Author's Note: If anyone has ever seen the music videos for "Nightmare" by Avenged Sevenfold, or "Monster" by Skillet, you can kinda see what I was going for in Milligan's nightmare, and in this next chapter. Just without M. Shadows and John Cooper in gauze. Frick.
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Milligan sat up in his bed, heart pounding, face slick with sweat. He frantically ripped the IV out of his arm, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt. He realized he was in a hospital gown, but found himself wearing his street clothes underneath. He ripped the gown off, and stumbled towards the door. He crashed through, weaving his way through concerned doctors and nurses.
"Sir! Stop!" A voice cried out. Milligan didn't care. He needed to see that his wife was all right. He skidded down the hallway, somehow knowing exactly where he was going; room 108. He panted, and wheezed, clutching his ribcage with his good hand. He stopped at the blue door on his left. The plaque on the wall read 108: DO NOT DISTURB. Milligan paid no attention as he slammed himself against the door. It shuddered inward, but didn't budge.
"Sir, you're going to hurt yourself." He spun, crashing into the frightened nurse behind him. He immediately got up, and apologized to the woman. She waved him off, and looked him over. 'What's the matter? Lost a button?"
"Please," He spluttered. "My wife's in danger. I need to see her." The nurse gave him a quizzical look. You're Mr. Wetherall? Then who's the man in there with her now?" Milligan froze. "Wh-what?" He managed.
"You know, the tall, broad fellow in the suit. Carrying a briefcase? Looks like he could pick up a cement mixer? He said he was Mr. Wetherall, and he brought their daughter to see her." Milligan's heart stopped. He knew exactly who was being described. McCracken, a man whom he had only heard of in warnings and tales of despair from other agents. "You know what was odd, though? He had two watches. I wonder if he works overseas..." Milligan didn't stay to hear the nurse ramble. He pounded on the door, sending electrifying jolts of pain up his arm.
"HEY!" He screamed, his voice hoarse. "MARY? KATE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
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McCracken stood over the young woman, menace in his eyes, and a toddler in his arms. He smiled warmly, and addressed her.
"Mary, is it? How old is Katie here? Eighteen months, eh?" He glanced at Kate, who was paralyzed by the presence this giant of a man, and grinned. "Big Girl, huh chickie? Well, it's too bad you won't remember who your parents were after today." He turned to Mary, who burst into tears.
"Please, just let me call a doctor, they can bring him in here. Just don't take her." McCracken growled. Was this entire family impossible? He was about to reply, when he heard a heavy weight slam against the door.
"MARY? KATE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" McCracken snarled, and flicked on his radio.
"Crawlings? What did I say about the agent? Deal with him, then return to Mr. C. I'll deal with the wife. Over." He pocketed the device, and set Kate on the bed. Mary immediately scooped her up, shielding her from the deadly man in front of her.
"Well Mary, it was nice knowing you. You got lucky this time." He chuckled at the scream that echoed from the corridor, and the grunts indicating a fist fight. "But next time, your daughter goes to." With that, the hallway went silent, and the door opened. Crawlings stood in the doorway, bleeding, but victorious. McCracken pulled a syringe out of his briefcase, and slowly injected a poison into the syringe bag.
"Have a good night, Mary." With that they left, dragging her husbands limp body away, and Mary Wetherall fell into the unforgiving hands of Death.
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The next days were torture for Milligan. He was imprisoned in a compound off of what he predicted was Sycamore Avenue, a long, central road located in the center of Stonetown. He knew this because the distinct sounds of Stonetown Mall, which was located on E. Oak Blvd, which was a few blocks down. Every day the bald man with one eyebrow would come in, and taunt him about how easily his wife caved in, and how his daughter would be all alone in a few months. Milligan would mumble a snarky reply, and so provoked a new sequence of attacks, both on his weary mind, and his tired body.
But today was different. There was a sense of presentiment in the air, and Milligan could smell the bald man's cologne before he reached the door.
"Well, old pal, it looks like we're going to have to break you today." he strolled calmly to the chair on the opposite side of Milligan's cell. "You see, we're going to have to move our base of operation tomorrow, and it's bad real estate to leave a dead body in the building." He giggled, which was quite unsettling considering the size and stature of the man. He wriggled his eyebrow, and leaned in close to Milligan.
"So what's it gonna be Daddy? Tell me your secrets, or join Little Miss Mary in the afterlife?" Milligan strained against his binds, and snarled, "Don't you dare mention her!" The bald man laughed, a cruel, deep sound. "Playing the hero, eh? Well, than we'll just have to-" Before he could finish, Milligan ripped his hands free of the rope that held him in place, and charged, head lowered towards the surprised man. His breath escaped in a whoosh of air, and Milligan lowered himself to the floor, breathing heavily as he attempted to find some sort of exit other than the front door.
Yes. He traced his finger around the outline of the trapdoor, and lowered himself into the darkness.
A/N Crawlings and McCracken aren't supposed to sound Canadian. I just thought it sounded scarier if they said eh instead of huh:) P.S reviews make me happy inside.