when he reaches where the lights were, there’s nothing.

And there’s something wrong. The primal, savage part of this mind knows that. But the rest is shouting ‘Patrick’ and making his muscles move.

He runs through corridors that never end and looks for Patrick.

And somewhere else in a white, sterile room, Patrick clutches Jon’s hand and squeezes in time to the beep of the failing heart monitor.