The Long Way Home
By
E. S. Young
Chapter Thirteen: Crazy Dream
Ooo, 'tis unlucky chapter number thirteeeeeeen . . . (wiggles fingers spookily) Oooo . . . it's the same as Friday the Thirteenth and Edgar Allan Poe's dorm room number . . . oooooo . . . . and I can guarantee you that in this chapter there will be some rather unlucky events in store for our trio of escape-ees. (cackles) I'm so evil, well, kinda. I'm just keeping things as real as I can , which is saying something if you consider the movie I'm writing a FanFic about. 9.9; Seriously, how did Marquez live if he was shot in the heart? And why didn't Sands have his badge taken away from him long before he came to Mexico?
Sands: (matter-of-factly) Magic. u.u
Sidney: -.6 Uh huh. I'll bet. Unless, of course, you're a witch and you've managed to hide it all this time.
Sands: Maybe – wait Don't you mean 'warlock?' I thought that's what guy witches were called.
Sidney: Nooo, see warlocks are – ah, forget it. I'll tell you after I get this thing written.
Sands: Oh no you don't, get back he –
Sidney: (waving him off) Go bother Lyn or something. Go on, shoo!
Sands: .6
- - -
"We're here," Lynné announced quietly as the SUV slowed to a halt.
"Oh goody," Sands said sardonically, adjusting his sunglasses as an extra precaution.
Sands, determined not to accept help from anyone, pushed open the backdoor of the car, though he used his left arm to do so. He would not be pitied just because some fucking drug lord had robbed him of one of the things he had relied on the most. However, he didn't turn his sister down when she offered him her hand as he began to ease his way out of the vehicle.
"Wow," Liam gaped as he stepped out of the car and began staring up at the impressive hotel. "Nice place."
"Where are we staying?" Sands wanted to know after hearing Liam's approval of the hotel.
"Umm, ed Hotel de Rosa Roja," he answered. The Red Rose Hotel.
"Which to those of us who don't speak Spanish . . ." Lyn trailed off, expecting an answer.
"The Red Rose Hotel," Liam told her.
"Lyn," Sands sighed with disappointment, "WHY are we staying at another one of your ritzy joints?"
"Since the majority of us prefer to stay at places where the doors actually lock," Lynné informed him shortly.
Sands held up his hands, saying, "Fine. Because it seems that you care more about hygiene than remaining inconspicuous –"
"This coming from the man who, in public, wears a shirt that says CIA," Lynné said with a raised eyebrow.
"I assure that no one gave me a second thought whenever I wore that shirt," Sands informed her.
"Uh, how 'bout we check in?" suggested Liam.
So they did, surprisingly without any arguments between the two siblings. Sands knew Lynné standing right beside him by how loud her voice was. Going against his own rule, which was to decline any kind of assistance, Sands carefully wound his uninjured arm around his living crutch, Lynné.
"Must've lost more blood than we thought," he told her. "I think I'm starting to get used to this."
Though his words were cool, Lynné couldn't help but notice how her brother's arm shook slightly as he slipped it around her, or the small beads of perspiration on his forehead.
'Gonna hafta put him to bed again once we get our room,' she thought mildly.
Yeah, the voice agreed from a distance, and after that, d'you think it would KILL you to get something to eat? Christ, you're trying to starve yourself, aren't you?
'No,' Lynné responded matter-of-factly, 'I've just . . . had too much on my mind.'
Oh, up yours.
Lynné smirked inwardly at the voice's response.
- - -
"Did I mention that I really hate elevators?" Liam asked as he and his fellow agents entered their hotel suite.
"Yes," Lynné sighed in exasperation, as she led Sands to a nearby couch. "We all do."
"Oh," he said, looking somewhat stunned for a moment, then, "Did I mention that I REALLY hate planes?"
"YES," said both Lyn and Sands, their irritated tones identical. Liam backed away; he had no idea sunglasses could glare so well, and Lynn's were rose colored.
"Oh, well, um," he sputtered, "just . . . trying to . . . make conversation."
"Liam," began Lynné as she took a step towards him. Reaching up, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look. "We all hate planes . . . . trust me."
"I know, I know," he assured her. "It's just, y –"
"You saw 'Final Destination,' didn't you?" She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him, studying him as if trying (and succeeding) to read his mind.
Sands could almost see Liam hanging his head like an ashamed little child. He knew that the other agent wouldn't be able to meet Lyn's eyes, not if she was giving him THAT stare.
"Yes . . ." Liam answered ruefully.
Lynné shook her head at him, albeit, Sands was almost certain he had detected a hint of amusement in her voice when she spoke again.
"Liam, Liam, Liam," she sighed. "You see, this is your problem: You watch these movies that scare the hell out of you and you wonder why you're so skittish.
"Now, how 'bout you go to one of the local dives and see if you can't find us something decent to eat? How's that sound?"
Lynné could have sworn that her inner voice's cheering was so loud and so triumphant that it could have been heard throughout the room, but there was no reaction from the two men. Sands stayed in his chair (he seemed to be contemplating something) and Liam brightened at getting let off so well and nodded.
"Okay," he said, "um, yeah. Any requests or . . ?"
"Tequila with lime," Sands called from the couch.
"Ignore him," Lynné said will a roll of her eyes. "He'll get no alcohol for quite a while."
Now Sands looked like a child as he crossed his arms over his chest and demanded:
"Why not?"
"And here I was starting to think you were smart." She shook her head in disgust. "Do I really need to answer that?"
"Spoil sport," Sands muttered.
"Just try and get something that isn't Mexican," Lyn explained to Liam. "This is a tourist-y place, so I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a Chinese joint or an Italian place somewhere."
"Okay," Liam said nodding and still looking a little nervous as if unsure whether or not she was going to bite his head off. "I'll see what I can find, ma'am –"
Lynné pointed a finger at him in warning.
"Lynné," Liam amended at once, his eyes widening uneasily, but he relaxed once again when he saw his partner smile in satisfaction. She motioned to the door with a little wave of her hand. Liam didn't need telling twice. He left the hotel room, a little surprised to find that his head was still in its proper place.
Exhaling heavily and shaking her head, Lynné turned to her brother.
"You would think that after spending three years with me . . . he would've learned not to call me 'ma'am.'" She shook her head again. "Oh well. C'est la vie."
"You couldn't be more right," Sands said, shifting on the couch and tilting his head back. "Still wish you've let him get me a tequila, though."
"If you want something to drink, I brought water, but drinking something alcoholic in your state?" She tsked. "I thought you knew better than that."
Sands flipped her off. Lynné would have returned the gesture if her brother had been able to see it. Instead, she opened her suitcase, pulled out a book, and took a seat on the couch next to her brother. Rubbing his arms for warmth, Sands glanced around several times before he realized that it would do no good to try and look for something to occupy his mind with since he wouldn't be able to see anything. Sighing in annoyance, he turned to Lyn.
"You're a real conversationalist, ya know that?"
"Mmm."
"I mean, it's just talk, talk, talk with you. I dunno what to do to get you to shut up."
"Mmm."
"Whoa, slow down, girl. You're talking a mile a minute."
"Yuh huh."
Letting his vexation show, Sands tried another maneuver.
"What're you reading, anyway?"
"A book."
Sands stared in her direction for a beat before saying:
"Yes, I realized that. And you knew exactly what I meant, too –"
"Wrong direction, honey," his sister's voice called from another area of the room. Sands sat back in surprise. He hadn't even heard her get up, she was just that quiet.
'But she was always been like that,' he had to remind himself before he started getting paranoid about letting his guard down.
Yeah, she gets if from you, the crazy bitch.
The sound of the news suddenly filled the room, and Sands heard Lynné say in triumph:
"Ha, so they DO get the American news in Mexico. Some damn señor told me they didn't . . . or at least, I think he did," she said in puzzlement.
Sands felt her sit back down on the couch and heard her pick up her book again, saying something about the news keeping him 'entertained' until Liam returned.
". . . . and now we have the governor of Colorado with us in relation to yesterday's attempt to overthrow the President of Mexico. Sir?"
Lynné slowly put down her book, her long fingers unconsciously running over its title: 'The Da Vinci Code.' She stared, as if transfixed, at the television while Sands could only listen.
"Three years ago . . . the CIA stationed my only daughter, one of their agents, in Mexico," the man on the TV choked. "Her job was to bring down Armando Barillo and his cartel before another dictator was put in charge. But then she . . . she disappeared, they think the cartel may have caught up with her."
He took in a breath to steady himself and then continued.
"The CIA never found her," he said shortly. "But instead sent my eldest and only remaining child, my son, in her place." The governor inhaled and his dark brown eyes looked straight into the camera, building up the dramatic tension that lingered in the air around him. "Now he has gone missing as well. The CIA sent four agents to go out and look for him, but, unfortunately . . . they have yet to turn up. If anyone . . . anyone at all knows anything about the disappearance of my son and daughter or their fellow agents . . . " He trailed off, swallowing hard. ". . . please, do not hesitate to tell us. Anything, even the smallest bit of information, will be helpful . . ."
"Thank you, Governor Sands," said the news announcer. "A number where you can contact someone about the disappearance of the governor's children should be appearing on the screen. Rest assured that your name and number will be kept confidential if you should call the number."
That was all Sands heard. Lynné must have gotten up to turn off the TV because the room was abruptly filled with silence. Sure enough, he felt her sit down beside him and pick up her book once again. However, she didn't seem nearly as interested in it as she had been earlier.
"That bastard . . ." she muttered furiously, more to herself than Sands. "Fucking son of a bitch . . . the bitch I'm named after."
Sands nodded but not a lot. Any sort of head movement made the empty gaps that should have held his eyes throb with pain.
"Yeah, y'know . . . Grandma Bea never really liked Mom, that's why she's always treated you –"
"— like shit," Lynné took over, laughing coldly. "Yeah, but she was always able to act like little Miss Mary Sunshine whenever anyone was around." She gave another short laugh. "Must run in the family. Dad's rather convincing to the hopelessly stupid."
"Yeah," Sands agreed thoughtfully. "And to think there are idiots who'll buy that."
Lyn's head bobbed up and down slightly. "Mm, that's what's sad. I just can't believe that prick had the nerve to go on TV and act like he's a decent parent – oh, wait. What am I saying, yes I can."
"This is OUR father we're talking about, Lynnie," Sands reminded her.
He felt his sister's movements as she pummeled the arm of the couch angrily.
'Damn, she's pissed. When's the last time she did something like THAT?'
Especially out in the open, the inner voice said in awe. Well, didn't YOU hear how that jackass sounded? Christ, he should get a fucking Oscar for that performance.
"I'll bet he's got everyone fooled," he heard Lyn say. "That fucker could fool a lie detector for Christ's sake. . ."
"Guess we learned from the best, then," Sands mused, shaking his head.
There was a pause where, Sands assumed, Lynné was going over all of the new information they had gained. He decided to give her a moment to breathe. She was pissed, after all, and had always despised their father with every ounce of he being. His sister had been a second try. Their father wasn't satisfied with his son because the kid was 'weird.' So their parents had tried again, and this time their father was hoping that his wife would give him a decent son. But they had gotten Lynné instead and, after their mother had died in the accident, their father had taken to either ignoring his daughter or, when he had to actually speak to her, he threw snide remarks her way. Often, he would make comments about how both of his children had turned out to be underachievers.
Yeah, we were one big, happy family, all right. God, no wonder you moved away.
"I want you to tell me," Lyn asked out of nowhere, her voice quiet and steady, "what happened with. . . ." He pictured a blurred image of her making a small gesture to his eyes – where his eyes once were. ". . . .and I want you to be honest with me."
Sands was silent for a moment, not because he didn't know what she meant. He knew exactly what she wanted to know, but, for some reason, he didn't want to tell her. Whether it was because he didn't want to revisit that terrible moment in his life or because he didn't want to have to see her look of horror once he told her the truth.
Why, though? It's not like you're gonna see what she looks like, anyway.
'But I'll still have to hear it. That would be worse.'
Dumbass, the voice scolded. She's gonna know whether you're lying either way. Just tell her and get it over with.
Sands would have closed his eyes in exhaustion if they were still with him. He didn't want to tell Lyn anything, it would be too close to reliving the whole event that had changed his life, and he already did that whenever he dreamed. But to tell it out loud . . . that would be admitting it. Admitting that he had made a mistake, admitting that he had let his guard down and that he was punished because of it. Well, Barillo's punishment was one that would certainly leave an impression. That's what would make it final. If he told Lyn about the Day of the Dead . . . he would be admitting that he was helpless, weak, and that he was blind and would never be the same again.
"Sands."
Lynn's voice seemed very far away. Had she been talking to him the entire time . . ? He couldn't be sure. But he felt her hand on his shoulder and knew that she was staring up at him sincerely. That's when he knew. Lyn wouldn't care if he was now blind, she was simply curious, just like she had always been. But he needed to be sure.
"What brought this on?"
Lynné shrugged.
"Well," she drawled casually, "you only told me that Ajedrez had sold you out to Barillo, her father, and that the cartel had taken you in only to later throw you back out like this." He imagined her making another gesture to go with her words.
"I'm just curious to know," she explained softly.
"Yeah, I know you are," Sands sighed tiredly, tipping his head back against the couch. "Y'know those little drills the dentists use that you hate so much?"
Slowly, Lynné closed her eyes.
"There ya have it," Sands said simply.
All was quiet. If he listened carefully, he could hear his sister's breathing, but other than that, there was nothing.
"Were you awake when they did it?" she suddenly wanted to know.
A pause. Then, Sands nodded once and Lynné went back to her book.
"What did they do when they got a hold of you?"
Lyn's eyes, which had been trailing across the pages of her book, froze. Slowly, she raised her head.
'Fuck.'
"You've had three years to give me the details, Lyn, yet you haven't said a word," Sands said with deliberate patients. "Why?"
She turned her head to face him, gazing into his dark glasses, as if searching for the eyes that were no longer there. It seemed like an eternity before she finally answered him.
"You never asked."
- - -
"When you called me, you said you weren't brining anyone with you." Lynn's tone was cool, but the woman herself was miffed. She was leaning over the little island that doubled as a bar in the kitchen, her naturally perfect eyebrows arched in suspicion.
"Didn't I?" Sands asked, feigning surprise. "Well, I apologize, Lyn. Must've been thinking with my dick again."
"Ya don't say," she said calmly. "So, who is she?" She inclined her head towards the young woman who had her brother's arm around her hips. She was of obvious Mexican decent and very pretty with long auburn hair that was slightly curled and honey colored eyes that, to Lyn, had the words 'conniving bitch' engraved in them. Then again, most women's eyes held that look.
"Ajedrez," Sands and his female companion answered promptly.
"Last name come with that or is she one of those 'artists' like Madonna who doesn't come with one?"
"She's an AFN agent, Lynnie," Sands told her, sparing Ajedrez from making up a false name (not that she didn't have one made up already). "Don't think there's anything to get suspicious over."
"You never know," Lyn said with a shrug.
He should have listened to her; taken notice of the icy look his sister gave Ajedrez as she surveyed the woman. Lyn had an instant distrust of people, whether they be friends or strangers. Hell, Sands didn't even think she trusted him entirely, not to say that she had his full trust either. He didn't think he had ever fully, truly trusted someone. He had put a little reliance in Ajedrez, though.
And there was your mistake right there, fuckmook. You shouldn't have trusted her at all.
'It IS kinda hard not to trust the person you're fucking, y'know?'
No I DON'T know, idiot, I'm just a fucking VOICE in your HEAD, remember? Jesus H. Christ, if you get any stupider . . . .
". . . so, I'm off to meet Belini," he heard himself telling Lyn and Ajedrez.
"To get me my information," Ajedrez finished for him, smiling slightly.
"Which you were supposed to get for me." Lyn jumped right into their conversation with ease.
"Though I think you'd have a better chance at getting it yourself," retorted Sands, eyeing his sister's shapely form pointedly. Lyn rolled her eyes at him.
"You do have a way of winning over most men – and some women – without the use of a gun, if you know what I mean."
"And me?" Ajedrez demanded, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her 'lover.'
Sands turned away from his sister to reply. His answer was simple and cool:
"What about you?"
Lazily, Ajedrez pulled a small pistol with a silencer out the purse she was carrying and pointed it at Sands' throat. She waited for Sands' look of panic and Lyn's scream that Ajedrez was crazy and beg her to put the weapon down, but it never came. Sands expression never wavered and his sister's eyes fell back to the book she had been reading.
"Of course you can win men over, sugar-butt," he said finally, his voice calm, showing that, despite the fact that she was holding him at gun point, HE was still in control. "After all, you got me, didn't you?"
"You're letting your dick think for you again," Lyn said in a sing-song voice, cutting in before Ajedrez could answer.
"Right, right," he said, slipping his arm around Ajedrez's waist and smirking as the woman withdrew her gun. "I'll have to remember that or else I might find myself in a whole MESS of trouble."
Christ, why did Lyn's words always come back to taunt him? She always dropped warnings, hidden in casual phrases, and he usually heeded them, except for one time. One time when he had let someone get too close and later he had learned of the consequences that came with that and paid for his mistakes dearly. But, hey, all's fair in love and war, right? Yeah. Right.
Of all the things to come back and bite him in the ass, his sister's advice had to be the worst.
- - -
"When did he . . ."
"Few minutes before you came back."
"And . . . DID he pass out or did he just fall asleep?"
"No, no, I think he went out."
Everything had been taken over by an itching, burning heat now. It seemed to have wound itself around his limbs and body, making it impossible to move. Not that he could have if he had wanted to. The pain was back, as he knew it would be; the painkillers Lynné always had in her medical kit never lasted long, though they worked far better than Tylenol or Advil. It hurt to move. Everything ached no matter what he did. It was like his entire body had been beaten badly only a thousand times worse.
Oh, give it up, ya whiner. Life is full of pain, get used to it.
'Easy for you to say, you don't have to feel any of this.'
Oh yeah, the voice laughed lightly.
When had the sudden temperature been upped a few notches? The last thing Sands remembered was being somewhat cold, but not freezing, and asking Lyn to tell him what the cartel had done to her.
'You never asked.'
Her words echoed in his head, relieving him from Ajedrez's taunts for a little while; a nice change. But it didn't stop the temperature from blazing ever higher. The heat seemed to increase with every intake of breath. Flames had to be swarming his body by now, whether he could see them or not. The hundreds of torches around him cause sweat, soaking his hair and making it stick to his face and neck.
He was suffocating. That was it, plain and simple. The sudden blanket of fire had covered him entirely, smothering him. Sands tried to speak, but something caught in his throat; the flames were choking him. Deliriously, he tried to call for help from anyone. The growing blaze taking over . . . he could practically feel the flames flickering all around him . . . . . there had to be some sort of relief from this . . . anything . . .
And suddenly, there was. Something cool was being run through his damp hair, sending, he imagined, gusts of steam off of him as it did. But the question was, what was it . . .
"Shh, shh . . ." Sands heard someone say soothingly. "Calm down, it'll be all right. . . . . Your fever's back, but it will pass."
Lyn. She'd be the only one with enough balls to come near him at a time like this, and she was a woman. It was her hands he was feeling, Sands now realized. Somehow, her frigid hands had plunged through the ever-rising heat and had managed to subdue the impossibly high temperature that had threatened to take over his body.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were a different woman," he heard Liam remark in awe. The man was obviously stunned at Lyn's sudden uncharacteristic behavior. "I . . . in all honesty . . . I didn't know you could be like this."
She turned to give him one of her half-smiles.
"Good thing I don't plan on making this a habit, 'else we'd all be screwed."
Without either of them noticing, Sands allowed himself to smirk at his sister's comment, despite the throbbing pain that it caused his head to experience afterwards.
- - -
Aaaaaand things just keep looking up, don't they? To think that the next chapter is the one that contains the plane ride back to the 'States. Once again, I wanted to have that in THIS chapter but really liked ending it where it was. I actually wanted to end it earlier than this but decided that a few things could be added. :-) Sands is still confused, by the way.
Sands: So you're saying that warlocks aren't guy witches but evil, traitorous witches who have gone against the, ah, 'witch's way?'
Sidney: (nodding) Yes. u.u Although, you're pretty evil, so maybe you ARE right to call yourself a warlock.
Sands: (raising an eyebrow) Yesss, but you're evil, too, but in a different way. Maybe YOU'RE the warlock.
Sidney: (shakes her head) Nooo . . . I can't be a warlock because I'm a girl.
Sands: (holds up a hand, silencing her) -.- . . . . . . . . . . wait . . . cuz you just . . . no, forget it. (starts to light up a cigarette) Fucking teenagers . . .
Sidney: Outside, mister. .9 (points to the door)
Sands: (glares but heads for the door) Fucking hippies . . .
Oh, and one more thing before I forget (as I usually tend to do .o) the title of this chapter is yet anther song title, this one written by the Los Lonely Boys. Ehhhh . . . I THINK their song that's being pushed on the radio at the moment it 'Heaven,' if I'm not mistaken. It's an okay song, but since it's 'THE Song to Listen to at the Moment' people will play it constantly until you can't stand it anymore. Hence why I don't care for much of today's music and why I like a lot of the other songs on my Los Lonely Boys CD more than 'Heaven.' Okay, now that I've ranted, I'll post the lyrics just so you guys can hopefully see why I thought they fit this chapter.
I tried to find myself,
For a very long time.
Somewhere I lost myself,
Its so hard to find my way back home.
My body's roaming all day long.
Feels like a real bad dream;
I try so hard to break free.
And even though I try,
Something else has got a hold on me.
Will I ever be in control of me . . . ?
When will I wake up,
Escape from this crazy dream?
Maybe tomorrow,
I'll find a better dream for me.
The shiver in my soul . . .
Whoa, I think I'm gonna go.
But in the depth of my mind,
There's a place that only I have seen.
Will it ever be reality . . . ?
So When will I wake up,
Escape from this crazy dream?
Maybe tomorrow,
I'll find a better dream for me.
And no matter how hard I try,
Well I just can't seem to open up my eyes . . .
So when will I wake up,
Escape from this crazy dream?
Maybe tomorrow,
I'll find a better dream for me.
.