Aaron awoke with a start as the very floor beneath him seemed to shift hard. Pain shoots through every muscle I his body as he attempts to sit up. Almost blacking out again he decides the better of attempting to stand. As he lays there he becomes keenly aware of several facts. He is not dead; he knows he should be dead. He finds himself lying on a very comfortable bed covered by very fine sheets staring at a nondescript ceiling.
His thoughts drift to the nature of his current situation. He shudders remembering with shocking vividness the fall from the night before. Suicide had seemed a much better idea when drunk. Finally regaining enough composure to become aware of his immediate surroundings he looks about him. The room is a smaller bedroom, but one which can only be described as very comfortable. He can't help but think that this is without a doubt the most pleasant place he has yet to wake up in after a drunken bender.
Again though his thoughts drift to the fact that he is not dead, and should be. He tries with some difficulty to recall the last several hours. The fall is as fresh in his mind as anything can be. After that all that he remembers is cold, cold and pain. The room moves again.
It occurs to Aaron that he is familiar with that movement, he is on a boat. Judging by the amount of movement and a decent knowledge of the Great Lakes into which he fell he knows it is a fairly large boat to move this little, perhaps seventy feet or so. Perhaps he was pulled out of the water by a Coast Guard cutter, or small private boat. The nature of the cabin to which he awoke convinces him that it must be a private boat.
Time to stand he resolves. Rolling to the side of the bed Aaron swings his legs over the side. The pain seems much less now then a few moments ago. As he moves the sheets fall away from him, revealing that he has been all but stripped. He looks about with more than a decent amount of urgency before spotting the remains of his uniform on a chair against the wall. Using the bed and wall for support he makes his way over to the chair and dons the tattered dress pants, there is not enough left of the shirt to be worth the effort. Before heading for the door he removes the medals from the front of the shirt. The Purple Heart he had won for his injury and the Silver Star he had won for his failure to avoid it. Without looking at either he places them in his pocket and glances about for his cane.
Remembering he had broken it he heads for the door. Leaning heavily on the wall he makes his way over to the door to the room. Aaron's mind still drifts over the last few hours, spent mostly unconscious. As he thinks over them an image appears in his mind with shocking clarity. He recalls a girl kneeling over him, this must be her boat. Well he supposed he owed her great thanks. If he is alive he owes her a great dept indeed, and if he is dead then this must be heaven. Either way he knew he wanted to find her. And he makes his way through the door and up onto the deck.
His thoughts drift to the nature of his current situation. He shudders remembering with shocking vividness the fall from the night before. Suicide had seemed a much better idea when drunk. Finally regaining enough composure to become aware of his immediate surroundings he looks about him. The room is a smaller bedroom, but one which can only be described as very comfortable. He can't help but think that this is without a doubt the most pleasant place he has yet to wake up in after a drunken bender.
Again though his thoughts drift to the fact that he is not dead, and should be. He tries with some difficulty to recall the last several hours. The fall is as fresh in his mind as anything can be. After that all that he remembers is cold, cold and pain. The room moves again.
It occurs to Aaron that he is familiar with that movement, he is on a boat. Judging by the amount of movement and a decent knowledge of the Great Lakes into which he fell he knows it is a fairly large boat to move this little, perhaps seventy feet or so. Perhaps he was pulled out of the water by a Coast Guard cutter, or small private boat. The nature of the cabin to which he awoke convinces him that it must be a private boat.
Time to stand he resolves. Rolling to the side of the bed Aaron swings his legs over the side. The pain seems much less now then a few moments ago. As he moves the sheets fall away from him, revealing that he has been all but stripped. He looks about with more than a decent amount of urgency before spotting the remains of his uniform on a chair against the wall. Using the bed and wall for support he makes his way over to the chair and dons the tattered dress pants, there is not enough left of the shirt to be worth the effort. Before heading for the door he removes the medals from the front of the shirt. The Purple Heart he had won for his injury and the Silver Star he had won for his failure to avoid it. Without looking at either he places them in his pocket and glances about for his cane.
Remembering he had broken it he heads for the door. Leaning heavily on the wall he makes his way over to the door to the room. Aaron's mind still drifts over the last few hours, spent mostly unconscious. As he thinks over them an image appears in his mind with shocking clarity. He recalls a girl kneeling over him, this must be her boat. Well he supposed he owed her great thanks. If he is alive he owes her a great dept indeed, and if he is dead then this must be heaven. Either way he knew he wanted to find her. And he makes his way through the door and up onto the deck.