Up to that point, Charlie hadn’t encountered a single disadvantage.
At least thirty minutes passed with the men recalling times gone by when they’d been alive and part of the world. The sun was drawing closer to the horizon. The storm outside had abated. Only as he noticed the wind dying down and the silence left in the wake of the rain clouds departing did Charlie feel weary. Though it wasn’t the usual tiredness he’d felt at the end of a hard day at work. This was different. Deeper. He felt it in every part of him. Oppressive. Heavy. Weighing him down.
“What’s happening?” he asked, hearing the note of fear in his voice.
“I-I don’t know,” Ellis replied. “I feel so weak. I can’t move.”
Charlie closed his eyes and oblivion washed over him.
* * * *
When next he awoke, there was a storm raging outside. It was winter and to be expected, though the storms this year seemed more ferocious and longer-lasting.
Ellis was already awake, dressed and standing by the window.