This is a short little story I wrote for the "Darkness" challenge. I am posting it today in place of Broken Doll. DON'T PANIC! The last 2 chapters of Broken Doll will be up this Monday AND Halloween Monday. Enjoy !
Before I Sleep
"Okay, this is bad." I looked up at the night sky…or what should have been the night sky, expecting to see the full moon that marked this Halloween night. It was wrong, very wrong. I have to admit that, in Bay City, not a lot of stars show through the smog, but tonight, I couldn't see any. This was very wrong. The kinda wrong like when you wake up after a bender and discover that you're not at home, and you have some strange woman's panties on your head. AND, you don't even remember leaving work. That kind of wrong.
Speaking of benders, I had a dim, throbbing in my head like I'd been at it all night. I don't remember drinking; in fact, I'm pretty sure I hadn't, but I certainly felt like I had. And then there was the stench in the air… the thick, redolent, cloying smell of blood. My blood.
Feeling around with my hands in the dark, I guessed I was surrounded by some kind of receptacle; a small one, I surmised by the circumference. "Shit." I kicked out with my feet and they immediately struck something hard. I fingered the area around me and the sensation was rough and prickly, but also ridged. That's when the realization hit that I was lying on my back in something wooden…oh, and my head hurt. A lot. I reached up to search for the source of blood, rapping my knuckles across a low wooden plank in the process. I guessed from how much room I had, that I was in a box about 7x4x4…generously.
I pulled my hand away from the biting pain of my wound and felt dampness on my fingers. Wound, that's funny. I guess that's my polite way of saying I had a monstrous gouge in my scalp. Did I feel bone? It was soaking the back of my shirt…pooling below me, causing me to shiver with cold. Yeah, I was wounded all right. Problem was I didn't remember how.
I was always amazed, time and time again, how much blood was in a human body-and how easily it ran out. Not that it mattered now. How long would it take to bleed to death, anyway? Would I suffocate first?
"Jesus." I knew where I was. I knew, now that my normally unruly hair was plastered to my face with a chilling sweat. Now, that the air I was breathing was becoming thick and sour. Now, that I was just minutes from dying.
I was buried alive, Goddamnit. I was in a wooden, Goddamned coffin. In the Goddamned dark. I did an…odd sort of contortive wiggle and was finally able to dip a hand in my pocket feeling for anything that would be helpful: a stick of gum, matches, some lint. Useless, all of it. I unwrapped the gum and put it my mouth, anyway, flicking the paper towards my feet. I could hear the wrapper coming to a rest just below my left leg, that's how small my death chamber was.
In my mind I could hear Hutch yelling at me for littering, and couldn't stop the chuckle that burst from my mouth. Was that really me? Jesus, it sounded funny, almost manic. I guess I was scared.
I've been scared before, you know. Like the time I found my partner's car at the bottom of a ravine. My partner's dead, I thought at the time. But, then, I found him trapped under that piece of junk car of his. Trapped, but alive. I used my hand to push the hair off his face. "You're okay, buddy. I found you. Next time you need some days off, just ask." Man, I was scared. He looked bad, you know…pale, fragile. Even if the ambulance arrived soon, I wasn't sure he would make it to the hospital. But he did. He survived. I wasn't too sure I could pay back that favor.
I was breathing harder now, almost panting. I could hear myself wheezing, and each breath burned my throat. White dots were floating before me and I felt sort of, well, woozy. It wouldn't be long before I'd pass out. Before I'd…well, you know.
"Well, fuck." I bent my arms over my chest, trying to get more comfortable, and blinked the sweat out of my eyes. It was getting really hot. "Fuck!" I yelled, like anyone could hear me. All it did was cause small particles of dirt to fall through the cracks of my coffin and into my burning eyes. I was tired. Damn tired.
I thought of Hutch. Did he even know I was missing? Would he go to work and just find me gone? How long had I been here, anyway? Hours, days? Was anyone looking for me? Oh, God. What if he never found me? What if I just disappeared? I remembered how I felt when I found him missing, when Forest's men grabbed him; I felt like the earth had been blown out from under me, I felt lost. Did he feel that sense of helplessness, too, when Simon's people took me?
Man, I'm tired. I threaded my hand through my hair and wished I had some Tylenol right about now.
"Hutch!" I knew it was pointless, but I yelled for my partner, my best friend, till my throat was raw. I pounded and kicked and scratched on the box till my hands were bloody with splinters and each fingernail torn off. I never saw my death happening like this…trapped in some fucking wooden box, buried God knows where. A bullet… in the line of duty, that's how I imagined going. "Hutch," I squeaked, as hot tears leaked from the outer edges of my eyes.
It's been a bad day, a really bad day. A really, really, fucking bad day. I futilely kicked at the death box a few more times, only succeeding in causing more dirt to cave in on me. My chest burned, and I coughed, trying to rid my lungs of the debris I'd inhaled during my panicked tantrum.
I felt my eyes growing heavy. It was time to sleep, and I couldn't fight it. Hell, I didn't want to fight it. Hutch would understand, wouldn't he? Yeah, he would. I rocked my head from side to side, wondering what Hutch would understand. Man, why am I so tired? God, it's hot. Hot. "H-Hutch?" Was I supposed to tell him something? My eyes closed and I wondered why my bed felt so hard. Don't tell me I fell asleep on his couch again…hum? "Hutch, you need to turn on the 'ditioner. It's hot in here." I'm not sure if I said that out loud or just thought it. But it was hot. I was sweating, and I was tired….so very, very tired…damn tired…hard to breathe…so….tired…
O0O
The air was cool and crisp, like when you drive fast with your window down in the winter. That's what I felt, a whoosh of cold air. Then I felt a hand fist my shirt and I was being lifted like a child. The blurred voices I heard became louder and more focused. I opened my eyes and squinted against the flash of bright red lights, unable to latch onto my disorganized mental command. Desperately, I reached out and felt a familiar hand. "Hutch?" Jesus, I didn't recognize my own voice, raspy, thick and choked.
"I got you, partner." I did recognize that voice; it belongs to my friend, my partner. Hutch sounded different, though. I'm not sure I'd ever heard him sound like that before, so panicked. God, I must really look like shit to spook him like that. I tried to tell him I was sorry. Sorry for scaring him, for not saying good-bye, for looking so bad, but it just came out as a harsh cough.
I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I felt my weight shift against his chest as he maneuvered me, making breathing easier. I felt his fingers softly tangle in my hair, and turned my cheek to rest against his chest, longing for the contact.
I whispered so low I wasn't sure he heard me. "… tired."
"I know, buddy, it's been a long two days. I'm tired, too. Just go to sleep now. Shhhh," he whispered back while resting his arm across my chest. "Let's get him to the hospital, guys," I heard him say. And, then sleep I did, safely in the arms of my best friend.
The End