He'd been drifting again, not quite in that dismal almost-sleep that he'd found earlier, but... maybe dozing at the edges of it. The TV was still on, and someone in a helicopter was chasing a train, and also displaying a reckless disregard for basic physics. Andy would have changed the channel if he could, but the remote was out of reach and he was still strapped down. He'd lost track of the plot some while back, regardless...
Something nudged at the edges of his awareness. There was someone nearby, unknown but strangely familiar, coming closer. A wave of dread swept over him, and he thought, Oh, shit.
He forced his eyes all the way open, looked around, and then thought, Oh, shit, again. He hadn't been dreaming it. There was definitely something nearby, outside the hospital but working its way towards him. "Nurse?" he called.
Nobody answered. Of course they didn't. He tugged at his bonds. "Steve?"
Still nothing. He sighed. Could he trigger the alarm for his mental activity somehow? No, that must have been a one-time thing, or it would already have picked up on his distress. There was a call button for the nurse, but his restraints kept it out of reach as well.
Okay. Steve said wights had claws, so in theory I have claws. Or I can have claws.
He considered his fingers, then flexed his hands. I hope so, anyway. If it was his murderer that he was sensing, he wanted nothing to do with it. He needed to be able to escape. Come on... The shift was sudden, the transformation unfamiliar but unmistakable. Long, slightly-curved claws slid out from his fingertips, firmly anchoring themselves in a way that fingernails weren't, and he curled his fingers in and began working at the heavy leather bands around his wrists.
They parted with surprising ease, and he moved to the strap that held his hips down; it parted easily as well. The collar around his neck was chained to the bed on either side, but he worked a claw under it and sawed at it until it parted. The restraints around his ankles were last to go.
He was already sitting up; it was a minor effort to slip over the bed rails and put his feet on the floor. The hospital gown gaped open in the back, reinforcing the absurdity of his entire situation, but he forced his new-found claws back and scooped Steve's card up from the metal table. He needed to find help, or he needed a way out, and whichever he could find, he needed it now.
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