Sterling's eyes cracked open to a room that tilted sickeningly sideways. The ceiling fan overhead spun in lazy circles, each rotation sending fresh waves of nausea through his gut. His mouth tasted like he'd been chewing on dirt mixed with bitter almonds, and his skull felt three sizes too small for his brain.
He tried to sit up. Failed. Tried again, this time managing to prop himself on one elbow. The living room swam into focus, the empty chairs, discarded teacups, and Rajesh face-down on the dining table like a corpse.
"Rajesh." His voice came out as a croak. "Rajesh!"
No response.
Sterling forced himself upright, his body screaming in protest. Every muscle felt loose, disconnected, as if someone had unscrewed all his joints and reassembled him wrong. He staggered to the table, grabbed Rajesh's shoulder, and shook.
"Wake up, damn it."
Rajesh groaned, a low, rough sound, but didn't lift his head.
