Chapter 20: Micky
‘I’m not calling you that. How about Micky?’
‘Suit yourself. I doubt we’ll survive in this state for very long anyway.’
Various senses assaulted Percy, from the external ones such as the thick odours of moss and excrement, to the internal ones like his chest heaving up and down, or the cold numbness of narrowly-missed death crawling along his limbs. His body felt unfamiliar, plus he wasn’t in control. He could try taking over – if he really wanted – but he’d promised not to. Besides, their soul wouldn’t take another round of infighting.
DRIP
Micky blinked as a drop landed in his eye. When he next opened it, Percy paid more attention to their surroundings. It was dark, the only source of light being the fluttering flame of a mounted torch somewhere in the distance. They were in a closed space that looked a bit like a cave, only one side covered in thick metallic bars. He recognized this place! It was the cell from Micky’s memories!
‘Is this where you live?’
‘It is. For the latter half of my life at least. And the first part of my afterlife too, it seems.’
Percy felt a pang of amusement seep through their connection. Then, his host stood up, the pain making both of them wince. That was when the young man remembered their body was a mess.
‘Fuck. Dying isn’t a joke.’