The last thing Tom remembered was walking away from the mine into the woods. The blood was on his pick-axe and he felt for the first time...complete.
Whole.
So waking up in a bedroom with sheets was enough to throw him. The fabric is crumpled beneath his heavy work suit. Sitting up straight, he looked to the right and to the left before climbing on the bed.
Someone had at least had the decency to leave him his clothes. There was a faint sound in his head like screaming, begging Sarah! Sarah! help! someone-
He ignored it, zipped his coveralls all the way up and stopped. They were gone, his essentials, his tools his-
There. There Harry Warden's heart began to beat. Tom's started a little slower. There, against the door.
His helmet. (can't get hurt), his mask (dangerous, to be in the mines), and his..his..
He crossed the room swiftly and slipped each one on, one after another before carefully, cautiously opening the door. Upon realizing there was no one there, he strode out fully. Breathing heavily through his ventilator, he turned right and left-looking for signs of life.