10

Spencer fell asleep in the hot dry grasp of Floyd. He didn't think that sleep would have been possible but there was something so wonderfully soothing about feeling Floyd's breath on the back of his neck. He felt completely safe. Nothing could hurt him all the time he was here with Floyd. Sleep brought dreams and nightmares though. It wasn't a relaxing sleep and was probably more exhausting than if he'd tried to stay awake.

At first when he awoke he kept his eyes closed and took in a few panicked breaths which were the left overs of his last dream. He could feel that Floyd was still tight against him and he could still feel the breath on the back of his neck, but it had changed. It was hard and deep and there seemed to be huge gaps between breathing in and then out again. He could also feel that Floyd was shuddering slightly. He was still safe though. He'd been right to trust Floyd. He slowly opened his eyes and wiped away the dreams with his fingertips. Sam was sitting on the other bed looking at him with an expression which was bordering on hate… no actually it was hate… no bordering there at all. Spencer gently moved Floyd's arms away from himself and pulling his clothing back into place sat up giving Sam a hundred questions with just one look.

'He's not sleeping.' Sam told Spencer. 'Floyd doesn't really need to sleep. He's gone into hibernation and will probably be there for a while.'

Spencer turned to look at Floyd who had his eyes only half closed. 'He's healing.' Spencer turned back to Sam. 'How is your arm?'

'How is my arm? You suddenly care about my arm? You didn't seem all that bothered yesterday when it was pumping my blood out all over the carpet. No. You left me to deal with it and fussed around Floyd. You're fucking unbelievable. How long have we been together? How long have we been trying to work out what's going on? I thought we had an understanding. I thought we were friends. As soon as he arrived back on the scene you turn away from me again. And I heard you last night. I wasn't asleep. I was in the bathroom alone listening to you two and your sweet pillow talk. Thanks for that. Thanks for every bloody thing.'

Spencer didn't want to listen to this rubbish, but the way Sam had spoken revealed something to Spencer which he didn't think Sam had realised. Spencer had a very good idea that Sam knew exactly what was going on and just chose either to ignore it or keep it to himself for some other reason. There seemed to be no point in talking to him while Sam was in such a dark mood. He moved into the small kitchen area and had a few hotdogs from a can and then supped down on some warm water and spent the rest of the day sorting through the pill bottles to see what he'd actually picked up. He could feel Sam watching him from where he was sitting huddled in a corner with his arms wrapped around his shins and his chin resting on his knees. It wasn't until the day began to darken again that Spencer spoke to him.

'Let me check your wound and clean it up.' Spencer walked over to Sam with a bottle of water and a pot of pills. He'd torn up some more of the bedding to make some bandages.

Sam didn't protest. He let Spencer undo the covering he'd tied around it and wash it carefully. 'What's going on?' Sam muttered as he watched Spencer dabbing at his arm.

'You tell me.' Spencer replied. 'I have a strong feeling that you know full well what's going on.'

The tired look left Sam's face and was replaced by the spiteful pointed expression he used so much. 'How should I know? All I know is that somehow Floyd arrived in our lives and the world fell apart.'

With the wound, which was healing very fast, cleaned and a new dressing placed over it, Spencer sat on the floor in front of Sam. 'I'm not as good as Floyd is at spotting a lie, but when you make it so obvious it makes it hard to ignore. You said that Floyd came back and I turned away from you again – how can that be if you'd never met him before? How can that be? Explain.'

Sam resumed his hunched up protective posture and for a long while Spencer thought he'd not reply, but with a long sobbing breath Sam slowly started to talk. 'I remember him. I remember everything, but at first I didn't. It was gradual. That life I had… being sold to some random family and then them dying, it never happened. None of it. The more I look at it the more unreal it becomes and the more real the dreams become. They're becoming the reality and the other stuff has become the nightmare. This is the nightmare. This is also the real shit. Except… I dunno… if our lives were not real then this isn't real either, so where the hell are we? We're sure as fuck not in some town or city over run with bloated red zombie things. That's not real… not even in hell is that real. It's something that's been taken and implanted in our minds.'

Spencer reached out and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Disgusting habit but does it matter if you're already dead? It sure as damnit can't kill you! And it calmed. Let him think. He lit up with a match and held the pack out for Sam. 'So if we are not here and we are not where we were before here… Where are we?'

Sam now lit up and took in long deep breaths. 'In The Bastion still, I'd guess. Held prisoner and being forced to live out some fucked up life to show us and them what we really are. Who we really are. Spencer, I never had a fucking childhood as such. I wasn't much younger than I am now when I came into existence. The whole selling me to someone who wanted a kid crap… well it's crap. It never happened. So if it never happened then that whole life never happened and the former one did happen… and I know that in that reality I died. Floyd died. You died. We are dead.'

'In The Bastion? They wanted us to forget Floyd.'

'And we did. But his pull on us is so fucking great that his personal charm overwhelmed their enchantments and now it's all falling apart. This was a normal world before things started to drift. Can you see that? It's fucked. We are fucked. What I don't understand is how Floyd encroached into an illusion set by someone who wanted us to forget him.'

'Through the dreams and nightmares. Maybe they wanted us to see the horror? They underestimated Floyd.' Sam grumbled.

'Fuck… You know what? Everyone underestimates Floyd. You bloody well do. You know that you made him promise he'd kill you if you started to turn into a monster? Well he will. No amount of begging him not to will make the slightest odds cos you sealed the deal. He's not a demon, but he's sure a fuck in a forest something and he will make a binding deal and not allow you out of it. Now that raises a question as to how he got out of his promise not to carry guns.'

'He assumed it was no longer a binding agreement, as we no longer knew who he was.' Spencer said. 'We broke the bond.'

'And we need to know, if we are at The Bastion, where is Floyd?'

Spencer looked mildly puzzled for a moment. 'We saw him being turned. We saw him leave. They forced him back.'

Sam raised an eyebrow as he spoke. 'Really? That's what they want us to have seen. That's what would have been ideal, but how the hell do we know if that really happened? Floyd thinks he's back with the Captain and trapped, but he could be any fucking where. Just because he thinks that's where he is, doesn't mean that's actually where he is. I've a feeling we are all in The Bastion. All living out another life and they're seeing how well we do… like fucking lab rats. We're probably being force fed Hallucinogens and all sorts of shit and we'd not know. How would we know? If we are imagining everything, how will we ever figure out what's real and what's not? Are we really talking to each other even? Am I in a prison cell somewhere talking to myself?'

'We have to discuss this with Floyd.'

'Why? So he can say it was all his idea in the first place? So he can lap up the praise you'll give him, because you'll forget it was me who suggested it. You really make me sick sometimes. I thought you liked me.'

Where this sudden change had come from, Spencer didn't know. Sam's weird mood swings seemed to be getting worse. It seemed that his intelligence would just suddenly plummet and be gone and it was replaced by a surly unreasonable child. Spencer had almost been fooled into thinking he was talking to an adult for a while! Actually not almost… he'd been totally duped! 'I do like you! Why do you think I don't! I've said over and over again that I will protect you and look out for you. Why do you keep pushing me away?'

Sam said nothing, but stretched out his legs and looked over at the empty bed. He walked over and carefully laid down. He closed his eyes, but like when he was in the tub the previous night, he didn't sleep. He lay there looking into Floyd's half open eyes trying to delve down and see what was going on in that bossy, possessive, greedy, violent mind… It was almost looking into a mirror of his own mind. Sam rolled over and turned his back.

Spencer spent the night again curled up with Floyd. He'd checked up on him during the day and cleaned the damaged skin, but already it seemed to be looking healthier and as Sam kept pointing out, it had nothing to do with Spencer's careful treatment. Spencer had a nightmare, which wasn't all that unusual. He had one most nights… always painful and always he woke up bathed in sweat and shaking. This one was different though. It wasn't the usual being chased through a forest by something dark and evil sort of nightmare… this was a situation he's never dreamed before but yet it felt slightly familiar. Not quite a memory… not that familiar… but there was something awful and horribly real about it.

He was strung up by his wrists. His toes were just touching the floor. He could feel it cold and damp as he wriggled his toes. He could look down and see how thin he was… almost emaciated. His skin looked an odd mottled yellowish colour. In the dream he tried to look upwards and see what his hands were attached to, but he couldn't do that. His head wouldn't move back. The room though was small and dark. There was a door in front of him with a small barred window… long and narrow, but very high. As far as Spencer could see there were no windows. He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. He tried to pull his hands down from where they were held and couldn't, but there was a rattling sound as though he was held in chains rather than rope. Again he tried to call out and this time a small whimper escaped his lips. The dream, or nightmare seemed to go on for hours. His shoulders were numb and his chest was heaving with panicked breaths. When the door opened and someone tall in a green and yellow coat walked in he started muttering… 'No, no, no… please no.'

At this point Spencer attempted to wake himself up… when that didn't work he tried to take control of the dream and make the person go away. The man held a long rubbery looking tube and a bottle… he also wore a sad smile.

Then the scene jumped forwards… Spencer's mouth was being forced open and the rubbery tube was passed down this throat… down and down and further down… He was choking and gagging and swinging his head from side to side trying to stop what was happening. The contents of the bottle were poured down the tube. He could feel it, cold like ice hitting his stomach and making him want to be sick, but he knew that he couldn't. He just couldn't afford to puke. He needed nourishment. This was the only way it was offered. In his dream he knew that.

Again it skipped forwards. Someone else was there now. The tube was gone. There was something slimy crawling over Spencer's bottom lip and over his chin, dripping down onto his chest. It wasn't there for long. He was hosed down with water, someone swept out the cell and the door was closed.

For a while the dream allowed Spencer to cry.

And then he slipped out and away and into a cold dark place… somewhere his mind would take him to relieve him from horror and pain.

When he woke up the dream was already fading. His throat hurt, but it had done since he'd drunk the water. At least he thought that's when it first stared hurting. His face was wet with tears and Sam was kneeling on the floor with his nose about an inch from Spencer's.

'Wow… that was one hell of a bad dream you just had. I was about to wake you. You actually puked in your sleep! I've never seen anyone do that before… oh and sorry mate, but you pissed yourself too. But wow.'

Spencer swallowed back something which tasted vile. He looked carefully at Sam, but for now didn't speak. He gestured at Sam for a drink and the dog scuttled away and got what was wanted. When Sam returned Spencer was sitting with his arms folded over his chest and his hands massaging his own shoulders. 'Sam.' Spencer spoke in painful voice. His stomach hurt as though it had been filled with concrete. 'Look.' He held out both hands to Sam, palm up firstly and then he turned his hands over.

'What did you do?' Sam gently touched the deep black bruises and cuts on Spencer's wrists.

'Nothing. They happened in my dream.'

Sam stood. He knocked over the water bottle, spilling it into a warm puddle on the grubby carpet. 'We've got to get out of here Spence. We've got to find that hospital. I don't think there's going to be anything much to find there, but I can't think what else to do and we can't stay here. I tried waking Floyd up when you were sleeping. I wanted a cuddle. I couldn't get him to respond. I don't know… I really don't know. Maybe he's not hibernating… Maybe he's just plain old dying. But he's healing so he's not dead yet. But we've got to wake him somehow!'

'You were right. We're not here. We're in The Bastion still.'

'And they don't want us to have Floyd.' Sam was very sure of that.

'They are going to be disappointed then. The beds are on wooden frames. We can pull them apart and make a travois and drag him out of here. I don't see why we have to sit around waiting to die. We have to do something. Show our loyalty to him. Show our love for each other. Prove that even though the bonding has gone that we are still as we were. Can you do that Sam?'

Sam thought about it. He didn't think so. No… he really didn't think that was going to work. He wanted Floyd. He wanted to curl up with him and be cuddled. He wanted to be the one Floyd looked out for. He wanted to be top dog for once. But Spencer was trying to take control again. Well let him. Let him be the one to make the fucking travois… let him be the one to be the damned hero… When Floyd was awake again then Sam would get what he wanted.

Even if it meant disposing of Spencer first…

But he sort of liked Spencer.

But he hated him too.

Sam wished he could make his fucking mind up!