When Douglas awoke, it was with a jolt and a deep feeling of guilt. His head whipped back and forth so as to survey the room, making sure it was clear. It was – The Man was nowhere to be found nor were his goons.
Finally his eyes rested on Martin who was in a different position than before. He was slouching against the wall, looking at Douglas with glassy eyes. Douglas surveyed Martin's body, making sure he hadn't missed anything, and his eyes caught on his knees which were heavily bound with bandages.
Martin smiled when Douglas met his eyes and chuckled, "They didn't want me bleeding out before you woke up."
"Jesus Martin, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. What…what happened?"
"They've run." He laughed again and Douglas shivered, Martin was obviously at least a bit delirious. "Seems Atkins is more powerful than they thought. With him and Carolyn together, there's nothing to stop them from reaching us." He giggled again, but when he opened his eyes, tears were falling from them.
"Martin, just tell me what's going on."
"You didn't even notice did you?"
"Notice what? Martin! Notice what?"
"You've been in that chair for so many hours, you're used to it by now."
"What are you…" Douglas looked down and finally saw what Martin was referring to. His arms were unrestrained, though his legs were still cuffed.
"They left the key with me," he laughed again and picked the key up from his lap. "But I can't even move; they've made sure of it." He looked down at his knees and a sob escaped his throat. "I'll die here in this very position and neither of us can do anything about it."
"Martin, look, I know it's hard but you need to get the key to me somehow. I can reach, just get it in this general direction."
Martin laughed, his eyes unfocused as he looked at Douglas again. "I'm pathetic Douglas, I can't do anything. I'll throw it and you won't be able to reach it and what then? I've never been good enough for anything. Can't even make it through a couple of injuries without crying like a baby. " He trailed off, staring at the ceiling.
Douglas was frantic now, Martin was speaking quickly and he was obviously feverish. He had no idea how much blood he'd lost or how far along Martin's infection was but he needed to help him as soon as possible regardless.
Before Douglas could respond though, he heard Martin cry out in pain and the key clattered to the ground.
Douglas forced himself forward but wasn't able to reach it. He moved so that he was completely out of the chair, his legs straining in their contorted position. He'd likely pull a few tendons and muscles like this but he didn't care. He crawled across the floor to the key, moving as far away from the chair as his bound legs would allow and then some. He reached once, twice, and finally found purchase. He quickly crawled backwards and unlocked his ankles, practically flopping out of his chair when he did.
He'd been sitting in the same position for days and it showed. Though he'd had food, he was still weak and had to take a moment to allow his floppy limbs to regain circulation before he could sit up.
He rushed over to where Martin was, trying to avoid the surrounding puddles of still-drying blood on the floor. Martin was moving his head back and forth, unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. Douglas took his pulse and surveyed his newest wounds, stifling a sob when he saw what the bandages covered. They bastards had sliced his hamstrings making it impossible for him to move even if he could. He'd been stuck here for however long it took for Douglas to wake up. Douglas couldn't believe that he'd been so exhausted that he slept through this newest torture but the proof was there right in front of him.
Before he could look for any more threatening wounds he heard…something. He couldn't be sure but it sounded like footsteps. He immediately turned towards the door and blocked Martin from view as best as he could.
The door burst open and two uniformed men with guns rushed in. They stopped short upon seeing Douglas before one turned around yelling the all clear to whoever was following them. The men then stepped out of the way of Nathaniel Atkins and Carolyn.
Douglas heaved a sob when he saw them and backed against the wall to collect Martin into his arms as carefully as he could so as to protect him from the confusion that the ruckus was sure to make. Atkins looked forlornly upon the scene before turning to the nearest uniformed man and whispering something. Carolyn ran forward and silently looked between the two, her eyes bright.
She reached out to touch Martin's cheek.
"How could this have happened," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, "How did such a promising prospect turn into something so utterly horrible?"
Douglas shook his head and watched as paramedics rushed in, carefully extracting a now sleeping Martin from his arms.
"I've no idea how or exactly why, Carolyn," he said, meeting her eyes for a moment before turning back to watch the work of the paramedics, "But what I do know is that somehow, against all odds, we're both alive. And for now that's good enough."
". . ."
"That's good enough."