"Wake up, Rhett." A voice spoke above him.
The words sliced through the suffocating darkness like a blade, dragging him from the depths of a nightmare that clung to his consciousness like tar. Immediately, Rhett's field of vision changed—not the gradual swim of natural awakening, but a violent snap that felt like being yanked through dimensions. The transition was so jarring it nearly made him pass out as his eyes struggled to adjust to the new reality.
"Huh?" Rhett forced out unconsciously, the word scraping against his throat like sandpaper.
For one, it was still dark. He could tell the sun was just bleeding on the horizon, painting the sky in sickly amber streaks, so it was probably close to 6 AM. The air tasted of ash and something metallic that made his tongue recoil.
