Disclaimer: I don't own Body of Proof and intend no copyright infringement.
Tommy reached for his gun. One smooth motion, refined to perfection in twenty years of being a cop.
This time around, however, his hand found nothing but an empty holster.
He was unarmed.
What had happened to his gun? Had he left it somewhere? Lost it?
He honestly couldn't remember.
Truth to be told he couldn't remember anything. His head was hurting. So did his knees. Looking down he noticed that his clothes were dirty and torn in places.
But how he had gotten into that state – or ended up in the middle of what seemed to be a vast forest in the dead of night – was a complete mystery to him.
Dim moonlight was seeping through the treetops, but the undergrowth was immensely dark, of a blackness that looked almost surreal. Every few steps Tommy stumbled, over thick roots and stones half buried in the ground.
Where was he? Where the hell was he?
The forest's silence was suffocating. It was so completely devoid of all noise, Tommy started wondering if something was wrong with his hearing. He checked his jacket's pockets for his cell phone, but of course, just like his gun, it was inexplicably absent.
What was the last thing he could remember? He had attended the Flyer's game with Riley. Afterwards they had had drinks… a bit of nice conversation… yeah, there had been some accidental brushing of fingertips, too, and he had touched her back while leading her out of the bar… she was funny, kind hearted and good looking…
Tommy stopped and rubbed his temples vigorously, despite the growing pain that seemed to threaten to split his skull apart. If he remembered correctly they had somehow ended up talking about food stuff they liked and she had offered to cook homemade lasagna for him…
Of course he had told her he loved lasagna. Tommy started walking again.
Megan loved lasagna, too. One evening he had taken her out to that fancy restaurant, way overrunning his budget… but hell, they had had…
OUCH
His foot must have gotten caught in some intertwined tree roots. He crashed to the ground like a ton of bricks, grazing his hands, but that wasn't the worst: Searing pain shot up from his left ankle right up to his knee. Groaning, Tommy reached out to free his foot.
Suddenly the world turned pitch black. It was as if someone had flipped a light switch in a room without windows. Complete darkness. Maybe a cloud was obscuring the moon? Cursing, Tommy groped around on the ground to disentangle himself from the damned tree.
What had happened after they had left the bar? He had brought Riley home, made sure she got to her doorstep safe and dry… she had thanked him for the evening… repeated her invitation to the homemade lasagna again… he had assured her he'd love to taste it. On his way back to the car he had contemplated calling Megan under some pretense, with the vague idea to drop a hint or two on what a great evening he had had…
Hang on a sec… Tommy froze. Some strange sound had just disturbed the forest's oppressive silence. Just a tiny little noise, brief as a pin's drop, so quickly come and gone that he wondered if he had imagined it – no.
There it was again.
A soft rustling.
Something was stirring in the undergrowth.
Well, this was a forest, probably lots and lots of animals lived here – rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, all kinds of birds…
RUSTLE.
Okay, whatever it was, it was definitely a lot bigger than a raccoon. Tommy reached for his gun again, but of course his holster was still empty. What the hell had he done with his weapon?
The roots of the tree were extremely solid. He pulled at them with all his might, but they barely moved an inch. It was as if the roots were deliberately clinging to him, holding him trapped like some sort of old-fashioned shackle.
Maybe it was just his nerves, but the rustling in the undergrowth seemed to be getting louder and closer. Tommy vehemently jerked his foot backwards, lost balance, flopped on his ass, hit his tailbone on another stone but yes, finally it came loose. His shoe, however, was still stuck between the roots.
Great, just great.
Only now, with his foot clad in nothing but a sock, Tommy noticed how immensely cold it was. His fingers were growing stiffer by the minute and uncomfortable moistness began making his clothes clammy. Was that mist, closing in on him? He started groping around again to retrieve the shoe.
What had happened after he had brought Riley home? He saw himself walking towards his car, fumbling with his keys… and then nothing. A black hole. A blank gap. Maybe someone had kidnapped him? With the help of a tazer maybe? And then drugged him? It would explain the memory lapse, the missing gun and cell, the state of his clothes, his disorientation… maybe he had somehow managed to get away.
So he was on the run.
Someone was probably after him.
He should get away from here. Fast.
But where to? Which direction had he come from? As far as he could tell he was lost in a giant wood. If only the moon was visible again, but the clouds seemed to have completely swallowed it up…
GAAAAH
A scream escaped Tommy before he could help it. Giant yellow eyes were suddenly glowing at him from the undergrowth, maybe an arm's length or two away. He scrambled to his feet and started running, thorns and stones piercing through the unprotected sole of his left foot.
It almost felt like he was back on the football field, in his college days, with the other team's players tackling him left and right, only that he kept colliding with tree stems, not human shoulders. He stumbled, fell, struggled to his feet again and ran, ran, ran.
Behind him rustling and something that clearly sounded like the increased breathing of a predator on the hunt.
Suddenly the trees gave way, the moonlight was back, a glade opened up in front of him.
Tommy fell again, but this time not because he had stumbled over something. The beast had caught up with him!
He blindly lashed out at where he assumed the predator's head was. Caustic pain in his left hand momentarily paralyzed him, then mobilized all his remaining strength. He wrested his hand free from the beast's jaw, rolled over, somehow made it to his feet again, wanted to start running once more… and they hit nothing.
Nothing.
The ground was not there.
He was falling, crashing down a hole.
Somehow he expected it to be a long fall, something that involved an echoing cry of his and some spinning and rushing of air in his ears, but instead his back hit soil in a split second. The hole was not deep. It didn't feel like he had broken a bone.
Whatever had attacked him, however, seemed to be regarding the hole as too abyssal for further pursuit. Its yellow eyes glowed at Tommy over the rim of the hole for a moment before it disappeared with a faint growl.
For a moment, he just lay on his back, breathing heavily. His left hand was bleeding profoundly and hurting as if it was on fire. Only then he noticed that the hole that had saved him was narrow and of rectangular shape.
He had fallen into an open grave.
Tom Sullivan was no one to lose his nerves easily, but now he started screaming. Screaming at the top of his lungs – and with a mighty jerk he was awake.
He was in his newly acquired apartment, in his bed, his body was covered in sweat, his boxer shorts were clinging to his skin as if he had taken a swim in them, but he was home, alive and well. His left hand, where Seth Boylan, the unfortunate rabies victim, had bitten him, was throbbing a little, according to Megan a normal occurrence in the course of the healing process, but that was it.
Just a nightmare. It had all just been a nightmare.