Avalanche!
、小さいもの死んではいけない! 絶望的な救助試みの破片
In a horrific accident, things begin to spiral downwards for the Hamatos as Splinter pulls his four year old sons from a sewer cave in. Alive, but desperately injured, the turtles are locked in a coma.....and a desperate father is losing time fast.....
A hand slowly tightened around his cloak's hood. A bell was dimly clanging in the background from a nearby chapel, announcing the hour before the notes finally died away.
The wind whipped about restlessly from the iron bell, making a hollow, somewhat empty ring to accompany the silence after the echoes had ceased.
Delicate, thin, but still blinding if you looked up at the sky for too long a time-snowflakes were drifting down, and people on the streets of New York were noticing. Children
peered anxiously out the window, with frantic pleas for the snow to not cease-seeing as tomorrow was a school day. Adults made mental notes to have their winter clothing
prepared, and people outside were either hurrying for the safety of a warm nearby car or building.
Or simply bustling to get home.
The figure with the cloak was hastening to get home-but not due to the extreme, rather frigid temperature.
His nerves had been constantly frayed since he had reluctantly left for required ingredients he had had to travel for Chinatown for.
Had to get back to the lair.....
Had to get back to the lair.....
Had to get back to the lair.
The....children would be waiting.
If...they weren't already-
Splinter the Rat greatly quickened his pace, heart accelerating.
Finally spotting the correct manhole, Splinter glanced about suspiciously as he raised his head to check for any human scents.
....No.....
Better hurry. Perhaps they were already awake!
Possessed of that hope, the rat leapt into the darkness, manhole cover cluttering behind him.
Ah....
It was late.
The cold, brisk air of the dank sewers was telling the rat so as he hurried along, basket repeatably knocking against his body. Splinter glanced down.
None of its contents had been spilled out....good.
As Splinter reached their home's hidden entrance, behind a few broken beams and cloth, he slipped inside, hoping beyond hope, for the first time, that his sons were busy making
mischief somewhere about in their home, and not in their beds.
But that was not to be.
A weary sigh escaped Splinter as he reached for a nearby match in his pocket, and serrated it against the very tip of his claw.
Ssssssstttttttttttttttt.
A tiny flame burst as Splinter slowly lowered his thumb, eyes careworn as he proceeded to his sons' room, footsteps slow and heavy.
All evening, he had been extremely anxious, always putting on his cloak and taking it off again, hanging it on their old hatstand in accordance to his whims.
The rat paused outside the children's room, biting his lip.
Feeling his eyes sting with shame, Splinter slowly pushed back the rough, faded teal cloth, and walked in.
_____
The fire was still going....so that was a blessing. The room needed to be kept warm.
Not that the young ones weren't already covered with all the spare bits of cloth he could find....occasionally, the rat had to remove them, seeing as they would groan or toss in
their sleep, desperate to be rid of the extra heat.
Nonetheless, Splinter threw another log onto the flames, causing sparks to shoot upwards, and the blackened log to roll just slightly
in a barrage of white ashes. The rat coughed slightly, vaguely wishing for a chimney in their home-then slowly turned, keeping his eyes glued to the carpet as his stomach lurched.
Could he not even face them?
After two days.....
Splinter's eyes, much to his embarassment, began to pool over again as he reached for Michelangelo's hand, which was still lying at his side-exactly where Splinter had left it.
Closing his eyes, letting the hot water burst from the corners, Splinter paused as he slowly felt the rhythmic, soothing pulse in Mikey's palm.
After awhile, Splinter moved onto Leonardo, slowly putting a hand on his forehead.
No fever.....but no waking. At least the child was still warm.
After a few minutes, he reached for the next one.
Raphael. Heartbeat....still pumping, but unsteady.
Sighing, Splinter reached for Donatello last, slowly counting the seconds between each breath to himself.
Finally, the rat stood, dark orbs staring at all four of them imploringly.
"My sons....wake up."
But they didn't answer. No one ever did.
Spirits and hope sinking, Splinter slowly turned and left for the kitchen, tail dragging on the floor.
_____
Steam rose through the bubbling pot, top rattling slightly over the pan. As Splinter slowly put the sliced celery in with the stewing ingredients, the rat wrinkled his nose.
Yuck.
Total, absolute, and positive, Yuck.
Teng Shen's remedy had worked many, many times.....but it was still as repulsive to the scent in the Hamato home as it was in the Ancient One's kitchen.
Considering it was made out of six different types of liver, certain unpleasant tasting vegetable roots, a handful of chopped celery, fish eyes, and that rather nasty bit of-
Ah, well. Regardless of how bad it tasted, his sons needed to drink this. Splinter had to hurry off to Chinatown to find all of the materials....but he managed.
Extinguishing the flames underneath the pot, Splinter reached for an oven mitt and carefully pulled the iron pot off the hook.
_____
Teng Shen had once had Splinter drink this many years ago when the occupants of their household came down with nasty colds. Splinter could remember the positively dreadful
taste quite well-who could forget?-But it had worked quite effectively. Within a few hours, the rat noticed he had felt much more lively.
Pouring the mixture into four chipped mugs, the rat then proceeded to putting it on an old tray, and slowly took steps back to the room.
_____
"Drink this, my son."
Donatello was gagging slightly as the rat gently parted the scientist's mouth, and poured the light green and brown mixture inside, taking care that he did not choke.
Well, at least they didn't have to do mouth to mouth again. It appeared they could swallow-but not eat.
Don attempted to turn his head away, but Splinter gently put a hand on his head, and guided the cup back.
The child was fighting.
Well, that was a good sign.
Splinter moved onto to Raph next, readying another cup.
----
The rat managed a weary sigh as he carefully bundled Leonardo's lifeless form in a new pair of pajamas.
To think-this had been the same child who had been having such a jolly time running about with his brothers-! The rat slowly bowed his head, lowering Leonardo to his lap as he
clasped the turtle in for a embrace.
But nothing. Leo's body was still as unresponsive as a wet piece of cardboard.
The rat managed a shuddering moan, rocking back and forth slowly, in the darkness.
Helplessness.
A terrible, aching, desperate, hopeless emotion.
Were it not for him, the turtles wouldn't be in this mess....
To Splinter's disgust, hot streaks of water had fallen onto Leo's head.
Impatiently wiping them away, Splinter tucked the unresponsive boy in bed, and then collapsed on the nearby recliner he had dragged in here on the first night.
When it had all happened...just two days ago.....
Splinter had taken the turtles on a walk one early evening, turtle hands linked. That was the rule whenever they went walking in the sewers-you stuck together, or, as Raph was
fond of saying, you struck out.
The rat had glanced casually up at the ceiling....
And froze, causing Mikey to bump into him, Raph to bump into Mikey, Don to bump into Raph, and Leo to bump into Don. Don rubbed his nose somewhat sheepishly.
"Ow! Master Spwiner?"
But Splinter had seized Raph and Mikey's palms, and began to pull as the two bewildered, latter turtles seized their opposite hands.
Mikey attempted to pull free.
"Master Splinter-w-what's goin o-on?"
Splinter turned to the confused comic with widened eyes.
"Keep QUIET, my son!" the rat hissed, anxiously pushing the four turtles ahead of him.
"The walls....are extremely..." he made a helpless gesture at the wall.
Raph let his eyes trail up to the ceiling....
....and he groaned.
Yikes.
The water amounts had been rotting the old wood! Must've been the rains they had just had.....ah, well. So it was time to go home. Raph could live with that.
They had began to head home.
But it was then that it had...
____________
Splinter softly blew the candle nearby out, sending the room into pure darkness as eager shadows rushed in. The only sign of light was the tiny grey plume of smoke escaping from
the melted beeswax.
The rat closed his eyes, seeing and hearing different things....
Chaos.
Splintered wood had begun to fall as they treaded....in greater and greater numbers....
And then, when the rat hurriedly looked up after a distant rumble....
"RUN! MY SONS!"
RUN!
The little ones had exploded into a panic as they had sprinted, Splinter keeping them at a pace that was causing them to stumble.....
They only had so much time before the entire wing caved in!
CRASH.
An enormous hunk of wood smashed down into the water, causing a small wave of droplets to splatter onto the Hamatos, but there was no time to comment upon that.
Almost there.....Splinter felt fleeting hope begin to rise in his stomach....
....and then, it dropped like a stone at the bottom of the bay as the last bit of ceiling-in a sea of scrapings and plaster....
In an enormous groan, released itself from the ceiling.
A pair of little hands appeared at Splinter's waist.
And pushed.
"ARRGGGHHHH!"
The rat went stumbling, rolling to the earth meters away as-
SMASH.
And a gasp died on Splinter's lips as he yanked around, the entire unit falling on the C Wing.
And his sons were no where in sight....
____________
Splinter put his two bandaged hands together ruefully, still feeling their raw soreness....
Their scent was in the air.....
And, there was a trembling hand, in the midst of the woody wreck.
The rat's heart was going on severe overload as he staggered up, and began to frantically rip away at the soggy boards.
"MY SONS! CHILDREN, I-I AM COMING-!"
So saying, he grasped the slightly shaking hand, and pulled.
Raphael....
Still panting, Splinter shook the limp body desperately.
"My son......please....."
A faint groan. Twenty five percent of the rat's heart eased somewhat, though still thudding at a much faster pace then usual-as he carefully laid the little boy down.
"Wait here, my son. I must find the others!"
----
It had taken the rat six minutes to recover all four, hands becoming quite raw from their frantic overuse.
But he had done it-and dragged out each of them....
Not one of them conscious.
Splinter frantically shook Leonardo's shoulders, his small head rolling slightly like a piece of limp spaghetti.
"My son.....Leonardo....wake. It is alright, it is al-"
The rat had paused, and withdrawn his hand slightly. Something was coming off in his fingers.
And he turned pale.
"Leonardo?" the old rat called apphrensively, releasing the child from his arms onto his lap.
No answer.
Still not receiving any sort of response and wanting to get a better observation of Leo's wounds, the rat gently lifted the Leader up so that one of his arms was under the turtle,
and the other was cradling the back of his head.
Unfortunately, Leo whimpered in obvious discomfort from that movement, in spite of how careful Splinter had been. Master Splinter regretfully lowered him to the ground, and
reached for Raphael.
Still extremely uneasy at the rusty stain on his palm, Splinter uneasily cradled Raphael, eyes scanning the bruises that were beginning to irrupt from his body.
"My son?" he called more urgently, lightly tapping one of his cheeks in order to get some reaction out of his cloudy grey eyes.
Vaguely hearing his name, Raph stared up towards the voice, but his vision was too hazy to make out any features except for the dark eyes looking back at him.
Wanting to respond, the four year old opened his mouth, only to find he didn't quite recall how to make his vocal cords function....
"Raphael, please.....stay awake. Please."
Hearing the urgency in the rat's voice, Raph's eyelids flickered....
....and slowly slid shut.
----
That was it. No more wasting time....
But Splinter seized Donatello nonetheless.
There was no time to do an examination at the lair!
"Donatello! Donatello, my son-listen to me-"
Unfortunately, the action had greatly cost the turtle.
And Splinter noticed it when the young child's dulled eyes began to close. Clasping Donatello tightly, unwilling to drop him on the pavement, Splinter hurriedly grasped Mikey in his
hands.
"Michelangelo, look at me," the rat pleaded, taking a hold of the turtle's face, feeling ill with fear by how abnormally pale and cold it was—even for a reptile.
Mikey did his best to keep his eyes focused on his sensei, but his vision was darkening just as quickly as he was losing the battle to remain conscious.
And the youngest turtle had always been afraid of the dark...
The boy didn't want to embrace the darkness that beckoned him; he was scared that he would remain in it forever.
But his exhausted body was not giving him any other choice…Mikeyy couldn't hold back the fear-induced tears that leaked out of his eyes.
"Oh....I...My son," Splinter said softly, his voice laced with something Mikey could only vaguely understand in this state.
Fear.
And regret.
Splinter tenderly wiped away the tears from one of the young child's cheeks, only, much to his horror, to smudge more blood on it.
"I-I never meant---I'm…Come, little one…You're going to be alright, I promise. Just stay awake for a little while longer..."
Mikey just stared at him, the man's voice now a hollow echo in his ears. But there was something about it that he wished he had the reasoning to understand. He just vaguely
realized it was comforting. And it made the fact that his body was shutting down easier to accept.
The last thing Mikey saw was Splinter's worried eyes.
"NO!" the old rat screamed when the boy's eyes rolled back and his body went limp.
"No...."
Splinter seized Leonardo and began frantically shaking him.
But, like his brothers, no reaction whatsoever.
And a frantic scream tore from the rat's mouth as the sun sank below the horizon of New York, New York.
Well......I'm beat! Please tell me if I ought to go on!