The Dream
Chapter 18: Drops of Blood
Vaughn stood frozen to the ground, listening. He heard it all.
"You look tired, my sweet. I'll help you get to sleep."
That bastard. His footsteps echoed across the room. Sydney didn't say a word. She didn't scream; she had given up fighting. Vaughn waited for something to happen, anything.
Then he heard it. The smallest of sounds, but he knew that it came from Sydney. A whimper. Her small cry for help. Dammit! Why couldn't he be there for her?
Vaughn started to relax. Maybe Fahim had given up as well. Maybe he had had enough of this fight and was going to let Sydney go. Maybe he wasn't such a bastard. Maybe the earth was flat and pigs really could fly.
Just as Vaughn started to breathe again, just as he started to let his optimistic fantasies start to calm him down, he heard the noise that shattered his eardrums and split his heart into a million tiny pieces.
Something, something glass broke with a sickening crash. There was a small cry, Sydney's small cry, and then the thud something, a body, falling to the floor.
He didn't waste another second. Without any further thoughts, Vaughn grabbed the communications device and ran across the room. It took him a few seconds to realize that he didn't hear anymore sounds coming from the speakers. There was none of that bastard's repulsive laughter, none of Sydney's tears or even her breathing, nothing, nothing at all…
That could mean so many things. It could mean that Fahim had left her alone…It could mean that Fahim had left her to die…It could mean that Fahim had…Shit. It could also mean that he had yanked out the cord when he had pulled the speakers across the room. God dammit!
Frustrated, on the verge of tears, Vaughn angrily threw the speakers down and stormed out of the hotel room, ignoring the strange looks of passersby.
He ran, faster than he had ever run before, and didn't slow down until he had almost reached Fahim's gate. Then the questions poured into his mind like water flooding the storm drains after a heavy rain. Was Sydney all right? How would he find her? How would he get past SD-6? How would he get past Fahim?
But he didn't want to have to admit to himself that he didn't have the answers to most of those questions, so he continued walking slowly to the gate. Sydney had told him once that she worked better under pressure, maybe he would too.
Vaughn raised his fist and banged on the black twisted metal. He turned to his left and saw the SD-6 van waiting a few yards away. It was getting dark; they wouldn't be able to see him very well, and even if they did, they shouldn't know who he was.
A shadowy figure approached the gate and stood menacingly on the other side. Vaughn couldn't really see the man's face, but he could clearly make out the silhouette of the large rifle that he had slung over his shoulder.
The guard waited for a moment and when Vaughn didn't say anything, he demanded impatiently, "What do you want?"
Vaughn stood up as straight and tall as he could. He was about this man's size. If this guard didn't have that huge rifle, if SD-6 was not a few footsteps away, if this man didn't have an entire legion of guards at his beck and call, then they would probably be pretty evenly matched.
The guard spat at Vaughn's feet and Vaughn gave him an evil stare. One that he probably couldn't see in the near dark.
"I need to speak to your boss." he finally responded.
"Are you here for the conference?" the man asked.
Vaughn thought for a moment. He knew the coded response; he
could say it… "No, but this is an important matter that I believe your boss
would be very interested in discussing with me."
"Really?" There was that smirk again. Vaughn was really beginning to hate this guy.
He was almost shaking with impatience and anger, but managed to nod somewhat civilly. "And I don't think it would be good for you or your boss' business if you turned me away." He nodded toward the SD-6 van and leaned closer to the guard, whispering, "I could always take my business elsewhere."
He saw the guard's eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he reached out and opened the gate.
"Follow me."
Vaughn waited, almost patiently, until the guard had led him across the front lawn, up the stairs, and into the hall before making his move. The guard had carelessly left his rifle hanging at his shoulder, so that when Vaughn kicked him in the head, the gun left his grip.
Vaughn grabbed it, held the end of the rifle at he guard's chest and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed across the room, and the guard's lifeless body fell before him. There was silence; and only then did Vaughn think that shooting the guard might not have been a good idea.
But what was done was done. Vaughn stood still for a moment, listening for any sounds, but hearing none. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and tiptoed carefully down the hall.
He tried to remember how many steps Sydney had taken down that very same hall, how long it had taken her to get to Fahim's door, so that he would know which room to go into. But he couldn't remember. He couldn't think about Sydney without hearing her whimper and cry out in pain. He needed to stay focused.
Vaughn opened a door and peered inside. No one was in the room. Nothing was out of place. He softly shut the door and moved on to the next and the next, continuing slowly and quietly down the hallway, praying that no one would see or hear him.
A window at the far end of the hall threw a little light across the floor. He had almost finished going through all the rooms, when something in front of one of the doors caught his eye. The last rays of sunlight were sparkling in a small puddle on the floor.
He slowly approached the door, wanting but not wanting to know what the liquid was.
Water; please let it be water.
But it wasn't water. Water wasn't dark. Water wasn't red.
He opened the door to the room and was blinded by the light that reflected back at him from the thousands of tiny shards of glass and the pools of blood that littered the floor.
Vaughn's mind reeled back to the sounds he had heard over the speakers. The scenes played out in his mind. There was the chair she had sat in; there, lying across the room, was the sword. He sank down, squatting on his heels, his head in his hands. There was where that monster had struck her and smacked her, and there, there was where she had fallen.
He closed his eyes and could see Sydney lying on the ground, helpless. The blood trickled down her face, her arms, her legs, washing over her entire body, marring her beautiful, perfect skin.
He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and kick and yell like he had when he was three years old. He wanted to be able to swoop down and scoop Sydney up, to help her, to save her, to love her.
She had been here. The pictures of what must have happened played over and over in his head like a nightmarish horror film.
If he had gone to her when he had first heard that she was in trouble, could he have saved her from this? Could he have prevented this misery, this harm? He had been listening. He had been the only one that knew what was happening, that could have helped her. But he hadn't. He had waited; he had thought that she could have taken care of herself. He had thought that she could handle it.
He was her handler; he was supposed to help her handle things. He was supposed to protect her. More than that, though, he was madly in love with her and would have moved mountains to keep her from harm. But he hadn't. He had waited.
The blood. The misery. The pain. He could have prevented it, all of it, but he hadn't. It was his fault.
He glanced around the room again. Dammit. All the blood; smearing the carpet, streaking the walls. She had been here, but she wasn't here anymore. And now he had to find her. Find her before…before…
He quickly got up and ran out the door, leaving the glass and the blood and the sickening pictures behind him. He panicked when he started walking further down the hall and suddenly realized that he had no idea where he could find her.
That was when he saw more drops of blood further down the hall, leading to the stairs; and the small red stains that marred the soft carpet on the way up.
He almost rejoiced that he would now be able to find her. But then he realized that he was following a trail of her blood, like a sick and twisted version of Hansel and Gretel. His eyes glowed with a mixture of fury and sorrow.
He ran the back of his hand quickly and angrily over his eyes, brushing away the hot tears that clouded his vision. She could still be okay. He had to find her. He had to stay strong.
He followed the drops of blood up the stairs and down another hall. Not a soul was in sight. The trail of blood stopped outside a door at the end of the hallway.
Vaughn stood, staring at those few drops of blood. Opening that door could be a huge relief or the biggest disappointment he had ever had to face. He knew that behind that door he would find the woman he loved, but whether she would still be in one piece, whether she would still be alive…
He took a slow deep breath and reached out to open the door, when suddenly, the handle turned, and the door opened.
Vaughn took a step back and looked away, not ready to face what he would find inside.
A/N: Sorry, I know that not much happened, but I needed to stop there otherwise this chapter would be way too long (and I don't really know what's going to happen next). Graduation's soon, so hopefully chapters will come quicker. The story's getting closer to the end, but I'm still open to any suggestions on how to make it better. Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed; I hope you're still enjoying this. Please, everybody, review. It helps me write when I know that people are actually reading. It only takes a few seconds and can really put a smile on somebody's face. ;-) Thanks.