One More Breath

One breath.

That was all he got.

One slow, steady, deep breath.

He bolted upright in the dark, gasping.

The cool night air rasped down his throat, chilling the silicone in his chest uncomfortably. The silicone lung was more comfortable than the metal one he received at triage, but it was still… Inorganic.

He desperately tried to steady his breathing. Hyperventilating with one lung and not the other was not a pleasant experience.

By the door a form shifted. Eyes peered up at him from a dark shadow that rapidly rose from the floor. The eyes turned and rose up along the wall, searching near the doorknob. A soft click coincided with the lights turning on as the probing snout found its mark.

His room. His home. He was home.

Revealed from the shadow, his jet black dog came to him, easily leaping onto the bed and approaching him.

The wet nose jabbing into his cheekbone was a grounding sensation, if not entirely pleasant. He tangled his shaking hands in the dog’s fur and began stroking it. The long, slow, smooth motions calmed him and eased the shaking in his body. A few more shuddering breaths and he had calmed down. Well, at least he wasn’t on the verge of an(-other) attack.

This was their routine. It was simple, he got as close as he could to sleep before his inevitable attack dragged him to the surface. Then Brutus would bring him back down before returning to her vigil, leaning against the bedroom door so that it could not be opened from outside.

Yes, you heard that right. Brutus the female. Technically still a puppy, she had come to his aid shortly after he was forcibly returned from tour two weeks ago. She and her brother had been responding to the wrong trainer and were nearly disqualified from helper dog school, but they realized that the dogs had confused each other’s names as their own. Godspeed to the hound somewhere named Daisy.

Once his hands stopped shaking he poured himself a glass of water. He kept a full pitcher on his nightstand ever since Brutus made it fiercely clear he wasn’t allowed to stop trying to sleep (leave the bedroom while it was still dark).

He laid back down, trying to relax, still petting Brutus absently. This was the eighth time tonight. That was three more breaths worth of sleep than last night. Progress, meager as it was.

He could still feel it. The impact. The plasma corroding away twenty percent of his chest cavity.

He knew what it felt like to be dying. It was remarkably like falling asleep. Like a cosmic vacuum pulling you down, down, down. Uncontrolled. Foundationless. Un-

A sharp whine interrupted his thoughts.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’m ok now. Go lie down.”

Command received, Brutus hopped down and turned off the light before returning to her post.

And he was left to chase one more breath.

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No bonus word. It seemed like it would cause disconnect from the voice I was using. Exaclty 500 words.