Wow. You guys are awesome! Thanks again for the reviews and your continued interest! This story is still plugging away. For the Thomas fans, I'm sorry but he'll be sort of absent in the next two chapters.
Chapter 10:
Into the Fire
As John stood next to the overturned carriage, he knew something was on the other side. Whatever it was drew all the energy from the ravine to its position. Its pull was so strong it felt as though the wilderness was collapsing on itself to reach it; however, everything was still. Only John could not resist its pull and with horror began to take small steps towards the opposite side.
A brief look outwards revealed the woods was ensconced in a dense smog, so thick John could barely see the closest set of bushes and trees around him. The carriage was a beacon in this ominous haze and something John clutched at for security.
He strained vainly against his own body; he could not let himself reach the other side, for wet and juicy sounds of tearing flesh were now issuing from beyond the protection of the vehicle. Yet he continued to slowly creep around the carriage, taking slow and unencumbered steps. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose the closer he reached his destination, and the fact that his leg swung and bore his weight perfectly as it did when he was a young man was ignored for the bubbling dread building in the pit of his stomach. With each step, the sounds of mutilation grew louder.
There was something there making those sounds. And it was waiting for him.
He finally reached the edge of the carriage, and as if pulled by an invisible tether, he turned the corner. What he saw paralysed him with fear.
Hunched over the bodies of the dead horses, a dark figure tore into their opened bellies and brought red, seeping entrails to its mouth. It chewed messily on the flesh, masticating the guts loudly between its teeth. John gagged at the sight.
The figure jerked its bloodied head up at the sound, mouth dripping with viscera, and two crystalline blue eyes pierced John to his very soul.
John awoke with a shout.
Sun filtered through the glass of the windows and illuminated the room in a warm glow. John could faintly hear birds chirping gaily outside. He was still propped up against several pillows in the same position that he fell asleep. With a measured breath, he attempted to regain control over his rapidly beating heart.
Violent images of Thomas had plagued the valet's dreams throughout the night. The last one that had violently roused him from slumber had been the worst of them. The others had been different, but they always featured the ravine and Thomas in some way. Scenes of the under-butler bloodied and hurt, demanding something of Bates he could not offer were more common. One particularly disturbing nightmare had John battling against legions of rats intent on attacking Thomas, who was pinned and screeching underneath the carriage. Bates shuddered at the memory.
The constant jolts waking him from these nightmares left John incredibly tired in the morning's sunlight. He relaxed against his pillows but did not close his eyes. As much as he craved sleep, the valet's nerves could not handle one more terrifying vision.
Slowly, his eyes made their way to the still figure lying in the bed across from him. Thomas had been cleaned since he last saw him, but he still looked pale and bruised. John felt queasy as the bloodied images of his nightmares flickered across his mind, and he tore his eyes away.
With a growl, he dragged himself from his bed. He saw that a cane had been left leaning against his side table. It was not his own, but it would do. He hefted himself from the mattress and rearranged his pyjamas. Then he slowly made halting progress across the room towards the door. He did not care if he was advised to rest; he would not just sit there and watch the under-butler breathe, battling for his life.
Outside, he found a chair and heavily sank into its hard surface as if it was a plush cushion. Relying on his cane with his ribs bound as tightly as they were was difficult and drained John of what little energy he had. The early morning air was crisp and fresh, and the valet was content to watch the birds chirp from the tree branches.
He had not realised he had started to doze until he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. In his semi-awake fright, he nearly swung his cane at the intruder.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. The nurses said we had a missing patient."
Doctor Clarkson walked around the chair until he was in front of John.
"What are you doing out here? You are meant to be resting, and beds are customary locations for such endeavours."
John shrugged before he could think better of the action, and wince at the twinge he felt through his torso.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Staying abed will be more recuperative than sitting out here in the cold, even if you don't actually fall asleep."
The doctor gestured towards the door, "Your body needs to rest after your ordeal, Mr. Bates. Come, let's go back inside."
John realised this was a battle he would not win and diverted his energies elsewhere.
"When can I go home?"
The doctor helped the other man to his feet as he answered, "As we discussed, I want to keep you here under observation for at least another day."
The two walked slowly towards the door, with the doctor bracing the valet as he stepped.
"I'd like to return home. To my wife. Today, if that's possible."
"I don't think you realise this but complications can arise from bruised ribs. I can't risk something happening and you being too far away and too stubborn to alert me."
"And what happens if I say I understand the risks?"
Dr. Clarkson frowned and searched the valet's face for a moment.
"Stay until this evening. If you're still keen to leave, I can examine you before you go. But if you feel in any way different – if your breathing becomes more laboured or painful, or if you feel tired or ill – anything at all, you must tell me."
By now they had reached the large room where Bates had slept. John sat back down on the bed and looked up at the doctor.
"Of course. Thank you. I will."
Dr. Clarkson hummed briefly before informing the valet that he meant to examine him at that moment as well. He walked away to assemble his kit.
Shortly after Dr. Clarkson finished listening to John's lungs and checking his bindings, Mrs. Hughes entered the hall. She carried with her a large basket.
"Mr. Bates. How lovely it is to see you." She beamed and took a seat next to John.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. It's good to see you again, too."
"I've been allowed some time to visit you. And to make deliveries," she said as she held her basket aloft.
The housekeeper placed the basket on her lap and revealed to John its contents. Several mince pies were nestled in cloth serviettes.
"Mrs. Patmore baked these last night when she heard of your safe return."
John broke into a grin. "You'll have to thank her for me."
"Or you can tell her yourself. Only—I mean, when is it that you'll be back to Downton?"
"I'm not sure, but hopefully sooner rather than later."
"How are you feeling? Mr. Carson or His Lordship won't have you back until you are completely healed, and I'm inclined to agree."
"I'm… fine. I bruised my ribs, but I just need to rest for a while."
Mrs. Hughes grimaced, "It was such ghastly news to hear of your disappearance. You should be impressed to see the size of your search party the other morning."
John fell mute at this. Mrs. Hughes' visit initially brought him joy and had distracted him from his thoughts, but now she was encouraging some of the same thoughts she had helped to banish. He already felt mortified and guilty for needing to be rescued; he did not need to hear about the size of the inconvenience he had caused His Lordship.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates. You alone know how ghastly it truly was. I didn't mean to drudge up memories."
She patted his hand once before turning in her seat to face Thomas.
"And how is young Thomas?"
Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Hughes rose from her seat and approached the unconscious under-butler. She spent a moment absorbing the damage still left on his face before she lifted and held his hand for a moment.
"Poor dear."
John felt his stomach twist.
"You'll be pleased to know Daisy is beside herself to hear news about you, Thomas. Even after all these years, you still have a bit of sway over that impressionable girl."
She replaced his limp hand next to his body, and smoothed a hand over his raven hair.
"Well, I should be heading back," she turned to John, "I'm glad you're well. It's good to see a smile on Anna's face again."
John smiled and bid her goodbye before the housekeeper left. The smile quickly left his face as his gaze settled over the under-butler.