Chapter Fourteen
"Ahkk! Jeez…" Casey winced as he gingerly peeled off the thermal shirt. He looked at the huge rip in the front, shrugged and balled it up and stuffing it into the black plastic bag.
"Whoa!" exclaimed April looking at his shoulder. "Look at that. No wonder it hurt."
Casey looked down at the angry red gouge running from below his collarbone up to nearly his shoulder.
"How'd you do that?" asked April, stuffing the rest of the clothes on the bunk into the bag.
"I don't remember. Probably when I was chasin' after Raph. Musta run into somethin'."
April leaned a little closer, frowning at the wound. Casey sat back, a grin twisting across his face. "Ya know, any time you wanna look, I'd be happy to take off my shirt."
April looked up suddenly, blinked, and then playfully socked his arm. "I bet you would!" She raised an eyebrow. "It's a good thing we're going to do some laundry today, other wise we'd all have to be running around…" she paused. "Oh, never mind. Casey, you are just awful!"
"Me?" he grinned even wider. "Why me? What'd I do?" He leaned toward her. "Gotcha all distracted, didn't I?"
"No, you didn't." April kept her eyes averted. "Ok, is there anything else? Oh, I know." She stood and went to the trailer door, calling out "Lia? You got anything that needs to be washed? Oh my, here it comes again."
"What's that?" asked Casey.
"The rain."
Lia ducked into the trailer, Rose on her hip. "Yeah, I do actually." She set Rose down and pulling the overstuffed pack out from under the bunk, added to the growing laundry pile. "Thanks, April," she said.
"You sure you don't want to come with us?" asked April.
Lia shook her head. "They all thought I should stay here, with Splinter. It's ok. I'm still pretty sore from that dart. Splinter said it was a paralyzing drug, and that's why my muscles hurt."
April frowned. "You going to be ok?"
"Oh, yeah. They want me to keep drinking that tea. Blech. Tastes really bad, though."
"Well, if the rain keeps up everyone's going to have to cram in here I guess." April peeked out the small window. "Wonder where Splinter and the boys are."
"I don't know where they are. I haven't seen Sean or Jake since Leo and Mike left. I guess Splinter's with them."
"Hell," said Casey standing and pulling on another thermal shirt only slightly less grubby than the one he had taken off. "We never know where Splinter is anyway."
"Dat was dat mans," said Rose, pulling off the too-large ball cap Lia had borrowed from Sean.
"Who was that man?" Lia asked.
"Dat bad poo-poo mans."
"What man? You mean Casey?" Lia asked again, reaching for Rose. Rose jerked away.
"No! Dat udder mans. Dat bad, bad poo-poo mans!"
"Where was the man, Rose?" asked April, catching Lia's concern.
"Out dere!"
Casey stood. "I'll take a look around before we leave. Don't worry," he said to both of them. "I know he looks old and small, but I don't think anyone could catch Splinter unawares."
"Rose," said Lia, trying to keep her voice calm. "Did you see daddy out there?"
"No!" Rose leaned toward her mother and spoke loudly as though perhaps it was Lia's hearing that was the problem. "Dat udder mans!" Rose climbed up onto the bunk, crossed her little arms in front of her. "Hmf!" she pouted. It was plain she was through trying to explain this to these silly people.
"I feel kind of funny leaving everyone here," said April as she and Casey started off down the narrow dirt road through the dense forest.
"Well, I sure as heck wasn't gonna let you go by yourself. Don't worry. Mike and Leo will be back in camp soon. And they'll probably have those other two zip-heads with 'em. It's gonna be alright."
"This trip is going to take awhile, isn't it?"
"Yeah. We won't be back til after dark."
April settled back in the seat, watching the windshield wipers rhythmically swipe at each new splattering of raindrops. For once she hoped that Casey would launch into his story-telling mode. It would give her something to think about and distract her from her fears and growing sense of dread. They'll be alright. Of course they'll be alright. They always are.
Leonardo leaped down from uphill, airborne flying sidekick, his foot smashing into the side of the black form on Michaelangelo's back. All three went tumbling, thrown down the hillside by the force. Michaelangelo ripped the chain from his throat and lay choking, gasping for breath, as Leonardo and the dark attacker locked together, rolling downhill through the wet underbrush. They crashed up against a tree, coming to a jarring stop. The man in black raised a dagger; Leo grabbed the blade hand and fought to free his other hand pinned beneath the man's body. He loomed over Leo; the dagger poised between the two as each struggled for control of the weapon.
"This is just terrific." Cryssie shivered, wrapped in her green army fatigue jacket. She watched Adam's third attempt at starting a fire in the mouth of the small cave. Outside the rain thundered down, singing on the surface of the shallow stream.
"Well, Princess, if I'd have known it was going to be so cold here this time of year I'd have brought an electric blanket," grumbled the young man.
"Don't call me that!" snapped Cryssie. She looked down hugged her knees to herself. "Oh well. I know it's not your fault. It's supposed to be warm and humid here in June."
"Humidity we got!"
"Probably just as well," Cryssie glanced toward the far back end of the low-ceilinged shelter, though it was too dark to see anything. "If it was warm that thing would probably be stinking to high heaven by now."
Adam was leaning down, blowing on the bit of pine needles as they smoked. "Oh, look. There we go…." He added a bit more kindling, and the small, smoky fire grew slowly. There was a good bit more smoke than fire.
Cryssie coughed. "We're going to asphyxiate!"
"Wait, wait," said Adam, also coughing. "Give it a chance. It's getting better." He threw another handful of stuff on.
"I don't think so!" Cryssie choked.
"We probably need is more dry stuff," said Adam as the cave continued to fill with smoke.
"You need to change the angle of the draft."
"What?" asked Adam waving his hands to chase the smoke.
"I didn't say anything!" Cryssie took off her hat and waved it blindly. "I can't see!"
"I said you need to change the angle of the draft."
"What?" Cryssie squinted her eyes against the stinging smoke.
"If you had something like a tarp you could rig it like a chimney and draft the smoke out."
"Who said that?" Adam waved his arms blindly.
"Me. Your dead turtle."
"Aaakhhh!" screamed Cryssie jumping up and hitting her head on the roof of the cave.
"Holy shit!" yelled Adam, grabbing Cryssie's arm and the two of them tumbled out of the cave, scattering their smoking pieces of wood.
"There was probably a better way to have done that," sighed Donatello, following them out into the rain.
Cryssie and Adam stumbled back into the stream. Adam fell and landed in the shallow water as Cryssie slipped and landed on top of him. Splashing and slipping they scrambled backwards, staring at the muddy creature emerging from the mouth of the cave.
"Take it easy," said Donatello, rubbing his eyes. "Ow. Man. I'm starving. You guys got anything to eat?"
The two young people sat in the water, staring in mute terror.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." Don looked down at his mud-caked body. "Guess I look pretty bad. My name's Don. Uh…hi. I'm not really dead."
"What- what the hell are you?" asked Adam.
"You know, I get that a lot. I'm a turtle," replied Don, bending over and washing himself in the stream.
"H-how can you talk?" stammered Cryssie.
"Air being forced over my vocal chords as I exhale, combined with the movements of my mouth and tongue." Don stood up, shaking the water from his hands. "Whew. That was nasty. Did you put me back in that cave?"
Adam gulped nodded.
"Well, you may have saved my life. I thank you. Would it safe to assume you have just drenched your only clothing?" He smiled disarmingly at the two humans sitting forlornly in the icy cold water. They were dressed identically in army fatigue jackets, baggy khakis, and knit caps over short-cropped bleached blond hair.
"What?" asked Adam, utterly confused.
"You're all wet. I know some folks who may be able to loan you some…" Don paused and frowned. "How long have I been in there?"
"A-about three days."
"Whoa," Don cupped his chin. "Boy, I bet everyone's wondering what happened to me. I need to get back to my campground." He looked around in the water. "You, uh, didn't happen to see a long, wooden stick anywhere around here, did you?"
"Shh. Just sit quietly, sweetie," said Lia and gave Rose the yellow marking pen and a sheaf of paper. "Why don't you draw me something," she whispered. Rain drummed steadily on the tin roof of the travel trailer.
Rose pulled the cap off the pen and sat on the floor. "Where's Yeo?" she asked.
"With Mike," Lia whispered.
"Where's Shawm?"
"I don't know…"
"Where's um…where's um…Jake?"
"I…I'm not sure."
"Where's S'pinter?"
"I don't know, sweetie. We just looked for them, remember? I don't know where anyone is. Why don't you just draw for a while." Lia quickly moved back to the door and locked it.
Ok, ok. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why everyone seems to have disappeared. I'm sure.
She glanced around the trailer, tapping her teeth with a fingernail. Lia considered the lightweight, blue-spackle camp cookware, wishing she had one of Belladonna's heavy cast iron pots. Remembering something large she saw under the bunk when she had retrieved her pack, she knelt down. Lia reached and pulled out a black-sheathed sword. "Oh my," she murmured.
She sat cross-legged on the bunk laying the weapon across her lap. It didn't look like Leonardo's katana. The sheath was black lacquered wood, with a delicate red dragon painted on the side. The hilt guard was oval, and ornately fashioned in gold in the form of a tiger, instead of a naked silver square. Lia slowly unsheathed the sword. The blade certainly looked sharp enough. She gripped the hilt in both hands, holding the sword upward before her, feeling its weight, and took a deep breath.
Everything is just fine. Everyone will be back in just a few minutes. It's all ok. But just in case it isn't….I'm ready.
Yeah, right.
The attacker was bearing down, pressing down on him, the dagger flashed, inches from his eyes, as Leonardo fought to hold it off. The man was impossibly strong. The lower part of his face was swathed in black fabric, but for an instant Leonardo had the impression he recognized him. The almond shaped eyes; they were -no! They were all wrong. Flat black, no whites, no irises- inky black pits—
How could a man this size weigh so much?
Leo set his teeth, flexing his trapped arm, fighting to free his legs to kick. Every muscle in his body bulged and strained to escape.
The man hissed, a gleeful, mocking expression burning across what could be seen of the face. Leonardo's nostrils were filled with the stench of something long ago dead, something rotting. He gagged despite himself.
Flattening himself down, sinking back into the soft earth beneath him, as if relenting, he relaxed his body, though not the hold on the arm that held the knife so close to his face. He paused, and then snapped up, arching, lifting the man on top of him a fraction, enough to get a leg under him, enough to jam a knee up into him—
He savagely threw him aside and leaped to his feet. The dark assailant scrambled backwards, unnaturally fast, like a video on rewind, and plunged into the dense undergrowth down the steep hillside.
"Do we follow?" gasped Mike, suddenly at his side, his voice rough and breathless.
Leo stood, breathing hard, eyes on the hillside below them. "No, not that way. You ok?"
Mike nodded. "S'all good," he croaked.
"I think we need to get back, quickly. I have a really bad feeling."
Lia listened to the rain drumming steadily on the roof. It drowned all other sound. Rose was engrossed in her drawing. That was good. She wasn't chattering. Lia wanted to hear everything. She was feeling less and less at ease, and while part of her mind was angrily berating herself for her fear, another part was whispering that this time it may be justified.
Justified, but not helpful.
Not afraid. Not afraid. Not afraid.
She focussed on the spine of the sword she held before her, wondering if perhaps this was Splinter's weapon. What was it he had said that night? Learning to overcome fear took much practice.
How do I practice being not afraid? I'm not even sure what ' not afraid' feels like.
The rain seemed to get louder. It pounded on the tin roof. Outside it grew darker. Rose looked up suddenly from her scribbling.
"What was dat, Mommy?"
"What was wha-?"
The electric light popped and shattered, plunging the trailer into shadow. The wind suddenly rose outside and the trailer swayed with a groan. Something outside thumped. Lia gripped the sword, and turned to the door just as it blew open with a crash, rain and icy wind howling in.
Rose shrieked. Someone dark and huge flew in through the open door, on the roar of the wind. Lia swung wildly at him with the sword, and was flung back onto the bed, the weight of his body crushing down on top of her, the hilt of the sword suddenly turned and pressed up against her throat. Lia screamed, and fought to push it away. She found herself staring horrified into black, soulless eyes, flat and empty, like a shark's. His face was shadowed, hidden in black fabric. The man held her down, crushing her nearly breathless beneath his weight. She could hear Rose, huddled somewhere on the floor, whimpering in terror. Her hands were held fast, his weight and strength overwhelming. He brought one knee up between her legs, and the face twisted into a leer.
"No!" Lia gasped back in his face. He leaned closer and she caught the scent of dark, dank catacombs, moldering with rotting flesh - -
Lia nearly retched, felt as though she was falling backwards, dizzily close to fainting. Her vision went gray and she felt his ropy arms around her, lifting her.
No…!
The door again - Lia's captor leaped back, releasing her. She struggled up onto her elbows, saw him crouch, perched oddly on the counter, too large to be there, Michaelangelo reaching to grab him, Leonardo crowding in behind him, shouting at him to stand back, Donatello in the doorway—
Donatello!
The man leaped feet first, against the opposite wall, clinging like a lizard for an instant at an impossible angle on the storage cabinet door. He sprang again, somehow eluding Leonardo's blade and jumped for the door, bowling Donatello over as he escaped.
Lia slipped off the bunk and curled protectively around Rose, backing far into the corner.
"Mommy—d- d- da –da- dats dat mans!" Lia held her, rocking, soothing Rose, and trying to calm herself.
"Don! Wait! Don't chase him!" she heard Leonardo's shout outside the trailer. Mike knelt next to her. "You ok?"
Lia nodded wordlessly, hugging Rose.
"What happened?" Leonardo was back inside the trailer.
Lia looked up "He just – just came in here. I tried - I tried to -"
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
Donatello stepped back inside.
"Don—you –you—are you ok?" Lia asked.
"Yeah…I'm fine, thanks, Lia. It's a long story. Uh, where is everybody?"
"I don't - I don't know where anyone else is," she realized she was shaking almost too hard to talk.
"We'll find them. Come here," Mike helped Lia to her feet. Rose still clung to her like a small fluffy blond primate.
Leonarado picked up the ornate sword lying on the bunk and looked at Lia. "What did you …?"
"I-I tried – I tried to- but I couldn't-" Lia took a deep breath and got some control back, and nodded her head at the sword in his hands. "Leo, you are going to have to teach me how to use that."
Leonardo looked at the sword, and then back at her. "Ok," he said. "I can do that."
"I mean it, Leo. I hate this. I hate being so- so- I couldn't even protect my own child!"
"Ok," Leo repeated, watching her color flush as fear turned to anger.
Mike sucked in his cheeks, suppressing a smile. His eyes danced as he glanced over at Leonardo. "Come on Don, let's find your new friends before Splinter does and gives 'em something else to freak out about." Mike put a hand on Leo's shoulder, giving it a meaningful squeeze.
"I dunno," said Don. "They were right behind us, but if they saw any that, they may have already split. Poor kids." Mike and Don slipped back out.
"I'm gonna go and help them look for…" Leo paused. "Are you ok?" he asked Lia.
"Yeah. I am now. I'm just so mad at myself…"
"Lia, this will never happen again."
"I don't think you can say that, Leo. Alex sent that man. I know it. He's not going to give up. I have to find a way to…"
"No. I mean I made a mistake before. I won't make it again. The next time Skylord is anywhere near you, it will be his last time."
Lia blinked. "What do you…?"
"I mean there's only one way to be sure. There's only one way I can know you'll be safe."
Lia looked down, moving little Rose to one hip. She bit her lip. "Don't... please don't do something like that for me."
"I'm not. I'm doing it for me."
He took a step back. He had to get out of there. He had to stop watching her face, stop staring at her mouth trembling like fragile, pink flower, stop looking at the curve of her slender shoulders and needing to pull her into his arms again—just stop!
"Leo!" The shout came from outside. He pushed open the door and started out, and froze.
Mike and Don were hurrying toward him, Mike helping a stumbling Sean along. In Don's arms lay the small, still, body of Splinter.
Raphael first became aware of his body being unable to move. He drifted in and out listening to the rain hitting the surface of water somewhere. He felt cold, freezing cold, and then he felt the dull pain in his legs, arms, and shoulders. For a very long time he lay face down in a shallow pool of water, unable to lift his head. Then he heard something besides the rain.
It was a snuffling sound, and the soft squashy noise of feet in the mud all around him. The snuffling sound came closer. Feeling a warm breath on his face, Raphael tried to lift his head. There was a sudden movement as something leaped back and splashed in the puddles. It approached again, sniffing and panting.
Raphael was able to put together a coherent thought. Some animal wants to eat me, and I can't move. He managed to close his hands into loose fists, and tried to brace them against the muddy ground. With every ounce of will, he fought to make his frozen muscles obey. He raised his head enough to turn to one side, letting his cheek drop weakly back into the mud. He snorted the creek water out of his nostrils and sucked in his first breath of air in ten hours. His next breaths were painful and sharp. He opened his eyes. Through the blur of muddy water Raphael found himself gazing into a pair of bright golden canine eyes. A large timber wolf sat on the bank above him, less than six feet away, watching him curiously.
The paralyzed turtle tried to make a noise in his throat, hoping for something growlish to scare the predator off. No sound came. He tried again to move, but found with his head turned to one side, he had even less leverage and strength in his arms. His legs lay like stone.
This, thought Raphael, in his second coherent thought, is just completely fucking wonderful.
The wolf stood again, and approached. He snuffed at Raphael's head, his breath warm on the turtle's neck, then stepped back uncertainly. He circled the motionless reptile, and whined a little. He moved in closer again, and nosed Raphael's arm pit. He shoved his nose further under Raphael's arm, and pushed it, as if trying to get under him. His wet nose moved all around the cool reptilian skin of the turtle's arm, until his teeth found something. Raphael felt the animal licking and worrying one spot behind his shoulder, and then felt the wolf's teeth, pressed against his skin. He felt a tug, and a sharp pain, and realized the wolf was pulling on something buried in Raph's flesh.
The animal jerked back on the poison dart, dropped it, and cocked his head, looking at it. He put his nose in the water, making a strange snurfling and bubbling noise as he tried to smell it underwater. He yipped at it, splashing his front paws at it, then whined a little and shook himself off, more water droplets flying through the drizzle. The wolf then turned and trotted over to the bank of the creek again. He lay down in the grass, as the rain began to lighten and dissipate. The clouds slowly yielded to small brave patches of blue as the morning's storm passed.
The timber wolf kept a silent vigil over Raphael as the turtle slowly began to feel the blood move into his limbs again, and the fierce beating of his heart grew stronger and stronger.