fall damage

I feel quite a ways. On instinct, I wrapped my forearms around my broken head in a make-shift helmet and braced for impact. Then something very hard moving very fast annihilated me. I blinked out for a while, but not long enough to avoid the pain. For a time it was all there was and I figured I was going to die then. But I didn’t.

Eventually, the pain eased to something manageable and the world solidified again. I did a quick mental check. I appeared unbroken, outside of the hole in my skull. My bones are hard. And I can take a hell of a hit.

Outside the lighthouse, the storm raged. Every few heartbeats another concussion slammed the walls, followed a beat later by a clattering shower of ice shards as spray washed in the broken window above my head. I was too fucked to move out of the way.

I cracked open my eyes. It was almost pitch black. I was lying on something cold and hard. Stone. I tried pushing myself up but the moment I lifted my head the floor rolled as if I were still inside the helicopter. I went fetal, vomited once, then lay there holding onto my existence with everything I had. Over time, I regained some of myself again. I uncoiled and lifted my head the tiniest fraction. The ground stayed solid this time. I slipped a finger through the eye hole of my balaclava and ran it across the skin beneath my head wound.

A little blood might be ok. A lot would be very, very bad. I pulled my finger out and rubbed it on my thumb in the darkness. What little wetness there was froze instantly. That was good. The cold might keep me alive. Frozen blood was clotted blood.

I stayed curled on the floor and let my night vision settle in.
-Sledge vs. The Labyrinth, pg. 284-285