AN: Ok, Chapter 2 is up and running. Please enjoy and leave a review. Really guys, leave a review. Even if you're just pointing out a typo.

Anyways, here's the standard "I don't own the characters" disclaimer.

***Waylon***

For a moment I was dumbfounded on the ground. There I was laying, showered in blood, covered in bits of Blaire, and smeared with the grime of the asylum. Rising from the ground I wasted no time hobbling to the wide exit.

This was it, I was free. I was going home to Lisa, to my boys. I was going to live!

Shambling in a way that I was sure made me look like golem, I passed military Humvees. Vaguely remembering the armed men that still had to be inside and that the Walrider was near my pace doubled.

I was free, nothing would stop me now.

Thirty feet away was the main gate, halfway there was a jeep. A civilian jeep that I didn't dare question. Hoping, praying, I ripped at the handle. The door clicked open, I was even greeted by the little 'bing bing bing' that signaled a door ajar. Oh thank you jesus. I slid into the front seat and found keys waiting for me in the ignition. Karma was smiling down on me after the nightmare I had seen inside. Just before I put it into gear I glanced up. There, coming out to door. What was that? I picked the camcorder, using the zoom function I took a close look at what seemed to be a black cloud.

In the middle there was a man. A man with a crooked gate, a leg at the wrong angle…

Wait, did he just look at me?

Dear god, he looked straight at me. Realizing the cloud was getting closer I slammed the car into drive, then reared backwards to make the turn. The darkness was too close for comfort now. There! I crashed through the gate.

The car stopped.

Flooring the gas the engine growled, I could hear the tires spin. As I struggled the cloud grew around the car.

No, I couldn't die, not after making it this far! Somehow, above the thundering engine, the spitting tires, the blood rushing in my ears, above the whine that signaled the Walrider, I hear a small thud. Not wanting to, but needing to look, I turned my head slowly. There, flat on the glass was a hand. A mangled, bloody hand that was missing a finger.

Oh dear god.

After the small thud was the lightest click imaginable. The handle. The door swung open. On the other side was a man, standing in the swarm with a leg that twisted the wrong way. It was the man who had looked at me, but telling by those half closed eyes he wasn't seeing anything.

The man half sat half fell into the passenger seat. As he did the light white symbols that haunted my vision through the night again showed themselves. The man in the chair was not conscience, he did not look around, adjust himself, or buckle the seat belt. The cloud slowed from a raging hurricane and well… It sank into the man, strait through his skin and into every exposed cut.

The screeches and visions died, leaving me shaking in the driver's seat. Almost not wanting to I eased the car forward. With the jeep gently crushing the gravel drive, I drove slowly away from the asylum. As much as I thought I'd be yelling in celebration when I left, I feared that any noise might wake up the man next to me.

As much as I wanted to be anywhere but where I was, I dared not leave the car. I knew I couldn't make it far on my gashed leg, and my stomach was bleeding pretty badly. I stole a glance to my right.

As bad off as I was this guy looked worse.

His left leg was attached at the wrong angle, with a nasty kink in the shin. There was blood, both old and fresh soaked into what looked like it used to be a leather jacket. Brown coagulated blood plastered to the side of his head along with a deep blue bruise. From what I could see around the top of his shirt his collarbone was bruised purple. The dark color pallet of bruises stood out on his gray skin, no doubt caused by blood loss. And, oh, god, and the smell alone could kill a man. Where I had only crouched in the sewer, it smelled like he had camped there. More details unfolded the longer I looked, holes in his cloths; knife wounds? Gashes? Bullet holes? Was that broken glass too? I couldn't tell if there was swelling, but there had to be. Last and not least were the two gleaming white bones where there should have been fingers.

I couldn't miss the camcorder tucked away in his right hand. Why did he have a camera too? Who was he? What was he at the asylum for? He wasn't an employee, or dressed as a patient.
I grew more worried as I pulled off the gravel road and onto a paved country lane. Easing up to the speed limit I caught a glimpse of an ID hanging from the rear-view.

"Miles Upshur"

Why did that sound familiar…?

Wait a second, that was the name in the email I sent my message to. I had the sinking feeling that he hadn't gotten out of there in one piece.

"thank you for the car" I muttered under my breath, feeling bad for the theft. Driving along the highway my mind took a second to decompress after the stress.

Until I passed another driver that was.

After seeing another human being that I didn't have to suspect of wanting to kill me, it dawned on me how I must look.

I was dressed as an inmate at an insane asylum, covered in blood, driving with an unconscious man, also covered in blood, in a stolen car. I exited off the highway and back onto a small country road.

Now a few miles away from the place of nightmares I put the car into park after pulling over. First things first, I needed to call Lisa. No, first I should get clean cloths. Actually shouldn't I find a doctor. Or maybe…

I had no idea what I was doing.

After deliberating, I decided I had to call Lisa. But I would need a phone, I sure didn't have mine. I looked to my right. He wasn't a patient, he could still have his cell. I didn't want to go near him, let alone touch him, what if he woke up? I had to try, I mean, if the Walrider wanted me dead, why not of just killed me earlier, it's had plenty of chances.

With all the apprehension in the world I looked for the man's cell. It didn't look like there was anything in his pants pockets, so the jacket was my best bet. Lifting the fabric I slid in a hand to look for the device. The leather squelched every time I tapped it, blood seeped onto my hand. I got lucky when I found an inner pocket, but less so when I realized that blood had pooled in it. There was something in there. I pulled whatever it was out. A wallet, not a phone. Regretfully I went back in, this time coming out with a flip phone.

Really, flip phone in this day and age?

Never minding the dated technology I began to dial the familiar numbers that would call home. The keys stuck and the screen blurred, but somehow the signal got through and I could hear ringing.

The three rings seemed like an eternity. It was what? Seven AM? Tuesday? Lisa had to be home.

She finally answered "Hello"

"Lisa! Lisa, I'm free!" my god her voice sounded like a choir of angels.

"What, who is this?!"

"Lisa, it's me, I got out of mount massive."

"Waylon? Where are you, are you ok. What happened, have they been giving you my messages, I kept calling, but no one would answer?"

"It's a long story, I'm coming home Lisa. I'm coming home."

"That's great I have to tell the boys."

"What! I mean, no. You can't tell them right now."

"Whoa, why not. Are you ok, what's wrong."

"It's complicated, I'll tell you when I see you."

"I need to know."

"And you will, I'm coming home now, it's… it's just complicated. Can you wait for me?"

"I'll take the day off." She was my rock, always there when I needed her.

"Good, just take the boys to school"

"Fine, but I need to know everything"

"You will, I'm coming home. I'll tell you everything."

"You'd better. I love you."

"I love you too. I'll see you soon"

I hung up the beaten phone. Lisa knew I was coming and I knew Murkoff hadn't done anything to her while I was locked up. That was one thing off my to do list.

I looked down to the wallet, which I had set in the middle console. Picking it up I debated going through it. The guy next to me had a right to privacy, right? It wasn't like I had literally just gone through his pockets. Glancing to my right to make sure he was still out I opened up the wallet. It was pretty waterlogged, a few stained bills sat inside, a couple of plastic cards, debit, gift card, drivers license.

Oh, hey. There was a name on the license.

Miles Upshur

I looked back to the dangling press pass.

Well, I found Miles.

Knowing now that at least the car wasn't stolen, I turned around in the driver's seat, wincing as the gash in my stomach stretched I checked the back seat for anything useful. I couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for going through his things.

A flashlight, an umbrella, rain poncho, a duffle bag…

Pulling the bag up I set it in my lap and began rummaging around. Inside were spare workout cloths, dirty sweats and a hoodie. At least I had a change of clothes now. Getting a little bit braver I turned the car off and went to check the trunk.

It was more of the same, a few mud stains here and there, but otherwise clean. A tire iron lay flat in the center, a portable air compressor was there as well, to the left sat a tiny first aid kit. I grabbed at it without hesitation. It wasn't the best thing in the world, holding only Band-Aids, gauze, rubbing alcohol, a little bottle of aspirin, and an ace bandage.

After taking off the asylum shirt I got a better look at the knife wound. It oozed a little every time I moved, and I knew I couldn't leave it to weep. I picked up the rubbing alcohol. This was going to hurt.

Opening the clear bottle I poured just enough to clear away the blood that was there. The stinging happened almost before the liquid touched my skin. Doubling over I fought to stay upright, thin red liquid raced down my pants and onto the ground.

Now that I could see the cut more clearly I could tell that it was relatively clean. Not jagged but deep. Ripping the gauze I laid it over the gash in strips, then wrapped the ace bandage over them to hold everything in place. Finally I put on the gray hoodie from the bag. Next I treated my leg. Peeling off the pants from the asylum I sat on the back of the car and looked at the wound. This was more jagged, but bleeding less than my stomach. Once more pouring alcohol on the cut I winced. Having no more ace bandages I resorted to wrapping the remaining gauze around my ankle and tying it in place. The sweat pants replaced those from the asylum.

Only after I was done with the first aid did I see the little bottle of water hiding in the corner. Grabbing it I greedily drank half, then used the rest of it to clean my face.

Throwing the stained clothes and trash back into the trunk I limped back to the driver's side door. Just before I got in I realized that Miles was still painfully visible to anyone we might drive past. Sighing I thought for a moment, standing in pain by the car. Going to the passenger side I opened the door. For a moment all I could do was look at how beaten and battered he was. Taking a moment I opened the back door and grabbed the rain poncho. Laying it over Miles I got it to cover everything below the shoulders. Knowing that the worst of it was hidden from any eyes I might drive by I was about to shut the door when I realized that the bruised half of his head was plainly visible. Really not wanting to do it I nudged his head to the side.

First I gave a light tape, then a second one. When there was no response I gently pushed his head to the left, so that the bruise was facing the head rest. Thinking to myself that he just looked like he was asleep I hobbled back to the driver side. Putting the car into drive I pulled back into the high way.

I was going home, and nothing was stopping me now.