Chapter Ten: Burning Down
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Sunset broke over Phil Collins hill, slowly sheathing Base in a blanket of shadow. Inside the rotting structure Stan keeled over the table, smoothing out a piece of burlap marked with coal. It was a strategy. The others watched silently as he told them what they were about to do. A drop of sweat ran down Clyde's brow. Tweek convulsed more that usual. Even the usually stoic Token seemed nervous.
"We break up into groups..", Stan looked around the table. There were only six of them now. Somehow, it still felt like an army. "..of two."
"Isn't that dangerous?", Craig argued, some of his resistance returned after the prior tense hours, "Shouldn't we just stay all together?"
"No, if one pair gets discovered, we need backup."
Craig half-rolled his eyes, but settled back on the dirt floor anyway, calloused hands clasped together in his lap.
"Each group will choose a train car to jump, preferably far away from others, but still on the same train. We all need to arrive at the capitol at the same time for this to work."
This time it was Tweek who spoke. His eyes were electrified with fear as he turned a watery gaze on Stan. "The..the capitol?"
Stan sighed. "That's where I think fatass would take him." He paused to think. Scenarios Stan hadn't before considered were now floating around his mind. Kyle might be at a body farm, any of the half a dozen all over South Park, being dissected by formies for profit. He might be injected with Formula 10, forgetting who he was and being at the complete control of Eric Cartman. Kyle could be cloned, his original body dying while his likeness went on to capture more innocent people, including those who were once his friends.
"Come with me and you won't have to die.", a calm voice recited.
Stan turned around quickly, alarmed by the man who had snuck up behind him so quietly. When he did so, a lean, tall figure met his eyes. A man wearing a tan uniform adorned with a swastika arm band. His sharp features were surrounded by a mass of curly red hair that he wore like a halo. Stan gasped at the sight and dropped his gun to the mud beneath him.
"Kyle!"
"This is your last warning.", the man threatened, drawing his own gun and training it to Stan's chest.
"No! Kyle, it's me!"
The red-haired man's expression was set in stone. His striking green eyes staring in to Stan's- emotionless, dead. The only hint of realization he expressed was a shaking of his arm, due no doubt to the gun's weight, though perhaps there was something inside him besides his muscles that didn't want to fire.
Tears started forming at the corner of Stan's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to run to his long-lost friend and embrace him, welcome him back, but the eyes that looked now into his were cold. Lifeless. One long finger extended to rest on the trigger of the gun.
"Kyle..please..it's me, you're best friend", Stan's voice cracked.
The green eyes narrowed, locking on to their target.
"..It's Stan."
The arm muscles tensed.
Stan ran forward, arms outstretched. He embraced him just as the bullet tore through his chest. Stan shook, but grabbed onto the man's jacket tighter. He could feel blood pour from his heart. He could feel himself dying. The man in the blood-drenched uniform didn't move, he simply stood with the same blank expression while his best friend cried his last tears on his shoulder.
"Kyle...", Stan spoke, his voice was strained into a whisper as his breath and blood left him. "Welcome back."
Stan opened his eyes. He became aware of the others staring at him as if he had gone mad. He swallowed hard and shivered in the chill air surrounding him. The room had never seemed so cold.
"Is everyone ready?", he asked, to break the silence. The other men nodded. "Alright, break off in to groups of two and follow me and...", he looked around the room for a potential partner. Kenny stepped forward and nodded silently. "Me and Kenny.", Stan continued.
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Slowly the train came into view. A huge brown and black steam-powered beast, belching hot smoke into the freezing evening air. The group was ready, as ready as they would ever be. Kyle was out there somewhere. He was in danger. Stan led the way to a dip in the cracked brown earth. It was here they would wait to be carried off to the capitol building with the weekly supply of guns, ammunition, and supplies. Stan felt mud seep through the worn fabric of his old jeans when he crouched down with the others. The brown stains were still preferable to the red ones.
A horn sounded and Stan pushed Tweek away from him. The blond man had fallen forward against his shoulder. "Keep still.", he instructed.
Tweek shivered. Though age had done much to calm his jittery nerves, the Tweak boy was still prone to near-epileptic fits of twitches and spasms. The coffee he had consumed on a regular basis as a child had stunted his growth somewhat, which made his teenage years especially stressful, and even at 20 years old, he stood at just five feet five inches tall. It was his mental state and not his physical one, however, that kept Tweek feeling more like a child and less like a man.
Stan grabbed Kenny's shoulder and nodded at the others. They would take the first car. The train ground to a halt with the irksome sound of metal-on-metal. Voices could be heard as a group of white-blond men came clamouring out of the passenger car behind the engine and began pushing open the doors of the cargo sections. Token whispered something to Clyde and he shook his head. They would be gone soon, after the cargo from the nearby factory was loaded on. The men would only have a few seconds to make their move before the train disappeared; off to deliver the tools of war to the new clones, off to keep the machine turning. There was a sound of mud beneath boots, and Stan and Kenny took of running.
Tweek watched wide-eyed as Stan grabbed the metal handle on the side of the sliding train-car door and swung up inside it. Kenny followed, though not without banging his head on the wooden side. He listened only faintly to the heated whispers between Clyde and Craig. They seemed to be deciding who would go next. Tweek felt goosebumps form on his arms and calves. He hugged his arms to himself and closed his eyes; the world seemed to be spinning around him. When he looked up, the sight of Clyde and Token making a mad dash for the next car met his gaze. There was no way Tweek could do this.
"We're next", Craig's steady voice sounded, "the last car, that one there."
Tweek's violent green eyes widened in horror. He shifted his focus madly from the train car to Craig's large features, slightly distorted now by the blurriness that seemed to cover everything not in Tweek's immediate line of side. He opened his mouth almost involuntarily, feeling that with all the emotion swimming around in his head there must be something he needed to express. Some words that needed to be said. Before he could find them, or more likely, invent them, he was grabbed by the forearm and nearly flung out onto the frozen earth.
"Run!", Craig yelled at the tone of a whisper.
Tweek's legs obeyed before his mind did. He watched Craig up ahead of him with the same blurry fight-or-flight tunnel vision as he felt the air rush over his skin. It seemed to rip at the back of Tweek's throat. They were almost there. The steam was rising from the stack, the train just beginning to move as Craig grabbed Tweek's forearm yet again, pulling him along with him as he jumped head-long into the open door of the last train car.
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Kenny breathed a sigh of satisfaction and relief, a grin plastered on his tan and slightly dirty face. Joyless yells echoed around them as steam belched from the metal belly of the train, the giant brown beast lurching forward now on the steel track. He propped his gun up in the corner.
"We made it.", Stan announced to no one in particular; possibly just to himself.
"Of course we did."
Stan let his lip curl up into a half-smile. Kenny's enthusiasm was refreshing. Yes, they had gotten on the train car, but now came finding Kyle, hopefully still alive and at the Capitol, and the actual taking down of the Reich. He watched Kenny lean his head back against the wooden side of the train car, bumping every so often with the roll of the land underneath. If Kenny McCormick, arguably the most doomed of all the boys, could rest at a time like this, then Stan didn't see why he couldn't either. He brushed a tuft of unkempt bang from his forehead and lied back, pulling his knees to his chest awkwardly.
"Gonna go to sleep?", Kenny questioned, looking over at the normally serious boy with a smile.
"Not 'till I see Kyle.", Stan answered.
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Tweek's eyes widened. The smell of rotting wood and oily metal made his nostrils flare and constrict violently. He and Craig were now in a train car, stowed away secretly, bound for the Capitol. Fear like he'd never known was settling slowly on Tweek's mind; there was justification for every paranoid thought he could entertain. There was a high chance that he, Craig, and all the others would die. Kyle could already be dead. Tweek might see his body. He might watch as his friends were killed. The realization, only now fully sinking into his adrenaline-soaked brain, was overwhelming.
Craig sat a foot apart from his companion, his breathing measured but shallow. His arm twitched as he absent-mindedly palmed his gun, the muscle aching to shoot something. The dark-haired man cast a cold gaze over his companion. Tweek was practically vibrating with fear. Craig rolled his eyes.
Tweek continued to shake, the roaring of the train over the tracks provided the perfect backdrop to his obsessive fears. Each clack seemed to speak a word, a syllable of his thoughts. "You will ne-ver find him...the clones will dis-cov-er you...this is the end" Tweek made a small shrieking noise in the back of his throat. The metallic voice was all in his head, but it seemed so real.
He started at the heavy hand on his shoulder, looking up to see Craig staring at him, trying to silence him without speaking. Tweek closed his eyes, desperate not to make the larger man angry. They popped open again as more shouting from the formies at the front of the train startled him. Craig's grip on his shoulder tightened. There was no time to be scared right now. Any sound could get them caught.
The reason for Craig's force wasn't as obvious as Tweek imagined. The dark-haired man was scared, too. The physical manifestation of it sat shivering next to him. His attempts to calm Tweek were more for his own benefit. The blond made another high-pitched noise and Craig found himself digging his fingernails into the man's shoulder.
"Quiet!", he hissed, "do you want us to get found?"
The combination of Tweek's already pounding heart coupled with his friend's disappointment was too much for him. His wild green eyes clouded over, the last of his commitment to save face breaking under the pressure. Craig loosened his grip, a little surprised himself at the force he had been using on the Tweak boy. He watched in anger diluted with sympathy as Tweek began to cry, each jagged breath bringing more dangerous sounds into the quiet of the train car.
"Stop..", Craig whispered, a little softer this time, "calm down Tweek, they'll hear you."
Tweek hugged his arms around himself, desperate for some sense of safety in a situation that offered none. Craig removed his hand from the smaller man's shoulder, not really sure how to help him. Tweek continued to sob into his arms, holding his sides especially tight every time an unstifled sound made it past his lips. He shook violently, unable to quell the pent-up emotions he had been keeping inside of him. Craig set his gun down slowly beside him and moved his arms awkwardly around his friend. Tweek started, biting his tongue in the process and sending a fresh torrent of tears down his already reddened cheeks.
Craig's brow furrowed. Tweek's noises were getting louder. As much as he cared about the shaking man's well-being, he cared about his own survival more. He had to find some way to calm Tweek down; at least until the train arrived at the Capitol. There was nothing to smother him with...besides, the lack of oxygen would no doubt cause Tweek to flail around, creating an even greater disturbance. As much as he would like to, Craig couldn't tell him everything was fine and Kyle was going to be okay. Tweek was neurotic, not stupid. The truth was, there were no guarantees right now. The plan could backfire and get everyone killed. Or worse. For once, all Tweek's fears were justified.
"Hey..hey Tweek", Craig whispered in his sobbing friend's ear, "look, I know things are bad right now, but you seriously need to calm down."
The blond man curled himself tighter, his ears now covered in shaggy blond hair. This wasn't working. Craig had to act fast. His brain was spinning; he needed a plan and he needed one fast. What calmed him down when shit got overwhelming? He could only think of one thing. Something he did at night when the rest of the men were asleep, or as asleep as anyone ever was at Base. Craig's eyes widened at the thought, but his repulsion was lessened by the severity of the situation.
He tapped Tweek's shoulder, eliciting a small shriek and a rapid movement of the man's body to look at him, terrified. Craig leaned down and pressed a finger to Tweek's lips. His next words were so quiet they were barely audible over the roaring of the train beneath them. "Why don't you try jacking off? I won't look." The blond's pupils dilated in horror and looked foggily at Craig with scepticism.
"Wh-what?"
At the risk of repeating himself, Craig took a deep breath and tried to make his point clearer, his tanned cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and lost pride. "If you masturbate, you'll feel better." Tweek responded with a louder shriek, and Craig clapped his hand over his mouth. His nerves, once calmed, were starting to fray. "You have to be quiet. If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it." Tweek reached his arm over and clutched at Craig's navy T-shirt, shaking his halo of blond hair violently. He was embarrassed enough having Craig see him cry.
Realizing he was getting nowhere fast, Craig reached blindly for Tweek's pants, hoping to get the process started and over with as soon as possible. "Seriously", he hissed, "just do it and I won't look." Tweek twisted the portion of shirt he was holding back and forth. He tried to speak and Craig removed his other hand from his mouth. "It'll make a- a mess." This was followed by a sharp, involuntary breath that made a much louder sound that Tweek had intended, causing his to quickly replace Craig's hand with his own.
Craig gritted his teeth. That was another point, besides Tweek's fears, that he couldn't argue. There was no dirt here to soak up the fluids, or their unmistakable scent. Craig was used to being in charge, if only in brief periods with Stan, and having to do something so humiliating as what his brain told him was his only option was torturous. Still, Tweek needed to shut up, and if there was no logic that could do it, a more primal form of tension relief seemed to be the only cure.
Craig moved to face Tweek, both his hands now dangerously close to the fly of the other man's pants. He looked up briefly at his charge, unable to make eye contact. "Don't tell anyone about this. Ever." A very confused Tweek bit down on his fist and nodded sporadicly. The part of his mind that would have protested too soaked in adrenaline to do so.
As Craig unzipped his pants, however, one thought managed to escape Tweek's trembling lips. "Why are you doing this?"
With a smile uncharacteristic to his usually serious demeanour, Craig whispered "To keep you sane, I'd burn the whole world down."
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This took waaayy too long. Sorry about that.