Pitch Black – chpt 5
by: sifi.
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He rolled, his weight steamrollering over his tortured left arm yanked an unsuspecting scream from him as the tips of the wire strips brushed over him, their snags and snarls missing another opportunity to cling while the screaming porcelain-faced harpy 'coptered the thing over her head, whatever fury drove her he could not tell, though he thought it might have been his sheer audacity to survive, Course, she could just be a psychotic bitch!
Oooh here we go! Up! Up, push Up! he forced himself to his feet, both legs screaming, one around a four inch long steel spike through one of its largest groups of muscles, the other, a mass of crushed meat bleeding and broken beneath the skin, and one foot pocked with nail holes through its back half and outer side thanks to a simple moment of exhausted carelessness.
With his back at the wall, his good arm up defensively, she raised the arm that held her evil device, her face twisting, contorted, her mouth dropped open as if in disbelief as her toy flew from her hand to clatter at the corner of the cell.
"No! NO! You CAN'T DO THIS!" she screeched still advancing on the decimated man leaning against the wall, barely alive, and yet somehow standing on his own two feet, almost free.
"NO! PLEASE!?" she begged trying to continue toward him but somehow bound from further approach.
Dean wasn't sure what he was seeing, whether it was real, hallucination or if there was something else to come. Sam? Zat you? he wondered recalling an incident just over a year ago when Sam had managed to, in spite of his own tortured and drugged state at the time, disarm the he-bitch cult leader that had tried to stick an athame into Dean's heart. Don't call out, you haven't said anything yet... just... look... stairs... screw the bitch, wha'ever's wrong with her, she deserves it!... oh look! Stairs! I should go now. He lurched to the right where escape remained accessible to him. A shiver ran up his spine with a shriek straight out of a monster movie trying to wrap around him. Her scream tried to call on something chivalrous, Sorry bitch... talk to Sancho, Don Quixote's got a hot date with a bath and a bed...mmm bubbles... lots of bubbles... for the first time in what felt like forever the corner of his mouth turned up at the prospect of soaking in a steaming tub surrounded by mountains of pristine white bubbles. That shriek reached out to claw his spine again and he turned to find his porcelain bisque, ruby lipped bitch pressed with her back flat up against the wall, brackets flew and found themselves pinning her by the wrists, the ankles, and the neck.
"It's NOT MY Fault! He shouldn't have been able to... No! Please Don't! I'll do anything! I swear! HELP ME!" she pleaded with Dean's back.
The clatter of wood on stone caught his attention as her device of torment and terror rose from the corner where some unseen force had cast it, those nine strips of wire 'coptering toward her in the scant light. Dean couldn't be sure, but at the rate those things were spinning he was fairly certain she was gonna be in a world of hurt pretty soon.
Not too fast now Dean... could be a trap...he reminded himself, using his right arm to help pull himself up the stairs and out of his private hell.
"You can't leave me here!" she screamed once again before her voice rose in pitch and something splattered through the cell below. Hmm bet that's what a side of beef would sound like in a wood chipper, somehow though to his surprise, she continued to scream. Heh... looks like you blew it baby... wonder if she'll make it?
He scanned the world outside the oubliette, to the left it ended in a brick wall. To the right it held four doors two on either side, and a staircase at its end. There were no guards, no demons, no monsters, and no people that he could see. Careful now Dean, just be careful, they could be IN those cells just waiting to pounce... I'm gonna go for it. No matter what, I don't have a choice... I gotta go... I'm getting the hell out of here. You sure? he asked himself, Pretty sure... with the last musterable smirk born of what he was well aware could be his last tantalizing breath of freedom, he looked back on his tormentor, now forced to face her own limits and said, "Bet me."
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Gotta look... Why? s'not like I can do anything for anyone... he hobbled to the first cell on the right, the ball of his left foot dragging the dirt floor, his left arm clutched to his chest while the fingers of his right hand grasped the wall, gripping the edges of bricks for stability, dragging himself along until they could curl into a crevasse on the door before him. Bloodshot green eyes, their color darkened by fever peered into the window of the door, searching for something, for the owner of one of the other voices he'd counted on to keep his tormentor occupied while he sought his escape. Hmmm not this one... he realized as the door swung inward, pulling him off balance though fortunately he was able to grasp the wall beside him quickly and stabilize. OOoh lucky... he thought feeling heavy warmth move through the places where fear tingled, at the idea of falling flat on his face down here, that coulda been bad...Just go! Just get out! I can't! I gotta see... I gotta know for sure... he shambled across an impossibly huge six foot wide corridor to the next door, the numbness and sense of victory that had carried him out of his cell fading quickly, leaving in their wake a man clinging to the last vestiges of will.
Twice more he forced himself to peer curiously into empty cells, wondering in a state near delirium if he had indeed heard any voices at all. At the base of the next flight of stairs his right arm held the railing as he came forward dropping to his knees onto the third step where he sat for a moment, unable to move.
His body seized at the speed of cooling metal as he realized those screams that had kept him counting time must've come from another place, somewhere close enough, Maybe there's another hell across from mine...s'gotta be it. Holding the railing as tightly as he could he glanced back down the miles of agony he'd traveled just to come this far and shook his head, without question, there was no going back. I'll come back for ya Sammy, wherever you are I'll tear this place apart and save you, but I can't do it alone... need help... please just hold on little brother, I'll find you, he promised and felt his legs begin to move again, pushing him up the stairs one by one, given assistance by the one functioning hand and arm he still had. He looked down at his deep purple left arm, saw spots where the skin was glossy from stretching, the smell of infection oozing out of the holes hit him as he reached the halfway point up the stairs, Gotta learn to cock a shotgun with only one arm... this one's a goner, I'm sorry arm, I'm sorry I couldn't save you... you been good to me and I screwed up! Just like I always do, got Sammy killed y'know? Got him shanked in the back just by calling out his name, got my baby boy killed man... least I can do is lose an arm over it...
At the top of the stairs his head came round timidly, his eyes trying to see everything at once, every sense as keen as he could coerce it to be. His skin crawled while sweat and blood dripped onto the stone steps beneath him, his entire path marked by a trail of shimmering red. He could still hear the screams and whimpers of the bitch below who'd been transplanted into his hell, somehow he knew, in his stead. Even safely swaddled within delirium some part of him knew she was paying a price for his life, and he wondered if the others had succumbed to her sickness already, or if they too had been let go. Was he the last? Did they already go? Did they leave me behind? Was I too weak? he wondered suddenly certain that was why he was so blatantly alone in this moment.
The room around him was no larger than a storage shed though made of the same stone all the way into the earth. There was nowhere to hide up here, and no one stood inside the door that spoke to him, ushering him toward open evening air. Probably just waiting on the other side of the door... gonna come an axe, chop! OFF with his head! "Prfffft!" he snickered and pressed his hand to his mouth with wide frightened eyes, oh crap! they'da heard that... where'd everybody go? S'Sammy still down there? S'anybody still here 'er'd they all go home? Leave me b'hind? I should just... yeah, this is a nice place right here... I could lay down... take a nap, dream 'bout m' bubblebath... mmm so nice and warm... and no orange lipstick this time...he looked down at the redness wept by his body, water'd be pink though... pink bubbles... pink is pretty... he stumbled forward in the open. A dozen 12 inch miles before him as he lurched and shambled, Hey look! I'm Igor! Yeeeeeth Maaaathter... he stopped and almost giggled again then took a breath while another voice inside, this one more mature scowled deeply at him, Dean Winchester quit screwing around and get your ass out of here now! Sam would never leave you! You KNOW he's down there somewhere! a vision of the long man in dark shorts, with long brown wavy hair, so very like his little brothers, and the voice, that howling alto laden with fear and pain! 'Look Sam... here, look... one... one fish. Look... see? one, two, two fish...See? Sammy?' "FISHY! Fish!" the year and a half old Sam of his memories squealed jumping from his lap and tearing into the bedroom where their father slept, snoring loud enough to peel the wallpaper. Tears pressed against the insides of his eyes, I'm sorry Sammy... I know you'd never leave me... not like I'm doing to you... but I'll be back! I swear little brother... stone by stone if I have to...
When he reached the first tree, his feet snaring on one another, leaving him breathless despite the mousey moan that stumbled out of his swollen sandpaper throat, heaving against its rough bark, its time worn skin slowly releasing the day's heat Dean wrapped his arm around the trunk, pressed his face to its hide and shuddered a handful of gasping, grateful breaths for this moment of freedom, whatever else may come. He had this moment. "Hmmm fishy..." his lips curled faintly while his body breathed.
C'mon Dean... please, just a little further, distance dude, just a little more okay? Just... let go of the tree okay? C'mon now... just a little bit. MMm'kay... reluctantly he gathered himself, his knees threatening to buckle, his thighs quaking, his legs coltish. Against his body his left arm trembled while his right reached out to feel the world in front of him, tell him what his eyes could not see in the blackness all around.
A 'whuff' of air passed his face and the sound of his shambling took longer to come back to him, it's kind of an open spot... he realized putting his left foot down further than he should have, it was just that his right leg was on fire it was so damned tired! Dried needles from the plentiful pines in the area carpeted the forest floor, his weight cracked them and taking himself by surprise, he barked a scream before gritting his teeth as many of them found their way into the holes made by the board of nails. For the next to last time he stumbled, managing to turn just enough to land safely on his right side. Oh God that woulda hurt... that woulda been bad... help me... please... someone... breath snagged out of his throat in the same way the undergrowth snagged the raw, jaggedly torn flesh of his naked torso and arms, well the one he could still coerce into pulling him along the needle carpeted, decaying forest floor. The other, continued to spasm, to flop and twitch as if possessed, each motion a throb so deep he could barely remember to breathe when it struck. Blood continued to mark his passage as he dragged himself along through the dark. Surrounded by blackness that felt as empty and alone as his heart he wondered if he could have walked, then knew he couldn't. He was already doing everything he could.
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Rotted wood splintered beneath the weight of the youngest Winchester nearly sending him crashing to the debris laden forest floor. Damnit! he cursed inside shining the beam of his flashlight up into the night sky. Just a hint, c'mon you bastards just a glimpse... ah HA! there we go... alright... he smiled tightly catching that elusive glimpse of rolling-smoky gray-within-gray velvet against the pitch black skies above, Gotcha! he pitched forward, so very close to being able to feel his big brothers' presence.
He'd been on his way to the Sheriff's station after torturous hours of searching, interviewing, tracing, and basically spinning his wheels with only a few smashed cell phone parts and a brass pendant to show for it. He was a whole hairs breadth from saying, 'to hell with it', and risking their tenuous freedom for his brothers' life if need be. The impala's lights cut through the rural darkness and if he'd so much as blinked he would have missed it. A black mottled figure crossed the car's beams absorbing the light briefly during is passage. Sam was sure his feet were going to push the brake pedal through the floor as the car fishtailed to a halt on the side of the road. He shut her down, grabbed a flashlight, his .9mm, and a shotgun and found himself tearing through the surrounding forest swinging that penetrating beam around, searching for that light eating texture, every fiber of his being certain it would lead him to his brother.
Please don't let me be too late, please! with his heart trip-hammering in his chest, his breath stuttering through a throat that kept threatening to close each time a new wave of tears were swallowed down he pushed forward, Please Dean, he prayed unable to shake the images from his visions. He wasn't sure exactly what happened but he knew it was horrible, he knew it was verging on being the end of his brother. He could still feel the horns poking into the palm of his hand from when he'd clutched the figure head reflexively, his brothers' amulet, his tie to the history of his own spirit, the mark of his place in the universe, and in some way it had spoken to him. He felt the fire streak over his chest and stomach as if the claws of some great beast had raked across him, leaving his skin hot and throbbing in its wake, while in the reaches of his mind a voice he'd know deaf screamed itself to a whimper. An agony he'd never wanted to hear again shuddered through him with the memory of pains past, Dean please, don't let go, don't you give up! Please! I NEED you! When they came this time, he didn't swallow them, but let them fall while he plunged forward, heedless of all but his need for the one forever-constant in his life.
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The words echoed inside a mind no longer capable of consciousness, He'll die! ... ... ... DO you HEAR ME?! He'll DIE! YOUR BROTHER! YOUR BABY! The CHILD YOU RAISED WILL DIE! ... ... ... more wet warmth prodded that tear before tiny needle like teeth bit and held the flap of broken tissue, his last coherent thought shredded the last tissue of hope, Oh God Sam! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! then the owner of those sharp little teeth began to tug.
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He wanted to call out, GOD how he wanted to call out, but he'd been trained too well. Instead he crouched below the line of bushes, the beam from his flashlight extinguished until he could identify the scuttling sounds in front of him. There was nothing akin to a human voice to be heard, but one of the sounds he knew far too well most certainly didn't belong out and about at this time of night. What the hell!? he wondered, noting a cluster motion on the wooded floor, Oh no! Dear God in heaven no! he prayed bounding to his feet, opening the beam wide and shining it on what anyone who lived in the rational world would consider an impossibility.
A flurry of nocturnal scavengers sped back into the shadows with the intrusion of his light into their dominion, but the more brazen remained in the hopes of one more mouthful. Oh God no... breath sucked out of him as he raced forward, tossing his messenger bag at the fat bodied raccoon that hunkered at his fallen brother's side gnawing on his flesh. A handful of large black ravens flew off then descended once more onto the ballsy feeding omnivores, some opossum, some raccoons, all tugging for their fair share of the fallen human, willing to suffer the beaks and talons of the birds for fresh meat.
"Dean!" Sam called swinging his jacket off and using it to swat or scoop the scavengers away, leaving the body with malevolent glares cast at this bipedal intruder while the ravens took up stance in a loose circle, hopping and bobbing on the ground, screaming at anything that would dare try to advance.
"Dean?... Oh God..." Sam's throat squeezed shut, his breath stopped and he fought every urge to throw himself backwards, away from this impossibility, This is NOT my brother... this... no! NO! Oh God... finally a gasp stabbed the night as he reached out, uncertain where to touch him that wouldn't cause him pain.
"Dean?" his voice quivered his eyes only able to see blood and torn flesh. His fingers slid around his brothers' neck, finding the divot where his pulse should have been. "No... C'mon Dean... please... come ON Dean! Don't you DO THIS to me!" he ground pressing his fingers harder, deeper into the firm puffy flesh. Oh Thank GOD! he breathed tasting the salt of his tears, Please tell me that's his pulse, please! he set the flashlight down on the ground looking for a place to grab hold of that wasn't coated with blood or filth. Unable to find such a place he grasped Dean's right shoulder and hip, rolling the older man toward himself while scooting back to make room. What he saw as Dean's body came to rest against his legs stopped his heart then thrust a dagger through it, How... how can he survive this? He wrapped his arm under the blackening appendage and raised his big brother up, shifting his own position so he was directly behind Dean, his own body holding him off the ground while he hastily and with clumsy fingers undid his belt, sliding it from the loops of his jeans only to tie it snugly at the elder hunters' armpit in the hopes of stopping the further spread of decay. Finally he was forced to breathe again, pulling his big brother up against his chest he wrapped his arms around him, letting the tears come as he rocked him back and forth, his head at rest for a guilt ridden moment, at the crook of his brother's neck and shoulder. "I'm sorry Dean... I'm so sorry I should have found you sooner! I should have... I don't know... SOMEthing! I shoulda got the police, I shoulda done someTHING! Please man, please just don't die on me alright? We've come so far Dean, PLEASE! Don't you die on me! I'm gonna get you out of here I swear! I'm gonna save you... I swear..." I couldn't protect you but so help me God I'm going to save you Dean... He gave himself a scant few more seconds to feel his brother against him, a lifetime of memories exploding at once as he did, then forced himself to his feet, arranging their positions for a fireman's carry before sweeping him up onto his shoulders with ease.
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tbc.
Please R&R
Thanks. sifi.