Ian was carefully lifted and carried into the steam chamber by medical staff.
He was now in the late stages of White Sleep Fever, and without treatment, he might not survive the night.
So the doctor had him sent into the steam chamber as part of the first group.
Ian was too weak to open his eyes, only vaguely hearing the chaotic footsteps and feeling himself being moved.
Was he already dead? Were they moving his corpse? He wondered.
Then something warm wrapped around his cold, stiff body.
The air was thick with steam, warmth seeping into his numb limbs like a tide.
Breathing became easier too.
"Hang in there! It will be okay soon!" someone shouted in his ear.
In his dazed consciousness, Ian felt like someone submerged in the ice lake, finally surfacing.
He felt his blood starting to circulate again, sensation returning to his fingertips.
Aching and painful, yet so real.
He struggled to open his eyes slightly.
What came into view was blurry steam and busy figures.
