"Trager and I will meet you there. You have to go without worry, dear. We will be safe," he says, guaranteeing a promise that feels impossible to keep.
A raw throat leaves his voice sounding scratched; a chill creeps along his spine and sends his gut plummeting. The feeling of dread is vicious, like a tornado sweeping aside his insides and leaving devastation in its wake. Eddie looks at her - catches her stare and truly looks at her - and her face reflects the storm brewing within.
Terror lies behind the contortion of her expression; she wants to punch him, to fight tooth and nail until he gives and allow her to stay. "There're too many of them," Waylon has to shout in order to be heard over the crowd, and her voice cracks halfway through it. So desperate, it's all so clear on her face and it makes something in him break.
Her flushed cheeks are ravishing, he notes though his thoughts are flowing in rapid succession. Eddie presses closer to her while scanning the area, noting the variants' speed and proximity – too close for comfort, it's hard to breathe, and they're surrounded. Trager stands a bit apart from them bearing a smug expression that irks Eddie to no end. Bastard. But his attention strays from the doctor after about a second and he goes back to surveying his love.
Eddie cannot deny the aesthetic and silly romantic air to their situation. Internally, he compliments all of Waylon's features, wasting no time to dwell in order to imprint the entire image in his head. He hears the rioting all around him but in this moment his course of action seems so simple. Capture his love, his darling Waylon, and then set her free. Eddie's heart skips as he recognizes this, realizing that there are many paths to take but they will all lead to similar endings. The conclusion is the same – the end does not justify the means. Waylon is searching for answers in his eyes but he suspects that they are too dark to decipher. If she keeps staring she will sooner or later drown in them, and he is likely to perish in hers.
How can she look so beautiful in the mist of fear? A deep yearning pulls at his chest and all he desires is to hug her close and protect her, take her warmth and claim it as his own. If only he could take her to a place far from here, build her a home and give her as many children as she desires. They could be happy together – they could stay alive together. Her eyes are stunning as she parts her alluring lips to speak, and in this moment Eddie deeply wishes to pull her forward and lay their lips together in a fierce kiss.
Instead, he turns Waylon by her shoulders and allow Trager to shove her away until she is sprinting on her own, small form slipping past the variants mostly unscathed. Trager shouts in excitement and slaps his arm, twirling his bone shears with his other hand while Eddie follows Waylon's movement until she disappears. It pains him to see her leave; yet, knowing that she is safe removes the heavy weight of dread set on his shoulders. And he feels it too, as if the notion isn't figurative and is actually literal.
No matter, Eddie thinks as he lifts the knife in defense, ready for the first wave of variants to attack. Waylon will be safe until he can find her. And if he doesn't make it…well, at least he died fighting for the one he loves.
"Kill them!"
The fight is a dance of blurred limbs and fire-spitting agony. His swings are precise, aiming for the quickest and easiest kill so he can move on to the next one. Go for the face, stab them in the jugular, hit hard and fast until they are using each other for balance. Keep moving – move, move, move – so the variants never know where to look. Trager yanks Eddie to him a split second before a splintered plank of wood could be barreled down on him. Their glance is brief in tense appreciation before both turn on Eddie's attacker and stab him without second thought, Trager's shears in his gut while Eddie's knife is splitting his eye. The pair pull away with a sloppy sound.
"Eddie," he hears Trager say to his left before grunting around a variant that has decided to charge at him. The man's statue is a mountain in comparison, but immediately becomes a disadvantage when he shuffles in close range. Easily, the doctor slips under the variant's massive arm and catches the fat hanging from it with his shears. He snaps the blades closed just in time for Eddie to turn and be splashed in the face with disgustingly warm blood. Some seeps between his lips and an immense taste of iron cloud his senses.
Momentarily unaware of his surroundings, Eddie doesn't catch the two variants moving to restrain him until one is grabbing a fistful of hair and the other is being punched in the face by Trager. He jerks back, not out of it, a move the pale man wasn't expecting, and slams the top of his head into the variant's chin. A feral howl leaves the variant before it is replaced with a cry of pain and a gurgle, suddenly being strung up in the air by a sharp blade and strong arm. Eddie throws him to the ground and stomps on his chest for good measure.
The crowd is endless, creature after creature moving in to have their turn at the two. Some huddle in wide ovals to watch, while most either pick fights with each other or sprint in an attempt to catch Trager or Eddie off guard. Their screams are deafening, a torrent of broken words and chants resounding through the courtyard and spiraling up into the air. Trager calls Eddie again but he isn't sure where the voice is coming from. Time does not allow him to carefully target the doctor, and the sharp sting of something nipping his collar pulls him back to the fight. He was on the verge of giving up on looking for Trager when familiar fingers curl around his bicep and pull his backwards.
The next time Trager speaks, warm breath tickles Eddie's ear. "Over on that wall, behind me, there's a ladder. It's red. Look at it." Trager shoves Eddie behind him and jerks his head towards the brick wall. "See it?"
"Yes," Eddie says after spotting the camouflaged ladder. It leans against the high wall carefully, looking about stable enough to support a leaf. The red paint on the ladder matches the rusted brick, and if he hadn't known what he was looking for Eddie isn't sure that he would have found it so easily; although, the ladder is not all that grabs his attention. Variants crowd around it, too, but the groups are scattered and leave an open path that beelines straight to the ladder. It's narrow and would be a tight squeeze, but a short glimpse at Trager tells Eddie that his idea is not far-fetched.
It's insane.
They move quickly, fending off as many attackers as they can, but the punches and stabs come is a flurry that is hard to keep up with. While Eddie is lifting his arm to block a punch to his face, another variant comes and kicks him right in the side, knocking wind out of his lungs and causing him to stumble to the right. He gasps for air, vision crossing for a couple seconds before he blinks and tries to align the world. Screams ring in his ears, laughter sounds above it all, and Trager's stunted words are shouting at him to "Hurry the fuck up."
He obeys with a grunt, and accidentally cut his finger when he tried to holster his knife. They fight through another wave of amused variants before the ladder is finally within reach. Trager sprints to it – his legs wobble and his breathing is loud, more like hiccups – and shakes the base of the ladder. It wobbles, but doesn't teeter to the side so he twirls the shears into their place at his side and uses both of his hands to climb. Eddie is right behind him now, following the doctor closely. Eddie's hands replace Trager's feet as they climb, and he avoids looking at the ground (or directly up, for that matter).
He can still hear the variants below, cooing and shouting and making a mockery of any civility that was ever kept in the asylum. But these men were never civil, and the officials tortured them into being less than savages. Eddie feels a pang of anger in his chest and pain in his temple; his cheek feels warm but he has no free hand to scratch it. Above him, Trager's breath hitches and he curses, the word sounding like the whisper of a man on his deathbed.
"Buddy," he says quietly, only audible because of their distance over the others. "Stop moving."
Cocking his head to the side and frowning, Eddie obliges.
The air is cool up here, breezing past them lazily as if the chaos below is but a common occurrence. Which, technically, it is, yet after weeks of destruction the extreme anarchy still feels new. Fresh and revolting, it sits in the back of Eddie's mind when the silence stretches for far too long. His palms feel sweaty around the rusted metal, and the cut on his smallest finger bleeds gently. He has the urge to wipe it off but believes that if he lets go he will fall, so he settles for ignoring the thin trail. Another casual gust of wind wrap around him, and Eddie feels the question on his lips build until it becomes unbearable. He is opening his mouth to ask it when he notices the gentle shift of his feet.
They moved, to the right, without him actually moving. Eddie tightens his grip around the bar and glances down at his feet. They are still, one foot above the other since he stopped mid-climb. A moment of passes before the shift happens again, this time he feels his entire body move. And in the next, he lurches backward and then forward, banging his forehead against the bar.
"They're shaking us!" Trager shouts but Eddie can already hear those vile degenerates cat-calling them. He loops his arms through the bars until he is holding on by his elbows. The variants howl in laughter before shaking the ladder again, trying to jerk it in multiple directions at once which causes the ladder to wobble and slide on the grass. The end of the ladder taps the wall.
"We have to go!" Eddie yells and slaps the man's heel to send the message. He catches a glimpse of Trager nodding but hits his foot again until it moves.
Eddie's heart pounds in urgency, gaze dropping to the courtyard and noting how the ladder is giving more easily to the variants now. It lurches left and right, backwards and forwards, meanwhile sliding further down the grass. They are climbing at an angle now that the top of the ladder has lowered. Trager curses again when the ladder wobbles and he misses the step. His foot skids off the bar and slips through the hole, causing his pelvis to slam against the sides of the ladder. The variants must have noticed this, for their shoves increase in ferocity and the ladder actually creaks.
Eddie holds Trager by the thigh and tries to lift him from the hole. "They're going to knock this thing down, Trager."
"I fucking know that."
"Then get out of there before they do," Eddie growls and shoves Trager's thigh harshly. The doctor kicks back pathetically, probably aiming to hit Eddie, before pulling himself up by the arms and swinging out of the gap. They waste no time moving once Trager is out, Eddie viciously noting every tremble and waver from the ladder. Not too far ahead of them is a window, closed and to the side but close enough for them to open and slink inside if they moved fast enough.
It's difficult to remain balanced, but soon they are at the top of the ladder, Eddie holding on to Trager with one hand as the man tries to pull the window open. It refuses to give for far too long, coming down on Trager's fingers whenever he found leverage and making him repeat the process. Eddie is anxious, a cloud of doubt and distaste hovering over his senses as the ladder slowly slides further from the wall, steepness dropping to the point where they are climbing like monkeys on all fours.
"Trager-"
The window snaps open and Trager swats at Eddie's hand. "Opened. I'm going in," he says.
He shuffles from the ladder to the window and starts to move inside when the ladder makes an unexpected jolt down the wall. His chin hits the window sill, slamming Trager's mouth closed and the crack that follows sends a chill down Eddie's spine.
Silence is suffocating, but Eddie is too wary to break it. Instead, he places his hand on Trager's back. "Are you…?" He holds his breath until the body gives a shudder and Trager growls deep in his throat. Eddie recoils, heart back to thumping loudly, and watches as Trager moves his jaw as he crawls inside the building.
He follows Trager close behind, not testing his luck with how unstable the ladder - along with its aggressors - is. He is reminded of Columbus discovering the New World when he grabs onto the window sill and curls his fingers around it for a better grip. The feeling is exhilarating, grounding, and relieving. It is easier to breathe once his head is inside, and when he kicks off the ladder, sending it falling to the ground, and pulls his legs through the window the knot in gut loosens immensely.
Eddie allows himself a moment to breathe on the floor as Trager closes the window. They are in one of the Catholic dorms; he can tell from the array of rotated crosses on the wall and the perfectly made twin beds on either side of them. The only other set of bedrooms in the asylum are for the staff that had to stay here, and Eddie still isn't sure where those are located.
Trager maneuvers past him and sighs loudly, the stretch making his jaw crack again. He looks at Eddie with a wild gaze. "Any bruises?"
Eddie's pinky stings and he flexes it absentmindedly. His scalp aches, and now that he thinks about it there's a dull soreness on every part of his body; although, he doesn't spot any blood or concerning marks. Eddie uses the edge of the bed to help him stand as he says, "A couple here and there but nothing serious. How's your jaw?"
"Shit," Trager spits and frowns as he cups his chin. The action pulls his skin and reveals a diagonal cut running from the corner of his mouth to somewhere under his hand; blood has already coagulated there.
Chancing a glance out of the window, Eddie sees the variants scatter into individual groups again, similar to how they were before he and Trager had entered the courtyard. They're still yelling, but the volume has lowered.
Whores. Filthy, dirty, disgusting whores. Eddie's fist clench at his side and he grits his teeth, beginning to feel the burn of anger swell in his chest. His body aches, pain coursing through him; it radiates in some spots and simmers in others. He notes some of their faces and presses it into his memory for the next time he sees them. Oh, if he could have them to himself, they would regret ever trying to touch him or Trager. Or his darling.
There's an ache in his chest that isn't a result of pain. It rests low and hollow, empty, and he swallows thickly in an attempt to rid himself of the feeling. His darling; in the time of her departure he had almost forgotten about her, so concerned with his own safety. Is she safe? Did she make it to the church? Eddie looks across the courtyard to the church and sees the orange light of flames licking and shattering windows.
"Where are you-" Trager starts when Eddie storms past him and out the door.
Eddie doesn't slow down when he answers, "Waylon," and feels a bit of gratefulness when he hears Trager's footsteps trailing behind him.
"Have you kissed her yet?"
Eddie's cheeks warm; however, he's going to blame it on the smoke rising high on the ceiling. The smoke thickens as they near the church, burning their lungs and restricting air to the point where Eddie advised crouching so they could see and breathe easier. His clothes stick to him uncomfortably and he's drenched in sweat. Layers drip down his back and over his eyes, warm against hot skin. He would take off his vest and possibly his shirt, but that would slow him down and every second on the clock counts.
They turn a corner and is met with a low wall of flames burning brightly and creeping up the wall. Eddie doesn't speak until they've stepped over it. "Just the thought makes my heart flutter, but she is shy, and if I force myself upon her too quickly," he pauses, "she will…run away."
"Again."
"Again," Eddie nods.
Trager shakes his head. "You'll be waiting for an eternity then, my friend. Isaac recognized this."
"Who is Isaac?"
"Newton…" Trager answers and gives Eddie an incredulous look, but how could Eddie be blamed for not knowing who someone was when the bastard didn't think to mention his last name? He keeps his mouth shut though and waits for the doctor to continue. "First Law of Motion, Gluskin: an object at rest will stay at rest."
A window breaks somewhere behind them and the pair walk faster. Here, the hallway feels like Hell. Fire stretches all around them, burning from the ceiling and dropping little chips of wood like kindling over their shoulders. Just for protection (that's the excuse he's giving), Eddie strips out of his vest and holds it over his head. In his peripheral he can see Trager eyeing him with a smirk as if the fire is child's play and he's been through worse.
A quick glance at the stitches along the width of Trager's abdomen makes him rethink.
"What's your point?" he prompts once they're clear of most of the fire. The church's doors have been burned down, leaving it open to expel mushroom clouds of grey smoke and copious heat. Eddie wraps the vest around his mouth and nose in an attempt to filter the air.
Trager puts his hand over his nose. "My point is that your dear Waylon will stay at rest until an outside force is acted upon her."
"She will run," Eddie argues.
"She is afraid and lost and alone. She has you, only you, and the only way she'll recognize this is if you woo her." Trager kicks away a burning piece of something dark and grimaces immediately after. "You're like a lion, Gluskin. You can't lure in a gazelle if you make your intentions known."
"But she loves me and knows that we will marry soon. If I have to wait until after our marriage to claim her lips, then I will. I," something flashes in front of him and he narrows his eyes to peer through the smoke. The flashing light is green. "I want to avoid scaring her away again. Love is not something that I expect you to understand, Trager-"
Trager scoffs. "Offensive."
"But I must not tempt losing her again. She has… she is a dream, and I do not desire waking up."
They come to an elevator and stop there, Trager's curiosity perking faster than Eddie's and leading him inside. He inspects the small space by patting the walls and staring at the flashing light. A key is already turned in the keyhole.
"Do you think it still works?" Eddie asks as he steps inside, grateful for the lack of smoke in it. It must have been used recently.
Trager cracks his jaw as he runs his fingers along the single floor option. "Looks like it. Think someone has been in here recently?"
"Sure," Eddie says.
With a grin and glint in his eye far too mischievous to be good, Trager presses the green button and steps back as the metal gates close. "How about we go say hi to them, then?" he practically laughs before nudging Eddie's side with his elbow. "You said you didn't want to wake up."
It's not a question. Eddie remains quiet.
Trager clasps his hands behind his back and lifts his chin, looking at Eddie from the corner of his eye. His voice is low when he says, "Don't wait for it then."
Don't.
Wait.
The elevator jolts to a sudden stop, jerking the two forward. Eddie braces himself against the wall and groans, clenching his eyes shut because something is making them burn. As if hundreds of locusts were swarming the elevator, a roaring buzz wraps around them. He waves his arms to swat at them yet hits nothing. The insects evade him, but the longer he tries to fight them off the more confusing the buzzing becomes. Because he's not hitting anything. There's nothing but air; cold air, moving air, air that twists and turns and makes his skin prickle.
With great effort he manages to force his eyes open and see nothing but blackness. The dark is shifting, waving past him and contorting into semi-fluid forms. It is like mist. He cannot see or feel Trager and the realization strikes him hard.
Where is he? What is this? Eddie opens his mouth but no sound leaves his throat. He can't breathe, and the pressure building in his lungs is starting to suffocate him. He grabs blindly and the mist moves around him. He's floating, somehow floating although his feet are clearly on the ground. The floor is solid, right? It's not moving, the air around him is. He is solid, isn't he? Sturdy, still, solid – a wave of lightheadedness washes over him and he feels that he is on the verge of passing out.
His eyes close despite his efforts, and the ground beneath him slips away.
The Engine doesn't have any visuals today?
They must want him to dream – no, rape! Don't make me! Don't make me stop it NO – Eddie's body twitches.
"What did your father make you do, Mr. Gluskin?"
"Were you a good boy for him, Mr. Gluskin?"
"Can you show us what he did to you, Mr. Glus-"
Wait.
The world stops spinning, and the voices recede back into the dark, forgotten places in his mind. Eddie is slow to come to, fighting the blaring light because the darkness was much more comforting. There's a pressure on his chest, not too heavy but enough to limit how much he can breathe. It is solid, soft, and when he goes to push it off of him the thing groans and mumbles something inaudible.
Eddie's eyes shoot open and he sits up much too quickly.
Lying stretched out on his chest is Waylon, her eyebrows furrowed over closed eyes as if Eddie was interrupting her sleep (which he definitely is). An old camcorder lies at her side, and her short hair is a ruffled mess. They are on the floor of some place that reeks of déjà vu, with icy walls and the scent of chlorine bleach. Eddie wants to wake her up, he's so happy to see her, yet he lacks motivation to actually do it.
Well, maybe he should just wait for her to wake up before doing anything. With that decided, he lowers himself back to the pleasantly cool floor and closes his eyes, giving himself to the darkness that is reminiscent of mist.
Note: As a warning in advance, the next chapter will most likely contain very explicit material. I'll make sure to put a warning about it detailing more when it is posted; however, for those who are uncomfortable with the material I will probably post another story (albeit short).