Disclaimer: See Ch 1.
Spoilers: Season 1, Between "Camera" and "Meow."
Reviews: Please! Thanks to all who've taken the trouble.
__________
Logan had done enough running in his life to understand about walls. In high school, long distance running had been his thing, and he knew how to push through the exhaustion until it was gone from his mind. He did the same now, willing his body to comply; controlling his breathing, concentrating on gaining ground one stride at a time or, in his case, one revolution at a time. His arms no longer burned or ached, they simply pushed him toward his goal.
At least the dense evergreens along the trail afforded some protection from the raging wind, though the rain still managed to come down in sheets blinding him. He had tried removing his glasses but it didn't help, the force of the rain making him squint in order to see anything on the path ahead. He wore the spectacles now and kept his eyes on the ground directly before him. The boardwalk had ended a few meters back and he needed all the help he could get to navigate the path beneath his wheels. Carefully he maneuvered around exposed tree roots and storm debris, while trying to keep his speed steady and his arms pushing in a regular motion.
He swore as his progress came to an abrupt halt, the path ahead blocked by a large tree limb. One end had partially crashed through the low wooden fence separating the trail from the ravine below while the other rested on the wooded hillside to his right. In its present position the chair wouldn't fit under it, if he could lift it slightly maybe he could shift it enough to make it fall completely to the ground. After that, well he could crawl over it and pull the chair after him if that's what it took.
He wheeled toward the fence, the branch at that end being at a height affording him the most leverage from his seated position. Applying the chair's brakes, he leaned forward to grab hold of the limb. Before his hands even made contact, its weight shifted as the fence finally gave way to forces too strong for it to resist.
Logan had had the earth pulled out from under him enough times to know he was in trouble. His hands shot to the wheels as he tried to pull back but mass and gravity combined to rob him of the seconds he needed. As the branch launched down the steep hillside it clipped the footrest of the chair toppling it toward the valley.
He barely felt the first impact with the ground before his body was crashing down the side of the ravine. The final impact he felt in every bone of his body as his left shoulder and side made contact with the trunk of a large pine. Then he was falling again, gaining momentum, with the increasing slope of the hillside. Frantically he grabbed for anything to slow him down, but by now the ground was mud and what sparse vegetation there was on the steep incline was slick with moisture.
Below him, the stream had crashed out of its narrow bed, sweeping away everything in its path. He could hear it pounding through the narrow valley bottom, over the sound of the wind and rain. His right hand suddenly made contact with a tree root and he was holding on, his body no longer falling, but pressed into the shifting soil of the hillside. The noises echoed around him in the background, like a storm rampaging beyond the windows of his penthouse.
Looking up he could see his hand. Drops of rain ran between the white knuckles, as his fingers tightened their grip. He was trying to bring his other arm up to increase his hold but that was taking forever. Meanwhile the drops continued their journey over the back of his hand, running into each other, meandering down toward his wrist.
Even the pain was far away, somehow separate from himself. His other hand was attempting to grasp the root now, blocking his view of the tiny river trickling toward the cuff of his coat. It didn't really matter, he was loosing interest in it anyway. His eyes closed for a moment, the blink seeming like an eternity. He just needed to rest. He could have, but a familiar voice was yelling at him, ordering him to hold on. He gasped as the pain hit him, used it to tighten his hold, but his weariness was threatening to overwhelm him.
Logan heard her calling to him somewhere in the distance. Why didn't she just come in, like she usually did. Maybe he'd locked the door, he couldn't remember. Since when would a locked door deter Max from getting what she wanted? He'd just stay where he was and wait until she sauntered around the corner of his office. If he could just stay awake until then, … he was sure there was something important he had to tell her.
Spoilers: Season 1, Between "Camera" and "Meow."
Reviews: Please! Thanks to all who've taken the trouble.
__________
Logan had done enough running in his life to understand about walls. In high school, long distance running had been his thing, and he knew how to push through the exhaustion until it was gone from his mind. He did the same now, willing his body to comply; controlling his breathing, concentrating on gaining ground one stride at a time or, in his case, one revolution at a time. His arms no longer burned or ached, they simply pushed him toward his goal.
At least the dense evergreens along the trail afforded some protection from the raging wind, though the rain still managed to come down in sheets blinding him. He had tried removing his glasses but it didn't help, the force of the rain making him squint in order to see anything on the path ahead. He wore the spectacles now and kept his eyes on the ground directly before him. The boardwalk had ended a few meters back and he needed all the help he could get to navigate the path beneath his wheels. Carefully he maneuvered around exposed tree roots and storm debris, while trying to keep his speed steady and his arms pushing in a regular motion.
He swore as his progress came to an abrupt halt, the path ahead blocked by a large tree limb. One end had partially crashed through the low wooden fence separating the trail from the ravine below while the other rested on the wooded hillside to his right. In its present position the chair wouldn't fit under it, if he could lift it slightly maybe he could shift it enough to make it fall completely to the ground. After that, well he could crawl over it and pull the chair after him if that's what it took.
He wheeled toward the fence, the branch at that end being at a height affording him the most leverage from his seated position. Applying the chair's brakes, he leaned forward to grab hold of the limb. Before his hands even made contact, its weight shifted as the fence finally gave way to forces too strong for it to resist.
Logan had had the earth pulled out from under him enough times to know he was in trouble. His hands shot to the wheels as he tried to pull back but mass and gravity combined to rob him of the seconds he needed. As the branch launched down the steep hillside it clipped the footrest of the chair toppling it toward the valley.
He barely felt the first impact with the ground before his body was crashing down the side of the ravine. The final impact he felt in every bone of his body as his left shoulder and side made contact with the trunk of a large pine. Then he was falling again, gaining momentum, with the increasing slope of the hillside. Frantically he grabbed for anything to slow him down, but by now the ground was mud and what sparse vegetation there was on the steep incline was slick with moisture.
Below him, the stream had crashed out of its narrow bed, sweeping away everything in its path. He could hear it pounding through the narrow valley bottom, over the sound of the wind and rain. His right hand suddenly made contact with a tree root and he was holding on, his body no longer falling, but pressed into the shifting soil of the hillside. The noises echoed around him in the background, like a storm rampaging beyond the windows of his penthouse.
Looking up he could see his hand. Drops of rain ran between the white knuckles, as his fingers tightened their grip. He was trying to bring his other arm up to increase his hold but that was taking forever. Meanwhile the drops continued their journey over the back of his hand, running into each other, meandering down toward his wrist.
Even the pain was far away, somehow separate from himself. His other hand was attempting to grasp the root now, blocking his view of the tiny river trickling toward the cuff of his coat. It didn't really matter, he was loosing interest in it anyway. His eyes closed for a moment, the blink seeming like an eternity. He just needed to rest. He could have, but a familiar voice was yelling at him, ordering him to hold on. He gasped as the pain hit him, used it to tighten his hold, but his weariness was threatening to overwhelm him.
Logan heard her calling to him somewhere in the distance. Why didn't she just come in, like she usually did. Maybe he'd locked the door, he couldn't remember. Since when would a locked door deter Max from getting what she wanted? He'd just stay where he was and wait until she sauntered around the corner of his office. If he could just stay awake until then, … he was sure there was something important he had to tell her.