Hiya everyone. Thank you to all those who read and especially to those who have left supportive reviews. I hope you like the next installment lol. Please review. Oh and again the scene breakers for some silly reason are again not working so if the paragraphs seem to jump scenes I apologise, there is supposed to be a break there but it isn't working. Sorry, I hope it doesn't affect it too much.
Chapter 9: - Daybreak
Dean leant against the cold damp wall wearily, his eyes closed. His arms hung limply above him, his wrists bleeding and sore.
At the other end of the room, Alex sat curled up in the corner, her ankle cut and oozing from the shackle fixed around her leg. She stared into space, her entire body shivering under the light dress. A sombre silence filled the room as the sky began to lighten.
Hearing the clanging of the prison bars behind them and the hollow echo of footsteps reverberating around the desolate walls, the pair jumped out of their silent reveries.
Sheriff Peters and the new Deputy came into sight, followed by the two burly men who had held down Alex and drugged her the night before.
Unlocking the door and yanking it open, its hinges screaming in protest, the group walked towards Dean who pushed himself to his feet, his stiff legs shaking unsteadily. Peters undid the shackle that held his numb aching arms above his head, whilst the two burly men pinned him against the wall, not taking the chance of a lame escape attempt.
"Gerroff me man," said Dean breathlessly, his voice muffled by the two men squashing him against the wall. As Peters undid his wrists, his arms fell limply in front of him, the blood rushing back painfully to his tingling fingers.
Not speaking a word, Peters pulled out a rope and tied Dean's wrists together tightly, making him draw in a short intake of breath, wincing in spite of himself as the coarse material rubbed against his tender bleeding skin. Peters smirked in satisfaction.
As the two men backed away slightly, seizing Dean by the upper arms, he instinctively began to struggle, his eyes widening as he saw the sky breaking red on the horizon, the sun just minutes from appearing.
"Get off me," Dean struggled, as he was forcibly led out of the jail, his eyes coming into contact with the scaffold, cursing profusely under his breath.
The crowd had already gathered in front of the old oak, anticipation rife in the air. Dean was dragged over towards the oak tree seeing rope nailed to the ground.
'What the hell,' Dean thought, before he was kicked behind the knees by one of the officers, his legs buckling as he collapsed to the ground. He was tied to the floor, his arms stretched out at either side of his body.
He gulped, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach, closing his eyes and remembering his mother and Jess. He lay flat on the ground looking up at the clear brightening sky in a crucifix position. Pained tears threatened to escape him. He blinked hard, trying to shrug it off. Somewhere above him, he heard Peters address the crowd.
"This boy is an accomplice to the witch," he said, pointing down at Dean with a sneer. "He will confess and beg forgiveness, or will pay the price! Tom," he said, turning to one of the oversized hunks of meat behind him.
Tom lifted up a slab of heavy rock and placed it squarely on Dean's chest.
"Confess," Peters spat, as he looked down at Dean's determined face.
"Confess what?" Dean smirked, keeping up his outward bravado but inwardly thinking, 'Where the hell are you Sammy!'
Sam broke the back window of a large house which overlooked the sea a mile up the road from the square as the mob departed. Climbing in and falling to the floor in a heap, he looked around him desperately, finding himself in a kitchen. Crawling along the floor, he stopped in front of an old fashioned gas cooker and pulled it away from the wall.
Leaning round it with his tall slender frame, he yanked at the gas pipe, ripping it away from the back of the cooker. The break allowed gas to leak into the room, a thick choking cloud of it rapidly filling the kitchen. Hearing a distant cheer, his stomach filled with dread. He set the central heating timer on the wall for five minutes, giving himself just enough time to get out and up to the square.
Peters nodded at Tom, another heavy slab being placed on top of Dean's chest. Dean simply grinned, infuriating the sheriff who gave the order for another two slabs to be added to the first two. The smile on Dean's face faltered slightly as the pressure on his chest increased and his fight for air became more and more difficult.
A roaring jeer erupted into the air, making Dean turn his head towards the jail. His eyes widened as his gaze fell on Alex, who was being dragged out, her hands tied behind her back with thick rope, a small snippet of pink cherry tree blossom placed in her dark curly hair. The sky above was a deep and fiery red, the sun seconds away from rearing its magnificent head.
Alex was dragged towards him and the imposing platform. Their eyes connected for only a second, horror and terror screaming behind hers as the Deputy and another officer hauled her past him and up to the platform, placing the noose around her neck and tightening it.
Sam raced along a side street towards the town square. He crept along the side of a quaint little brasserie, peering around the side just in time to see Alex being dragged towards a scaffold which stood against an old oak tree in the centre of the square, in a very old fashioned-looking dress.
Scanning the square for Dean, all he could find was a small group of burly men surrounding two piles of large slabs. Watching closely, noticing Alex hesitate as she past them, his eyes widened in horror. He could just make out an arm protruding from under one of the piles of slabs.
Sam glanced down at his watch in desperation hissing, "Come on!"
Alex looked down over the blood-thirsty crowd feeling frightened and vulnerable. The rope holding her hands behind her back bit deeply, rubbing the skin red raw and causing numerous cuts and abrasions.
Biting down on her bottom lip, the rope around her neck pressing uncomfortably against her throat, she looked down at the hungry crowd. A commotion began at the back of the square. Squinting against the harsh light, she saw Jack forcing his way roughly through the crowd, his tired drawn face filled with stubborn determination.
"Stop this!" he shouted, as he fought his way to the front, struggling hard against the army of people. "Stop this now. It's not too late!"
The newly appointed Deputy stepped forwards into the crowd and shoved him back.
"Get off me," he spat. "She didn't do anything!"
The angry mob grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away from the platform, throwing him towards a corner of the square. Others stepped into the fray, beating him savagely with whatever they could lay their hands on.
Alex watched in anguish as the mob beat him until he lay unmoving on the floor in a pool of blood totally unrecognisable. The savagery sickened her to the stomach, their lies, deceit and hatred firing up their bloodthirsty volatile hearts. Looking at Peters desperately, he simply turned his head, letting mob law rule.
Dean groaned on the floor a short distance away from her as the seventh slab was added, his ribs bowing under the ever increasing pressure. Alex looked at his strained sweaty face tearfully, her scared eyes burning with desperate determination as the sun broke the horizon, the fiery light illuminating her on the platform.
Her eyes burned with fury as she watched the man who'd piled on the crushing slabs back away. She watched him in bitter distain as he smirked at what lay before him. Her hatred bit angrily at every inch of her soul as she concentrated on him, his big sweaty muscles, his revolting haggard face and his sneer. She detested every part of him, her distain coursing through her veins like a pounding volcano, her eyes boring into him as he stood there, her attention focused and unmoving.
The man twitched slightly, the sneer faltering as his arms clenched and relaxed at his sides, perspiration pouring down his red face. He glanced at his hands, a perplexed and confused look replacing the smirk.
Alex looked Dean in the eye, a weak smile briefly gracing her lips. 'Hold on,' she thought, as she turned her concentration on Tom. He responded by shifting forwards slightly and pushing the top two slabs off Dean's chest, causing a shift in attention. The sudden burst of violence subsided, the town turning its attention to look at Tom in frozen wonder as he pushed the other slabs off and began to undo one of the ropes that restrained Dean's right wrist as Dean coughed, gulping down the cool air in relief.
The sheriff recovering first, looked from Tom to Alex, a shrewd expression etched across his face.
"She's bewitched him," came the roar from the crowd as hysteria began to take hold. The sheriff leapt up the steps onto the platform a wild look in his eyes as he pushed her off the edge.
The force of the fall yanked the noose chokingly around her neck, her concentration faltering. Her feet flailed out wildly trying to find the ground, the weight of her body slowly strangling her. She gagged weakly against the rope, fighting in vain for air as the world began to spin and distort, her eyes rolling from lack of oxygen. The crowd below cheered emphatically.
From behind them, a massive explosion rocked the square, drowning out the cheers. The mob spun round, cries filling the air as one of the oldest houses in the town burnt to the ground. People began to run towards it as Sam, who stayed hidden behind the Brasserie, muttered, "About bloody time!"
Dean, taking his chance, hurriedly undid the rope holding his other arm and the ropes holding his legs, looking up anxiously at Alex whose struggles were becoming weaker and more and more infrequent, her body slowly shutting down as the rope tightened its strangle hold.
Sam jumped out from his hiding place, weaving through the frantic crowd, running towards Dean who knocked out an officer who was trying to restrain him.
In the mayhem, the sheriff looked back as he raced across the square with the crowd. His eyes widened as he skidded to a halt, some of the crowd crashing into him as he started back on himself. "They're getting away!" he yelled. The confused and angry mob turned back, charging straight at them.
"DEAN!" said Sam, grabbing an axe from his bag and chucking it at Dean's feet. He then threw a grenade at the Brasserie causing it to explode and slow down the advancing crowd.
"Get the car," Dean ordered, as he picked up the axe, his other hand clutching his tender, badly bruised ribs. He pushed his way through the confusion, leaping up the steps to the platform and taking a swing with the axe at the rope wrapped around the tree.
The rope snapped, whipping round the tree as it unravelled, sending Alex plunging to the ground, her knees buckling beneath her, the noose still chokingly tight. Struggling to breathe, her hands tied behind her back, Alex's eyes rolled in her head as she lay semi-conscious on the floor, her lips turning blue, her face drained.
Dean dropped the axe with a clunk and leapt off the stage, crouching beside her. Lifting her head up off the ground and holding her against him, he loosened the noose, tugging it off her head as she coughed and took a wheezy breath.
"Come on," he muttered, picking her up in his arms as the Impala screeched to a halt behind the old oak. He made for the car at a run as the mob, having picked their way through the remains of the brasserie, chased after them.
Sam leant across the passenger seat and pushed the door open. Dean jumped in gratefully with Alex still in his arms, her head lolling against him weakly, muttering "Bob" as oxygen rushed through her veins to her brain, the spinning sensation beginning to recede.
Sam floored the accelerator as Dean slammed the door shut, the Impala's tires screaming against the tarmac as they rounded the corner, heading for the beachside café.
Skidding to a halt outside the back door of the café, hidden from the sight of the main road, Sam leapt out of the car.
"You gonna be okay here," Dean muttered, as Alex climbed off his lap and sat down on the back seat, rubbing her neck gingerly. She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching with a smile as Dean got out, closing the door behind him. "We won't be long."
Alex watched the pair pull open the back door and disappear from sight. She sat curled up on the back seat, her mind reeling with everything that had happened. Her throat throbbed, the rope having ripped away the smooth delicate skin, leaving it badly bruised and bleeding.
Glancing down, her hand running over the smooth upholstery, she noticed an old battered journal lying near her feet. Picking it up gently, she opened it, a crumpled piece of paper sliding out of it. Opening the journal to the page it had fallen out from and unfolding the paper she stared down at the ancestral tree of the town and a note scribbled on the bottom of it. Tilting her head slightly, her eyes widened as she read the 'Death List.' Scanning the list of names, all were dead bar one, herself. Glancing back at the journal entry, she skimmed through it and, looking overleaf, found a picture of herself and her mother, taken on her seventh birthday.
Looking back at the crumpled paper and turning it over, she glanced over the additional scribbled notes, reading, Alex – descendant of Elizabeth Green. Curse – her birth – same day as execution.
Looking into the wing mirror, she stared at her pale reflection, a tear twinkling in the sunlight. I'm the only one left, she thought.
Picking the journal up off her lap and placing it back on the seat; she pushed the back door open and stumbled out. Looking back at the café door, she turned away, walking towards the cliff.