Title: Grave
Author: The Phoenix
Rating: Uhm, Mature? R? Not fit for young-uns...
Warnings: Survival fic, slight language, demented author?
Disclaimer: I do not own GW, don't have the money to afford trying to steal it either, sooo, Not mine, the boys and Gundam Wing belongs to the creators, I only lay claim to my disturbed brain.
/
Opening his eyes, Duo almost panicked when everything was still so dark that he couldn't see anything at all. The next thing he noticed was that the air was musty and damp, smelling of soil and mud. This couldn't be good.
Closing his eyes to stop himself from panicking at being in the blackness, Duo thought back to a similar situation in the past. In space, he had been locked in a room with another pilot, the air turned off and they were left to suffocate.
The difference now? Duo was alone and it smelled like he was encased in dirt. As he thought, Duo used what he had learned from the Chinese pilot back in space. This was not the first time he'd have to fall back on that knowledge, and sadly, he didn't think this would be the last. He certainly hoped this wasn't the last time, if you took it in the sense that he wanted to get out alive.
As he calmed his breathing and took a moment to try and figure out his situation, Duo came to the conclusion that he was in a coffin. He could definitely smell fresh dirt and earth, but since none touched him, he had to be encased in something. Since that something was at least six foot long, two foot wide, and two foot tall, it had to be at least a crude form of a coffin.
Wondering why he woke up in a coffin, he tried to remember anything. Soon it came crashing back to him that the last eight days he'd spent tied to a bed, force-fed minimal food and doped up on drugs. The last thing he remembered was one of his captors freaking out saying that they'd seen a Preventers agent in the corner store.
Realizing that his air was getting thin, he figured he must have been in the coffin for at least an hour, if not almost two. Wiggling his feet and moving his hands about slowly, he figured that by the dimensions of the box he was in, he'd only have a half hour more, if he remained calm. That's a big if.
'Damn carbon dioxide or whatever,' Duo thought hatefully to himself. Running his fingers along the top side of the box, he searched for the seam. Finding that the box was made similar to a cargo shipping crate, he smirked, that would make this easier. It would also take less time than popping the pin out of the hinge if it had been an actual coffin lid.
Ripping a big strip off of his already ruined tank-top, he wrapped it around his hand. As he did this, he used his knees and feet to push on the lid of the box, looking for a week point. Finding one in the corner by his right foot, he scooted down to that corner.
Levering his knees and feet against the lid, he pushed with all his strength. Hearing a groan of the wood, then a crack and pop, he felt the lid give a little. Feeling around the seam of the lid and walls in that corner, he used his now wrapped hand to slip into the little crack created.
Wiggling his fingers, he felt dirt sink between his hand and the opening in the box. Good, that was a start. Keeping up the leverage by having his knees bent up against his chest and pushing up against the lid, he kept wiggling his fingers in the still loose dirt they'd thrown in over the coffin.
After what felt like ten minutes, Duo carefully scooted up about a foot, each inch was moved slowly so that he could keep the leverage on the lid. Bringing his hand up along the forced opening of the crate, he wiggled his fingers more to loosen more dirt and let it spill into the coffin with him.
Not five minutes later, he was able to get the lid up at an angle the let him get almost up to his elbow out of the crate and force the dirt around. Suddenly, there was a sickening crack and splintering sound. The lid collapse with hundreds of pounds of dirt.
Duo had curled to the side, shoving his face against the wall of the box, in time to avoid damage to his face and chest. His back and side, though, were cut and bruised from the wood, rocks, and weight of the soil. With half of the lid, length-wise, laying on him, Duo used it to make sure there was still a pocket of air for himself.
Grunting, he realized he was very nearly out of breathable air, nearly all of what he was breathing was tainted with too much carbon dioxide. Mentally cursing that again, he made sure to keep the top pushed up from his body to give himself that little bit of space and used his arms to push the soil as far to the corners of the box as he could.
With each push of the soil to a corner, more would fall in and try to suffocate him more. Each time more fell in, he pushed up on the lid and used his arms to push the soil from his body.
Soon he was sitting up, hunched and using his shoulders to support the lid while he used his arms and legs to move the dirt and rocks from around and above him as much as he could.
He felt himself starting to suffer air hunger, his lungs burning and squeezing tightly. Taking a small breath, he started holding it for as long as he could, hoping to give himself enough time to get the last of the way out.
If he was lucky, they would have only buried him at most six feet under, especially if they were in a rush. If he was unlucky, he'd have a lot further to go. Resisting the urge to sigh, he refused to loose the breath he was holding prematurely.
Seven minutes and three breaths later, Duo felt his fingers wiggling against nothing, even as his hand was still half in the ground. Excited, he let the lid fall from the angle he was holding it at and started digging furiously to get out.
He was just starting to pull himself up when he felt the weight of a body step on his hand and move away. Yelling out his pain, he inhaled damp soil and started choking. Making sure to keep moving, he came out of the dirt, hacking and inhaling deeply at the same time.
Forcing himself to puke to get all the dirt and crud from his throat, Duo nearly passed out at the energy that took. Feeling hands land on his back to pat and rub, he took a deep breath before letting his body collapse.
As he let himself sink into a comfortable half-consciousness, Duo heard Quatre and WuFei talking to him calmly. He frowned, wishing they sounded more concerned that he'd just dug himself out of his own grave.
~End~