[The message tears him from a dream-tossed sleep full of sterile rooms and medical instruments, of the anguished moans of stricken creatures who could barely be classified as men, and he has to bite the inside of his lips to keep from crying out. Quietly, Wade rises to a sitting position on the edge of the meager little cot, struggling to get his breathing under control and his heart rate settled.
It takes a few seconds before he's able to regain control of himself enough to send a reply.]
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It takes a few seconds before he's able to regain control of himself enough to send a reply.]
I'm here.