Head pounding. Eyes thick and unseeing. Couldn't open them. Pounding, pounding, bass drums between the ears. Pain. Wrists hurt. Arms hurt. Legs and ankles hurt. Cold. Numbing. Felt the fabric of his uniform pants. No shirt. Bare-chested. Cold, very cold. Teeth chattering involuntarily, or wanting to chatter but unable to. Unable to because something was in his mouth. He tongued the object. Cloth. Cotton. Dirty. Gag on the taste, on the smell. Stomach and chest heaving. Try to move arms. Can't. They're behind, wrapped around something. Move against it. A pole of some sort. Wood. Smooth, like a telephone pole.

Blinded. Unable to speak. Unable to move. But he could hear. Softly murmuring voices. Some male, some female. Couldn't make out the words, they were too far away and talking too quietly. Shuffling of feet. He could smell them. Dirty. Unclean. Smelling just like the rag in his mouth. One man spoke. A second spoke. Two men looking at him. Discussing him. And he? He was helpless.

"He cain't keep 'em from comin' now."

"'dyou see 'em go under?"

"Yep. Saw 'em. Ort not to 'ave caught this 'un. Make our saviors mighty wrong-sided."

"Naw, Porpie says it'll make 'em come."

"Meantime, what of 'im?"

"Porpie says we c'n do as we please, outta sight of womanfolk and kids."

"But why, Shorty? What you want with this 'un?"

Scott felt bile rise into his throat.

"He's purty, one of the gods. Yew know th' Word. Yer with a god, you become a god."

"Yew think he'll let ya? He don't seem right good in spirit."

"Don't need ta be. I dun heard over yonder in the Alleghenys they dun did it, slept with a god, got taken fer eternity, like Porpie preaches."

"Them ships come to take us, Shorty."

"Yap, Fuller, yap, that they did. And now I'm gonna be a god, I yam."

Scott felt the rope around his waist being loosened. Muscles tensed. Mind flew in every direction. Waited until the rope was loosed, bucked, arched his back. Hand stung his face and he winced inwardly, outwardly showing no fear. Why couldn't he open his eyes? Legs were loosed, still bound at the ankles. Kicked outward, caught someone, possibly in the leg from the sounds of pain. Too bad it wasn't the groin. Another slap on the face. Hands lifted up and up, painfully, rotating the shoulders, up over his head. He struggled, struck out with the two fists bound together. Managed to turn himself around. Couldn't see, only knew he'd turned when the blow to the back of his head made it snap forward into the pole. And darkness fell once more.


This time he hurt all over. He hurt in places he didn't even know he had. His head felt more like someone had driven an axe into it than a pounding. One split right down the middle. He suddenly wondered if that were the case, but didn't feel the stickiness of blood on his hair or neck. Maybe not, then. His chest and back hurt, he could tell they were scraped and cut from the nature of the pain. He could feel something else, too. Something that made his blood curdle and his heart sink. The worst pain of all, even worse than axe-in-the-head, was coming from both his groin and his butt. His mind recalled the conversation between the two smelly men, and that was when the odors assaulted his nostrils.

They had had their way with him.

He felt vomit rise in his throat and only then realized the stinking gag was no longer in his mouth. He was lying down and managed to roll to his right side as he heaved the entire contents of his stomach out next to him. Hard stone, he was on hard stone. More lurching. God, his body hurt. He'd been violated in the worst imaginable way. More heaving. It came out his mouth, his nose. Tears filled his eyes, at least, he thought there were tears but he didn't feel them spilling onto his cheeks.

That was when he felt the blood, as he rolled onto his back again. It was beneath him, right under his ass. He heaved again, only stomach acid left. Rolled to the side and let it come out. They'd done it. They'd actually done it. But who were they? And why? What of all the talk of becoming a god? He didn't understand. Why would they do this to him?

"Help," he gasped, throat dry and raw from the vomit. Couldn't match the pain in other places. His mind plunged southward. "Help me." Not loud enough for anyone to hear. Not loud enough. Further and further south.

This is what is meant to be. Fitting end for one with the darkness inside. Would they continue to sodomize him? To have sex with him? His groin felt like it had been ripped to shreds. He was weak. Thirsty. Nauseous. The damage to his ass, it was extensive, he could feel it. Tried to block it out, put his mind from it to something else. The boys. The boys! The rescue! Had they been successful? Were they still down there? Had they saved the three victims? What if they were in trouble? No one was there to help them! He wasn't there, he wasn't there!

Panic rose within him as he struggled to free his hands and feet, but all he did was rub the skin raw. He felt the ropes dig into his flesh and cried out in frustration. He had to be there, he had to! What were they thinking, they would be afraid, they would be panicking, wondering where he'd gone, unable to find him. Karen, she would tell them. They'd talk to everyone there and she'd tell them.

She'd known who those men were. She'd been afraid. He wished he knew who they were, who had done this to him. If he got out, he'd kill them all with his bare hands, naked or no. Naked. No pants. Yes, completely naked now. Not even socks. Every shred of dignity stripped away. No longer God, but a fallen angel. Thoughts turning and turning. Maybe he'd wanted this. Wanted this escape from things, from life, from the darkness. Plunge into the darkness, eh, Scott? Well, this is it, you got your wish. Let the beast within come out and meet the world.

You asked for it. You wanted it. Your fault anyway, getting captured, you should know better. Can't even keep yourself safe, how could you keep four brothers safe? Frantic, worried about you, you're causing this, causing their angst. All your fault. He wished he knew why he couldn't cry, his eyes felt like they were plastered shut and suddenly someone was there slapping something on his mouth. Tape. He recognized it as duct tape. The smell was unmistakable. Only yesterday he'd used it to re-seal a box of heavy fuses after taking one out, never knowing then that he'd be tasting it through his own lips.

Asked for it, hell, no. He hadn't asked for this. Not this. Never this. To know he'd been there helpless, why hadn't they just killed him? Push it down, push it way down to where it couldn't be seen, couldn't be found. Now he had to get out, had to find the boys, had to make sure they were okay. Wounds would heal no matter how much they hurt at that moment, they would heal and he'd bury it along with everything else he'd buried and that sludge, it was going to come out real soon. Real soon.

He struggled, but without being able to see, without knowing where he was or who else was around, even if he got away, where would he go? Could he get whatever was on his eyes off? He couldn't even get the ropes off his wrists. He heard footsteps retreating. Echo. They were echoing. Wherever he was it was large enough to produce an echo. Solid, cold rock. He shivered at its coldness. A cave. A cave! That had to be it. He was in a cave. But where?

If they'd done this to him, what of his brothers? He felt the panic swell again and almost heaved, but managed to push it down. What if they tried to capture them, too? Hurt them? If they hurt them, he'd make them pay. With everything he had left, he'd make them pay. Yes, think it, Scott. Give in to it. Give in to the dark thoughts in your mind. Let them take over. They have to, it's survival. Think them. Let them flow. He'd kill them. He envisioned one of the four men, his dirty face and beard, his haunted eyes, imagined his hands wrapping around the dirty neck, stench filling his nostrils as the man's eyes bulged. Squeezing harder and harder until he fell lifeless to the ground.

Hurt them and you'll die. You'll all die. Father must be so worried. And Grandma. Everyone. What these assholes were doing to him, to his family. He could see the headlines now, hear Ned Cook's voice in his head. "International Rescue, yes, the very organization that risks their lives for strangers, have lost one of their own. Just a few hours ago, their leader was kidnapped and there's been no word on him. International Rescue are asking for your help. Help them find the one they lost."

It almost made him laugh. He'd have to describe him in order to have people help look for him, and he couldn't describe him in detail or even give his name, not even his first. Breach of security and security came first. No, they wouldn't give a description, they'd just say to look out for the uniform. Bad since it was no longer on. He wasn't as important as IR, as his family. His heart felt like someone was gripping it tighter and tighter at the thought of never seeing them again. Never seeing Tracy Island or Thunderbird One. What was happening out there? Were they safe? They must be looking for him.

Could it be a trap? Using him to lure them? They would come looking, he knew they would even if he had expressly forbidden it, because they were his brothers. His family. Turn darker, Scott, have to stop thinking sissy or you'll never get out of this alive. Survival, remember what you've learned. Listen. Listen hard, try to gauge captors, gauge their reasons for doing this. Just to fuck him? Hardly, couldn't be, not strong enough reason. But what, then?

Voices again. Voices raised in terror, yelling, screaming. Gunfire. He froze. Machine guns. Pistols. Shotguns. Old-fashioned weapons. More yelling. Men, women, children. His brothers? But there were no laser pistols, they'd be using laser pistols. Couldn't be them. Then who? Local authorities? He tried to scoot across the rock, tried to find a place that perhaps he could hide, but the way was rough and rock jutting out caught his flesh. He whimpered, all the while licking the duct tape, trying to loose it from his mouth. Tried to produce saliva but had none. He began to roll, painfully onto jagged edges, moaning and wanting to cry out from behind the tape.

Rolled over and over, there had to be something, an outcropping, a big rock, something he could get behind as gunfire continued. Then he caught the smell of smoke and recognized a smoke bomb grenade. Hadn't smelled one of those in a long time. It was faint, further away from him, but he could smell it. Heard feet running and tried to roll faster.

"Hey, wait!" A woman's voice, then felt hands on his body, stopping his movement. He struggled against the cool hands. "Calm down, I'm here to help!" Could he believe her? Believe the disembodied voice next to him? The ropes were cut away from his wrists, his ankles. The duct tape was quickly ripped away and he cried out in the moment of pain. "Quickly, we have to get out of here now!"

"My eyes..." he whispered, clawing at them with his newly freed fingers.

"No, don't! Listen, there isn't time, come on, take my hand!"

God, he hurt. Ached. She grabbed his hand and began pulling him. The soles of his feet hit sharp points, but by now he was beginning to slowly go numb from too much pain and too much cold. Now his teeth could chatter, and they did. They ran and ran, he could tell it was a downslope. He stumbled, almost falling three times but she kept him upright. Stumbled into her another time and they went sprawling to the floor. She cried out, as did he.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said, pulling him to his feet. "We're almost to the branch we need."

Branch? What branch? What was she talking about? Who was she? One of them who'd had a change of heart? Here he was completely naked following someone he didn't know. Thankfully the hurt was almost completely numb now. He felt them take a sharp turn, she almost jerking his arm out of its socket. He could hear himself panting. He'd do anything for a drop of water. He must look like shit, covered with blood in the back, who-knew-what on the front. How must he look to her? Did she know who he was? Either as a Tracy or as International Rescue? Who was she, where had she come from?

He couldn't get the questions of out his mind. Suddenly they stopped. He smelled something. It was warm here, wherever they were. "We'll be safe here for a bit. You have to get into this water. It'll help soothe your wounds and I'll work on getting that stuff off your eyes."

"Water." He felt a plastic bottle shoved into his hand and twisted the top off. He guzzled the entire contents in one long swallow and was more than grateful. "Thank you."

"Come on, eventually they'll come. Got to get you cleaned off."

"Where are we?"

"Hot springs. They run about eighty degrees here, you'll get used to it. It's going to hurt at first, you've got a lot of damage."

No shit. She makes it sound like I'm a plane that got banged up.

"Here, I'll lead you in. You'll be all right, these minerals have been known to be quite magical."

Yeah, right. Magical would be to take away the fact that someone took me and invaded parts of my body that weren't meant for it. The fact that my brothers...my brothers...

"Anyone...with you?" he rasped.

"No, I'm alone." She gently led him into a very, very hot pool of water. He shivered as its warmth sank into his bones, into the cuts on his feet and legs as she led him deeper and deeper. It stung, he felt his face screw into odd shapes as the pain shot through his ass, his torso, like a thousand tiny knives cutting into him.

"My name is Kaya Larson. I'm a park ranger here in the Appalachians."

"How...?"

"We've been trying to find the Yoofoh Cult members for months now. I caught sight of them at the edge of the clearing where you were, but by the time I got down the mountainside, they'd already taken you. I tracked you to the cave."

"Yoofoh?" He yelped as she pushed him lower until only his head was above water.

"Yeah, you know, U. F. O. – UFO."

UFO? She had to be kidding. He'd bumped down onto a small outcropping beneath the water. His wounds felt better, soothed. Even his ass was feeling better, though it still stung a bit. She walked between his legs, and that's when he realized he was feeling skin. He jumped, but she steadied him. Was she naked, too?

"Relax, I won't hurt you. I'm just going to use the water and a solvent to get this off your eyes."

"What is it?"

"A mixture they make from tree sap to keep your eyes closed. I can get it off."

There was silence as he let the waters cleanse his body. But inside, the waters did nothing. Rage boiled within him now. Rage at the men who took him, at the whole situation, at what had been done to him. He felt something cool cover his eyes.

"Okay, now, can you hold your breath for one minute? I need the hot water to work with the solvent. Can you do that?" He nodded dumbly, took a deep breath and let her push his head under. Slowly he felt the stuff on his eyes soften. "Don't force your eyes open, let me do it," he heard her say. Kaya, she said her name was. Park ranger. Seemed nice. Wouldn't do to let the bear out now. Keep the growl inside, keep the shaking hands hidden.

He mentally ticked off the seconds and sure enough, when he'd hit sixty, she gently prodded him out of the water by lifting under his chin. "Okay, looks good, give me a few minutes here and you should be seeing again."

"You know...who I am?"

"Yes, you're with International Rescue, I'm going to try and get you back out to them."

"Thank you."

"Hey, no one dies in this forest on my watch, especially not one of you."

A silence descended. Small strange sounds filled his ears. He identified them as bubbling water. "Caves."

"Yes, caves. Listen, I'm really sorry I didn't get here sooner. It's hard to track across the rock flats, I lost the trail a few times."

"S'okay," he mumbled. Truly, what could she have done? "How did you get past them?"

"Two big guns and a smoke bomb."

"Thought I smelled it. Park rangers carry guns?"

"They do when they know there's a dangerous cult loose on their mountain. They're lightweight, though, nothing too bulky."

More silence as she worked.

"Let me just use this cloth to wash your eyelids off one last time and then you can open them." He waited as he felt the warm, wet cloth swish over his left eye and then his right. Then it fell away and he felt her moving back from between his legs. "Try it."

Slowly he opened his eyes. The cave was dark, only a small flashlight held by Kaya lit their surroundings. He blinked. "Can't see right."

"It might take some time. But I need to get you out of here, dried off and dress those wounds." She took his hand. "Follow me."

He let her lead him out onto the cave floor. Soon he felt a blanket 'round him and he used it to dry his hair, his body. It didn't occur to him that he stood here naked and so bruised in front of a complete stranger, and a woman, to boot. All he knew was that he felt better, at least, physically, and he was grateful for what she'd done.

"Okay, I'm going to start with your back. All right?"

He nodded and pulled the blanket around to his front, hugging it against him as her fingers played across his skin. "You've got a couple of nasty ones, I'm going to bandage them and..."

Why had she trailed off like that? "What?"

"I have something you can put on your buttocks to help begin the healing process."

His face flushed hot, he could feel his ears burning. "No need."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but if you don't put something on that you could get an infection sure as you could with any of the rest of these wounds."

He felt like whirling on her, smacking her, knocking her down. But he knew she was only trying to help, and logically she was absolutely right. Logic failed, though, when you knew you had been brutally raped. His mind began to spiral again. All he could do was nod. She placed a small tube into his hand. "After I get done with these gashes, I'll leave you to do that and then I'll check the rest of you."

"Concussion."

"Shit, you're right," she said, stepping in front of him and shining the flashlight into his eyes. "Fixed and dilated. You shouldn't even be on your feet."

"You going to carry me?"

"Hardly, I'm only five-foot-five." She moved back around behind him and he felt a salve being brushed across two painful areas, then felt the syntheskin seal them. "I'll hold the blanket up to hide you, get it over with."

Cold. Clinical. Detached. He supposed she had to be. He had to be the same way. Hold the dead kid in his arms, hand it over to the weeping parents. Here, take her, get it over with. Same reaction, same poise, different situations. He uncapped the tube, still unable to clearly see, and reached around behind himself. He couldn't keep the air from hissing through his teeth as he gently daubed a fair amount into place.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. And from the sound of her voice, he knew her words were genuine. He half-shrugged and finished the job, turning to face her. "Let me just check your chest and legs, then we'll wrap this blanket around your waist." He nodded as she moved in closer, shining the light all over him. Moments later, she finally spoke again. "The rest are decent enough, could do with some small bandages, but I'm afraid we need to get moving."

"Where?"

"This cave goes on for another three miles before we get to a small low-tech elevator that leads to ground level. It'll bring us out just under the peak. Less than three-tenths of a mile down to your team. I've already radioed for help."

"Did they answer?"

"I got my ranger HQ, told them who was involved and they said they'd put the call out."

"Won't be able to detect us this deep."

"No, probably not, which is why we've got to get to the surface. You with me?"

Before he could reply to her, they heard footfalls.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed. Quickly she folded the blanket in half and wrapped it around his waist. He tied it in a knot to keep it there as she threw supplies into her backpack and hoisted it onto her back. "Keep hold of my hand, you don't know this place like I do!"

"You!" a gruff voice yelled from the other side. "Stop!"