CHAPTER 2

It was dark and damp. He could smell the earth but also something else. Blood and waste. The pit was his home for the last five days. He should have gotten used to it by now. After all, this wasn't the first time his mouth got him thrown there. Blake just hoped this stay won't last as long.

It was the middle of the night and Blake leaned against the wall, huddling up into a ball. Nights were getting cold even here in Singapore and his ragged clothes barely provided any warmth. He was half asleep when the usual pattern of things changed. There was a rumble of engines and a sudden panic all around. Blake stood up, raising his head towards the sky. Was it his imagination? Or were it really airplanes?

The warning whistle and shout from one of the guards confirmed his thoughts. Blake felt a jolt of hope. Maybe this was it? Maybe this was their rescue?

The sound of the falling bomb dashed his hopes away. The explosion rocked the ground and Blake dove down, covering his head as the sound of bombs kept coming, followed by the fire of artillery. On the surface, guards and prisoners screamed from pain and horror, trying to escape, trying to fight or find a place to hide. Blake could hear people running around, could see their shadows in the flickering light of the fires and explosions.

With each explosion the dirt kept falling down on him, along with small rocks and debris. Blake didn't like small spaces. He hated them even more when there was no escape and the world above his head seemed to be coming down.

'I need to get out!' he realized. Any moment a bomb could fall and the pit could crumble, burying him alive. He couldn't just wait here... he had to get out.

Burying his fingers in the dirt, Blake tried climbing up.

It was to no avail.

The walls were smooth and high. The guards made sure there was no way for him to climb up. Still, desperation was a harsh mistress. Blake scrambled upwards, nails digging into dirt. He was near the top, when he felt a weight on his waist.

His heart almost gave out from the scare. He looked down in panic and saw a dark figure clinging to him, pulling him back down into the pit. Another airplane flew right above them, it's roar unnaturally loud. There was a crash and more screaming.

Blake kicked out, trying to dislodge the figure, any logical thought fleeing his mind.

He had to get out!

The weight gave way momentarily and Blake's fingers grasped at the edge of the pit. He was so close! He was almost there!

"Doc!" Someone called out and Blake froze. The figure from down below used the moment and jumped. Strong arms circled Blake's torso and pulled.

Blake's fingers gave way as gravity took over and he was plummeting down along with his attacker.

The landing was softer than he expected. There was a grunt and Blake felt his head connect with something soft, then slide down to the hard surface of the floor.

The pit had vanished.

Somewhere above, the sky was still falling, but the roar... it was like nothing Blake had ever heard before. This was no man made machinery. This was pure force of nature.

It was hard to figure out what was happening. Blake could still smell wet soil... but the smell of rot and dirt was missing. The pit was never this dark before. If nothing else, he could catch a glance at the sky. There was nothing. Just the sound... and the feel of someone next to him.

Charlie.

And the tornado, Blake realized when the sound of tearing wood and falling debris rushed over their heads. There was debris falling, then only silence, broken by harsh breathing.

"I think... it's over," Blake said shakily, meaning not just the tornado but the flashback as well.

Charlie grunted in response.

"Charlie?" Blake asked, suddenly worried. Something wriggled beneath him and only now did Blake realize why the ground felt so soft.

"Get... off," Charlie managed to say and nudged at Blake, then moaned in pain.

Blake quickly scrambled off.

"Bloody hell," he uttered, horrified at the possibility he caused harm to Charlie during his flashback. "What's wrong?" Blake asked hurriedly and reached out blindly. His hand grabbed at a forearm.

Charlie screamed.

Blake let go as if burned.

"Charlie? Talk to me!" Blake wanted to reach out again, to find out what was the problem, to make sure the boy wasn't bleeding out somewhere or dying. But he was afraid to touch him without seeing, without knowing what was wrong.

All he could go on right now was the pained grunts and sounds of Charlie moving around, most likely curling into a ball to protect whatever was hurting.

"Stay still," Blake said, moving as close as he dared to. His mind was running through all the possible scenarios and he cringed at the realization that the fall wasn't just a dream and that he landed on top of Charlie. He could have injured his spine and moving around could make it all worse...

"Just stay still please," Blake muttered and started patting his pockets. He needed light, he needed to see. Where were the blasted matches when he needed them? Ah, there. He felt around the pocket and it was only when he felt the soggy material he realized everything on him was drenched. There was no way the matches would work. Cursing, Blake had given up on the idea of light for the moment.

"Talk to me, Charlie. What's wrong?" he urged and once again reached out, this time much more carefully. When his hand encountered the wet and shivering form, Charlie winced, but didn't yelp this time.

"S-shoulder," he uttered through clenched teeth and Blake softly but methodically moved his hands.

"Right or left?" he asked, trying to keep the questions simple. Charlie sounded to be in a lot of pain and Blake prayed the injury wasn't too serious. He wasn't sure how fast or if even they could get to the hospital at this moment.

"Right," Charlie said then groaned as Blake's fingers reached the part. Charlie was currently lying on his left side, curled up with his arm pressed tight against his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. Blake had one hand on his back, the other followed the line from Charlie's neck down to his shoulder.

Even the lightest touch caused Charlie's breath to hitch and his body to freeze up.

"I'm sorry," Blake apologized, grimacing. He could feel the unnatural angle of the shoulder. "I think it's dislocated."

"Y-yeah, feels... feels like someone... ripped it off," Charlie said in between breaths.

Blake understood. He had managed to dislocate a limb or two before and any wrong move felt as if someone was jabbing a hot needle right into a nerve.

"I need to check it a bit further, but it might be uncomfortable," he warned, waiting for Charlie's acknowledgement.

He received a grunt.

Palpating gently along the joint, Blake was trying to get the feel for the dislocation and make sure no bones were broken. The arm itself seemed to be fine. Unfortunately, there was really no way to find out what damage was done without an x-ray. He could feel the muscles were already tensing up. He stopped his exam of the joint and ran his hand up and down Charlie's spine and neck, feeling for any deformities. Luckily everything else seemed to be fine.

"Are you injured anywhere else, Charlie?" he asked anyway, hoping not to get any more bad news.

"Don't think so," Charlie said and it was clear he was trying to get a handle on the pain.

"Good, that's good," Blake noted with relief. A dislocated shoulder wasn't life threatening. Blake himself didn't feel injured, except for his pride for the flashback and possibly causing Charlie's injury by falling on top of him. His priority right now was to find some source of light and get Charlie out of there so he could treat him.

"Try not to move. I'll open the door and see if we can get some help." Blake stood up and tried to orientate himself. Now... which way was the door? Blake made a few shuffling steps, deciding to head the way Charlie's feet were pointing.

"Wait!" Charlie called out and Blake heard him try to move.

"Charlie! Stay put!" he admonished. "What's the matter?" he asked when he heard Charlie go still.

"Is it... safe? Won't it come back?"

Blake paused, then shook his head. It wasn't like they had that much experience with tornadoes in Australia.

"I think you mean the eye of the hurricane?" he pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah," Charlie admitted a bit sheepishly.

"There might be more tornadoes, but... we won't know unless we check outside."

"Just... be careful, Doc."

"I am always careful," Blake noted and smiled when he heard the resounding snort. "Well, almost always," he added as he reached into the darkness, trying to feel his way around.

There was nothing in front of him at his shoulder height and he wondered just how far did they fall. But then his foot hit a stair. Blake cursed as he jammed his big toe.

"Doc?"

"I'm fine," he quickly reassured Charlie before the man would attempt to get up again. "Just being clumsy," he muttered as he blindly followed the stairs. There were eight of them, until he reached the steel door. He could see a sliver of light shining through a cranny in the corner and even just that sliver of light brought relief.

The world hasn't ended yet.

Blake's hands located the latch and he pulled it open, then he pushed at the door. It didn't budge.

Blake blinked, for a moment uncomprehending. Was there another latch? Should he try and pull?

No, that didn't work either. Blake felt the panic returning. It seemed that they were stuck. In the damp darkness, in a small hole underground. He leaned his shoulder into the door with more force, grunting and pushing and cursing. The door moved barely a few millimetres. Something rattled above and he realized that there must be debris blocking their way out. A wall or a tree... Blake didn't know. All that mattered was that they couldn't get out.

Breathing was becoming hard and Blake imagined the air was running out. How long can the two of them stay in a cellar? How much air was there? How much space?

His brain was already in a panic mood, when a familiar voice broke through.

"Doc? What's... what happened? Doc?!"

It was Charlie. He was worried and in pain. Charlie, with his hurt shoulder, trying to get up to check on Blake because he was panicking.

Blake shook off his fear and attempted to calm his breathing.

"Nothing. It's okay, just stay where you are," Blake reassured and despite the deep urge to rush against the door and try to get out, he did the exact opposite. He turned away from the exit and slowly made his way back to Charlie.

"We are... stuck?" Charlie asked, correctly surmising the situation.

"For the time being, I'm afraid so," Blake said, trying to sound much calmer and more composed than he felt.

This time it was Charlie who cursed.

"I can't but agree," Blake said with a sigh. "By any chance, do you have a lighter on you? Or a torch?"

Charlie snorted. It wasn't as if they had time or the presence of mind to grab anything from the car. At the moment their only priority was to get into safety.

"There should... should be a light in here?" Charlie said, trying to sit up. He let out a pained hiss and Blake held his palm over his chest, keeping him still.

"Easy," he soothed. "If there's a light, I can find it myself."

"Can't... can't you fix it?"

"Fix what?"

"My arm," Charlie grunted. "I want to help."

Blake shook his head and sighed.

"That's what I need the light for. I want to take a look, before doing anything else."

"What about... the door?"

"Can't open it. Something must've fallen on top of it I think. But maybe with light we can find another way out... or a crowbar at least."

Charlie hummed his assent. Blake gave his uninjured arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Just hang in there and we will fix this," Blake said, this time speaking to both of them. The panic from being stuck was still there, trying to get to the forefront of his mind, but at the moment he managed to focus on Charlie's pained breaths.

He was a doctor. He had to help. That was his purpose after all. So Blake ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and the urge to start banging on the door in lieu of focusing his senses. Touch. At the moment that was the only sense he could really count on to help. He stood and carefully made his way over to the closest wall. It felt like brick.

For a second Blake entertained the idea that he could maybe just find a light switch, but that was wishful thinking. He would be lucky not to encounter any spiders or other critters usually dwelling in cellars.

Now having to brush away the thought of possibly poisonous spiders as well, Blake slowly made his way across the cellar, trying to get a layout in his head. Counting steps from one corner to the other, until he finally reached some shelves. He could tell there were jars, most likely with jam and other preserves. At least he hoped it was something edible, in case they were stuck here for a longer period of time. He carefully moved his hand over them, not wanting to break anything. Finally, at the end of one shelf he felt a familiar shaped object.

"Eureka!" he called out when he took hold of what was undoubtedly a torch. Big and heavy, but a torch nevertheless. He flicked the switch.

The torch blinked to light, blinding both of them... then promptly turned dark.

"Bloody hell!" Blake cursed and gave the torch a good smack.

The light came back on.

Blake blinked, rubbing at his eyes and trying to adjust to the sudden light. The torch was strong, but the slight buzzing sound didn't give Blake much confidence that it will last long. He needed to see and check everything out before the torch decided it had enough.

He gave the cellar one quick sweep, looking for a boarded up window or anything that could be used to help pry the door open. He haven't spotted anything helpful. The cellar seemed to be empty except for the shelves stacked with produce and preserves. Well... at least they wouldn't die of hunger or thirst for a while.

First order of business then. Helping Charlie.

Blake turned the light towards where his friend was. Charlie twitched at the sudden light shining into his eyes and inadvertently moved his injured arm.

He cursed and Blake grimaced, making his way over to the fallen man. Blake set the torch down in a way that it would give enough light but not blind them both and took a good look at Charlie.

The man's face was smudged with mud, his hair still dripping water. Blake remembered how he had fallen outside. Blake almost didn't notice then and it sent chills down his spine on how close they both came to being swept in by the tornado... or plummeted by the falling debris. Charlie had been hit anyway.

What Blake could see under the mud was pale skin and blue eyes squinting at him, filled with pain. No blood anywhere, though given the state of both of their attires, Blake wouldn't notice much except for a spurting artery.

"Found... a way out, Doc?" Charlie asked through gritted teeth.

"Not yet. First I think we better sort that shoulder."

Charlie blinked.

"Here?"

Blake nodded.

"Yeah. Normally I wouldn't do that without first getting an x-ray, but... I'm not sure how soon we will get out of here. The longer the shoulder stays dislocated, the harder it will be to put back in. And the more damage you are risking."

"Oh... okay," Charlie said, sounding just a bit unsure.

"I'm not gonna lie. It will hurt... but I promise, as soon as it pops back in, the pain will be much more manageable."

Charlie swallowed, but nodded.

"Do what you need to, Doc," he said, his voice sounding scratchy.

Blake hesitated for a moment. Maybe he could get them out... maybe all he needed was just a bit more force and the door would open. But then, they still needed to get to the car and hope that it wasn't destroyed. And if so, it would take at least an hour of a very uncomfortable ride to Ballarat.

No, the kindest thing was to proceed quickly. Coming to a decision, Blake now just needed to figure out the best approach.

"Alright. I think we should do this with you lying down." There was still a chance that the pain from the shoulder was masking some other injury from the fall and Blake didn't want Charlie to move too much until he was sure. Not to mention, if he fainted during the resetting, it would definitely be safer for him.

Blake gently manoeuvred Charlie flat on his back. Then he settled on the ground on the side of Charlie's dislocated shoulder.

"Okay, here's what is going to happen. I will carefully pull at your arm until it pops back into the socket. All I need from you is to lie still and try to relax your muscles as much as possible, alright?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, although the quick rise and fall of his chest showed that he was anything but relaxed.

"Charlie, I mean it. The more relaxed you are, the easier this is. Slow your breathing and try to focus on something else. Anything."

"Easy to say, Doc," Charlie muttered, but at least seemed to work on slowing his breathing. Once he didn't look on the verge of hyperventilating, Blake took hold of his hand and started to slowly guide the arm horizontally away from the body, until it was about forty-five degrees from his side.

He watched as Charlie grimaced, then shut his eyes tight.

"Easy, Charlie. Only a bit more. Try to focus on breathing. In... and out."

Blake repeated the words, happy when he saw Charlie try and follow the rhythm. He gave him a moment, then took a more solid grip of the hand. He started pulling it towards himself firmly and steadily, trying to keep the same angle.

Charlie moaned in pain.

"Just breathe..." Blake encouraged him and put a bit more force into the pull, until he finally felt it move the way he needed.

Charlie cried out, his left arm shooting towards his right shoulder.

"It's alright, it's done. You did great, Charlie," Blake said, giving Charlie's hand a squeeze, then reaching up and checking that the joint was indeed in place.

"That bloody... hurt," Charlie uttered but his breathing was already calming down.

"Yes, I'm sure it did. How about now?" If the pain hadn't lessened, they were in trouble.

"Better. Much better," Charlie said and the relief was clear on his face. Blake smiled.

"That's good. Alright... let's get you sitting up, I still need to check something."

"Thanks, Doc," Charlie said while Blake helped him into a sitting position.

"Ah, I believe I should be the one thanking you actually."

"What for?" Charlie frowned.

"You pushed me out of the way out there. And... I'm not even sure what happened once we made it inside."

Charlie blinked then shook his head.

"You dragged me here, Doc. I think we are even."

Blake gave him a look but then nodded.

"Now... can you touch your left shoulder with your right hand? Like this?" Blake demonstrated the move and after some hesitation, Charlie copied it, albeit grimacing.

"Wonderful! It seems like we did a good job. Nothing else hurting?"

Charlie took a moment to answer, but then shook his head.

"Just bruises I think," he said and Blake decided to trust him. If for nothing else than the fact there was not much else he could do at the moment anyway. And some colour had already started returning to Charlie's cheeks. Either that or the torch was slowly going out.

"Alright. It would be best if we found something for a sling, but until then..." Blake undid one of the buttons on Charlie's shirt and carefully guided the hand through the opening so it now rested against Charlie's chest.

"I know it's not the best solution, but-"

"It's okay, Doc," Charlie said, shivering a bit. "Though I wish we wouldn't be drenched."

"Yeah, me too," Blake agreed, noticing his own shivering. At least there was no wind, and it was turning into autumn, so the temperatures weren't that low outside either. But the cellar was underground and it was kept cool. They weren't moving all that much and now that the threat had subsided, their bodies began reacting to the lack of warmth.

Still, it was more uncomfortable than dangerous at this point. With the shoulder being taken care of and Charlie looking less like he wished for death, Blake's mind had turned back to the problem at hand.

Getting the hell out and going home, making sure that Jean was alright and his house was still standing. It would have been just a bit easier if there was anything that could've been used as a lever or a crowbar to pry open the door. Maybe break off the hinges.

While Blake was busy looking around, shining the light of the torch at every corner, Charlie had slowly made it up to his feet.

"Take it easy, try not to move that arm too much," Blake advised a bit absentmindedly. He wondered if the owners of the house were home when the tornado hit. Blake really hoped not. The fact there was no one hiding in there with them was a good sign at least. If the owners were gone... there was a chance someone will be returning to the house. If not right away... well. Blake hoped they won't have to figure out what to do in such case.

"Do you think-" Charlie was squinting, brushing wet hair and water from his face. "-that we could move the door? Together?"

Blake grimaced. He didn't want to risk Charlie hurting himself anymore, but just looking around the small space made shivers run down his spine. And it wasn't caused by the wet clothes.

"We can try. Just.. be careful."

Charlie nodded, seemingly relieved that he could offer some assistance.

They both walked up to the steel door and took a better look. There were eight stairs leading up to a small platform. There on the wall was a small ladder, not more than a meter high, used to get out. There was a latch on the inside and Blake remembered one being on the outside as well.

"Alright, let's try this," Blake muttered, nodding at Charlie to take up position. Charlie put his left hand up, undoing the latch, then leaned his palm against the steel door. Blake did the same, though he used both hands. Without prompting, they both leaned into the door.

Charlie grunted. The door moved maybe an inch, letting in just a sliver of light, but as soon as they stopped pushing even that inch was gone. They tried two more times before Charlie pushed just a bit more and he let out a curse.

"That's enough," Blake said instantly, reaching out to Charlie.

"I'm fine," Charlie grunted, but he let his left arm fall back down and move to touch his right shoulder before he thought better of it.

"You're not... and this isn't the way," Blake said, and with that realization his heart fell. They were stuck here for the foreseeable future. "Let's take a break... this won't be fixed with brute force."

"Not on our end at least," Charlie agreed tiredly and with a sigh sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the side wall. Blake looked at him for a moment, then copied his motion, settling opposite Charlie.

"Yes, I suppose you are right," Blake admitted, running a hand over his face. He felt a pang of pain as he brushed at his mouth and only just noted the split lip. Grimacing, he touched the split skin with his finger and looked at the blood on the white skin. Something about the sight of the blood was just mesmerizing... especially in the flickering light of a torch in a damp cellar.

Blake blinked, then shook his head.

This wasn't a POW camp.

"Doc? You alright?" Charlie asked and the worry in his tone was like a cold slap in the face.

"Yes, of course," Blake hurriedly assured the younger man. "I'm perfectly fine, Charlie," he said and tried for a smile.

Too bad that Charlie couldn't see it.

The torch had flickered and with a strange buzzing sound gave out.

Blake's smile was drowned out by utter darkness.