The guys had to watch as Skipper responded to events in his nightmare. They couldn't do anything. If they could they would. But right now. They couldn't.
Skipper didn't like the next part. He didn't like any of it. But he hated the next part. Absolutely hated it…
Skipper didn't move the next morning. He couldn't. He didn't want to go anywhere. He stayed where he was. Curled up between Valery and John.
They were cold. Motionless. He didn't want to remember that they were dead. He wished with his whole heart that they would wake up and tell him that it would be ok. That they were alive and he was just in a nightmare. Even though he knew it would be a lie.
He didn't cry anymore. He was deathly tired. He felt sick. Like someone had ripped his stomach out. And his heart. So he stayed still. Right where he was. And drowned himself in his memories.
His first Christmas. His first present. Everything he did with his father. How John taught him how to swim. All the stories that his parents told him. The games, the activities, the sports, everything. It brought a smile to his miserable face. His miserable feeling.
It faded when he thought about how he would never do any of it… ever again.
Then he heard a noise. It was very faint. But it was words. And they were getting closer. Some, group of people were coming towards him. This time he didn't have any protection.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see them. Not wanting them to come into the torn up hut that had once been his home. He didn't have a home now.
He held his breath when he thought that they were right outside the door. To make it look like he was dead to. But they still walked in. He heard them.
"I thought you said the kid was alive!" one of them shouted. His voice was harsh and aggravated.
"I-i- he was alive! He was breathing and, and- and crying too!" another one replied. His voice was low, and shared.
"Well that where is he! I only see dead ones here!" the first man shouted again.
Skipper had held his breath the entire time. He made not a single movement. He was dead. To them
"He is alive. He has to be. He must be faking it." The second one said confidently.
"Don't pick him up. Then he'll look out of place." Another one said. His voice was dark and mysterious.
Then Skipper couldn't take it any more. His lungs hurt. But he had kept his breath in, until he blacked out. The last thing he heard was someone yelling 'I told you he was alive!'
When Skipper woke up again he was chained to a table like surface. He couldn't move at all. The room he was in was fully, totally and utterly, a solid gray. No door that he could see. Or the floor. But he suspected it to be right below the table, like all floors were. And the room was cold. Colder than Antarctica. He was shaking without even realizing it. He felt how cold it was when he fully woke up.
His flippers hurt. Terribly. He looked up at them to see that the chains went straight through his flippers. There was no wrist on a penguin.
Then he realized tears were streaming down his face. But he couldn't scream. He couldn't even whisper. What happened to his voice? Where did it go? Did they do something to him? His throat didn't hurt at all. Where was he?
Skipper started to get overwhelmed with fear. How did this happen? Why did it happen to him?
That's all that ran through his head.
Why? Why? How? Why?
That's all he could think about. Nothing would comfort him now. No one would save him.
He remembered who these guys were now. They were city assassins. Marauders. Crazy people. They were the ones who destroyed cities and towns. Tribes and kingdoms all over Antarctica. They were ruthless. Heartless. Skipper saw firsthand that they couldn't care less about the lives of others. It was horrible. And sent chills up and down his spine just thinking about it. His mother told him about the crazy ones. And now he knew what she meant when she said that they could crush a thousand hearts and not care. He had heard many screams. He didn't know how many. But there was a lot.
He stared up at the ceiling. He thought about his life. It was a normal nice, happy life. Now it was full of fear, and the unknown, Pain and sadness. He didn't like where his life was going. He was afraid of pain. Afraid of everything that was dangerous. And right now, he was terrified of everything.
He took a deep breath. His mother told him that it was one way to calm down and almost never failed.
It failed. Skipper couldn't calm down.
And to make matters worse. A door, that Skipper couldn't see, opened. Someone walked in. he could hear their footsteps. The man was just walking around.
Skipper freaked. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he didn't know where he was, he was in pain, and now there was a mystery man in the room. He was terrified. He tryied to scream. But nothing came out.
The man laughed. He had a low voice, not very low, but not high. Sort of in between. But the laugh was pure evil.
Skipper knew that he was a bad guy right away. That didn't help himat all. That just made him more terrified than ever. Evil people had evil intentions.
He laughed again, lauder. "You cannot speak boy. You can't even whisper." He informed evilly.
Really? I didn't know that. Skipper thought. He was terrified. But he couldn't help it. He already knew that, and was frustrated that he didn't know more. His fear still had the upper hand on him though.
"And I'm afraid to say that you've just entered a world of pain and misery." He said with fake sympathy. "We made you swallow a mute pill. It is half robotic. So I control when you can and cannot speak. That trick you tried to pull, it was clever. But you are just a little tine boy. You can't hold your breath for such a long time." He said, like he cared. But he didn't. "And." He continued, back to his evil demeanor. "It aggravated us. You just bought a first class ticket to torture."
Skipper shuddered.
The man walked up to him. He was tall, very much so. And he was grinning, evilly.
Skipper looked up at him. Pleading with his eyes.
"You tried to escape us. We don't like it when people do that to us. So starting today, we are going to torture your little soul to death." He went right into Skippers face. "When we're done with you boy. You will be just another piece of trash on the street." Then he laughed. And then he left.
Skipper, not being able to talk, cried silently, he was terrified. Scared to death, but he couldn't tell anyone. He was alone. And feared he always would be.