Chapter Five: Finding Trouble
A/N: Ah... Time to sit and start writing. Well... Time to sit and start writing fanfiction. I've been working on a short horror story that I've got running around through my hollow skull. It's been driving me mad all day b/c things are getting clearer and clearer about it. I love that point in writing! I was trying to clean the bathroom and the characters just kept speaking (wow that sounds nuts, doesn't it! That's not what I mean!!) and their lines just kept running through my head until I sat down to write. Then I got a review and thought, "oh yeah.... Fanfiction... hehe... oops" So here I am. Yay! Oh, if anyone would like to read what I've got on that story and tell me what I can do better on it, please let me know :)
Sands froze. He'd never wanted to hear that name again. In his mind, somehow that man was worse than Barillo. Barillo might have hired Guevera, but Guevera was the one that had delightfully ripped his eyes from their rightful place.
"Sands?"
That was El's voice, but he couldn't respond. He felt the air leave his lungs and a sense of panic fill him like he hadn't been filled with since he came stumbling out of that building.
"Sands?"
Respond, idiot. Make some sort of intelligent response.
He felt El's hand clasp his shoulder and he reeled back involuntarily, his body retracting from any sort of touch. What if the past year had been a dream and he was still with that insane doctor? What if these people that he at least half way trusted – never would admit that out loud, but if the voices in your head were the only recipients of the information then it was okay, right? – were just a figment of an over active imagination and a want to be out.
"Sands! Snap out of it!" El growled as he watched the shaking gunman. This wasn't like him.
"Don't. Touch. Me," Sands growled each word out. "Just don't..."
El caught him as he pitched forward, exhaustion etched into his face. His glasses slipped down his nose a bit and the mariachi had to look away for a moment. He sighed and then eased the other man back into a comfortable position. "You back?"
"Yes."
"What was that?" Ramirez, almost forgotten in the chaos, asked.
Sands brought a shaky hand to his face and pushed the glasses up his nose and ran his hand through his shoulder length hair. "Nothing. You saw nothing."
"Oh I saw something," Ramirez said as he came closer. "If Guevera comes after you and you have a mental breakdown you're not going to last long."
"Shut up," Sands growled. He was shaking now, badly. He felt like he were burning alive and freezing to death all at the same time. The fever was back. He fell against the pillows and turned to bury his face in them. "Just go away."
"It's my house, Sands."
"Just get the hell out!" Sands yelled as he through the nearest thing near him – which happened to be his pillow – and smacked Ramirez upside the head with it.
El watched this play out and he watched as the former CIA agent fell back against the bed once more, wincing and groaning. The American curled up into a ball on the bed, the sheets twisting around him as sweat began to bead on his face. The mariachi sighed as he looked at him once more before turning his eyes back to Ramirez. "We'll wait for them to make the first move. Then that will give him time to heal."
Ramirez motioned for the mariachi to follow and they stepped out of the room and closed the door. He kept his voice low. "He hasn't healed in a year."
"I meant physically," El responded slowly. "That's all we can hope for at the moment. Mentally... Sands never struck me as a stable person."
Ramirez chuckled at this. "Why do you think they sent him here?"
"Is that why they haven't come for him?"
The other man nodded. "I'd guess so."
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Over the next several days the two men forced pills down the delirious American's throat and forced him to lie as still as they could get him. His fever would drop off and then skyrocket the next day, leaving his body with the shakes for hours on end, exhausting all the strength he had.
"If they attack now, he's a dead man," Ramirez said.
The sudden yell from Sands' direction sent both men stumbling into the room. The former agent was sitting up with a bewildered expression across his face.
"Sands?" El called carefully. The American was mumbling something to himself as he approached.
"...set 'em up and watch them fall... What?" He growled out the last part.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh peachy keen, El," he said sarcastically. "I've got a hole in me and Guevera probably can't wait to get his hands on me again and see what ELSE he can take from me." He sighed and put his hand to his face. "Are we still waiting for their first move?"
"Until your ready."
"I'm ready."
El chuckled. "Sure."
Sands glared, but the glare turned into a sly grin. "We can start planning."
"We?"
"'Course, El, you're going to come with me, remember?"
El smiled a bit. Good.
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Sands was taking it slow, or so he'd told El and Ramirez. And he was... really. He'd managed to get out of the house early to scout out the area. The last thing he wanted was to get turned around and not know where anything was.
The sound of footsteps made him uncomfortable. He pulled his cell phone out and called the number at Ramirez's place. "Jorge?"
"Where'd you end up? We've been looking for you all morning."
"I think... I'm in trouble." Sands heard the steps quicken and he whirled around, reaching for his gun, but something solid connected with his head and there was no more.
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Raphe1: I like Ramirez, therefore he just had to come in. Anyway, he had to make it up to Sands for that horrible comment he left him with. Who says "See ya later" to a blind man?! Yeah, this one might be longer than most. Most of my stories are either six or eight chapters long, but I don't know about this one. I'll let it make up its own mind
Charm65: Quite a few people have, actually. Lol. I think I loose people's interest if I don't update daily. I don't know what will happen when I got off for five or six days on vacation! ::sobs:: hopefully everyone'll read when I get back!
LaVieSansAmour: Oh? Is your story updated? Yeah, poor Sands, and poor everyone around him. He's going to have a nervous breakdown by the end of it! Oh wait... that'd be an interesting idea ::jots down notes:: You know, I was actually thinking about not updating today b/c I was busy on my other story, but I decided to go ahead since you were asking for a quick on lol :) ::scurries off to see if you updated::
E.S.Young: Haha! S'okay, I get confused easily. Thanks for clearing it up :) Yes! Sands angst!! ::giggles sadistically::
A/N: There's a spider that's living on my computer desk. I've tried to kill him all day. Now, you must understand, I'm very frightened of spiders. (not Ichabod Crane kind of frightened, I save that for the massive ones of which we have few of where I live). Still, I'm not one to like them. ::shudders:: And it jumps too....