Chapter 3:The Night We Met pt 3

A distant yet resounding peal call dove right in through the murky brine of his addled brain and foggy stupor, snapping Randall back abruptly to the waking world. The notes pierced his ears like a knife, causing him to gasp with pain as he attempted to turn his head. There was a tight coiling material wrapped along his flat skull, wrist, and a heaviness prevalent in each of his eight arms. Limbs refusing to cooperate at a time when he really could use their assistance. Leaving him writhing on the ground in some infantile state, like a very confused snake or worm.

"Wh- iz..?" he slurred, incapable of stringing even simple words together. He blinked, attempting to clear the muddled confusion that had befallen him. However, he was met with dark blurred vision. An empty blackness as far as his eyes could see. Which wasn't too far considering he was almost smack against a rough concrete wall. At times he felt like he'd been asleep for days if not weeks. But where was he? Where had he been brought? Why had he been brought here? All these questions were swirling through his mind, but there was no one to answer them.

Randall tried to focus on the surrounding area, but everything was still too blurry to make out. His immediate surroundings felt solid with occasional soft gritty patches. Something that felt reminiscent of the sand and dirt trapped between his scales. The air was humid and moist as if it had rained recently. And it smelled like a kennel, though as far as he could tell there were no other creatures in the immediate vicinity. There was even a faint sound of running water from somewhere off in the distance. Like a dripping faucet or hose. Though it was difficult to say for sure since the sound was muffled. Sighing in frustration, Randall gave himself the opportunity to gather up his senses until he felt capable of reading his situation.

After a few minutes, he felt more confident in his abilities and tried again. This time he was able to focus on the area around him. He was standing on a stone floor, but it felt more like a concrete slab. Strewn about on the floor were scattered bits of dirt and sand. Straining his eyes, he could see that the concrete wall came about halfway up before it turned into chain link fencing held sturdy by metallic piping that extended all the way to the ceiling. In the left-hand corner of his cell was what looked to be a rectangular pool cut into the floor with a rounded slope for ease of access. However, there was no water. All except for the remnants of a shallow puddle at the bottom that was slowly filling thanks to the incessant dripping from the ceiling. On the opposite side was a rudimentarily put-together area for... sunbathing? Complete with a flat board, rocks, and lamp setup. But Randall didn't have time to appreciate the scenery or luxuries of his prison sauna. He had bigger concerns at the moment.

It was apparent to him that he was trapped in a cell. Presumably, the ignorant humans of this world thought he was some type of animal. Something to be kept locked away and put out of its misery or gawked at like some abomination crawled from the wilds. A very dark part of Randall's mind wondered how long it would take before they killed him. Not because he wanted to die, but because they would give him no other choice. But then he wondered why? Memories of the shovel crashing down upon his skull came flooding back, and he gritted his teeth in anger. His body felt weak and sluggish as if he'd been drugged. It was difficult to move. Every limb was heavy and clumsy, and his head throbbed with pain. His eyes burned, and his vision was hazy.

Randall summoned his waning reserve of energy, comparable to a beat-up cruiser sputtering to life on a tank of stale gas, and pulled himself up into a sitting position with a loud and overly exaggerated pained moan. His arms hung limp at his sides, and he found it hard to even hold his head up. The muscles in his neck were weak and sore, and it felt like every bone in his body was screaming at him to stop moving. But he had to fight. That's all he knew how to do was fight. Not lay on the floor and feel sorry for himself.

So he forced his arms to lift themselves as he inched over to the pool. Leaning down, Randall scooped up a handful of the cool puddle water, letting it trickle between his fingers as he drank deeply. It tasted stagnant but the sensation of the cool liquid running down his parched throat was enough to rejuvenate him, if only slightly. Lips curled in disgust, Randall smacked his lips mulling over the bad taste and went to rub his eyes. Doing so caused him to wince in pain as he remembered his injured wrist. His wrist was tender and swollen to the touch but deftly wrapped with a bandage. It was going to be a while before he could use that arm again. Randall leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was still exhausted, but his body was slowly beginning to recover. He couldn't afford to give in to his fatigue. Not yet.

Without warning, a door opposite his location opened and closed with a gentle click and two individual pairs of footsteps followed. Adrenaline dramatically surged throughout his body as he was overcome by panic. The situation hadn't been completely assessed and he had no hope of defending himself in the sorry state he was in.

'Hide! Hide!'

Instincts screamed for him to vanish, go invisible.

'Hide fool!'

Randall tried focusing on the environment in front of him, the pale gray of concrete and the dark dismal colors of his cell. But his scales refused to change color, to camouflage the desperate fool just seconds away from death at the hands of these humans.

'Hide! Why aren't you working! Idiot!'

Anxiety caused his head to suddenly reel as he almost doubled over in pain. The steps gradually got closer, followed by a muffled conversation between two voices. Why weren't his abilities working? Why was this happening now of all times in his pathetically short life? Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists and bit back the pain that flared when he tried using his ability.

The footsteps eventually came to a stop outside of his cell. Of course, they could see him here, thrashing about against the wall and on the floor like some monster inflicted with madness. Probably came to gawk, to probe, to hurt.

Hurt. He'd hurt them. He'd rip and tear and bite and strangle his way free out of here if he had to. He'd show them an animal, a real monster. A beast that would make their lives hell.

In spite of that thought, Randall just sat there holding his head with one hand and peering at the blurry silhouettes through slitted blood-shot green eyes. They looked of average build, possibly female. Not that it mattered. One of them sat down a crate and the other pulled out a stool from somewhere beyond his vision. They exchanged words and glances, none of which he could make out.

What could they want? He'd make an ugly statue and an even more unsavory dish, as distasteful as his personality. He recalled that miserable old crone and her loud-mouthed son asking if they'd eat him too. She'd called him diseased. Maybe he was. Maybe he'd disease any humans who tried eating him. Ruin their fresh stack of bbq Randall ribs. A real bon appétit from the grave. He grit his teeth, smirking miserably at his own grim fate.

One of the silhouettes slowly reached out toward the door. In turn, Randall made the closest noise he could to a snarl and a hiss, curling his teeth back threateningly. The human gasped and recoiled their hand in fright and turned towards the other one, who patted their back and shooed them away with a few words. The human who stayed pulled up the stool and watched the other silhouette retreat until they had left the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

Randall continued to glare at the remaining human, his teeth still bared and his eyes narrowed in distrust. This human seemed unphased by his clear display of aggression and instead moved closer to the cage, sitting down on the stool. Upon closer inspection, the human did indeed turn out to be female in appearance. She wore a blue button-up shirt, and a brown vest, who stared down at him with a pair of overly curious eyes. Her hair was auburn and she had a soft heart-shaped face. Randall felt exceptionally awkward, his snarl faltering into an uncomfortable grimace. He watched as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen and notepad and began jotting things down. Eyes peaking up and down every so often to note whatever it was she felt noteworthy about his miserable condition.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, finally looking up from her notes and offering a smile. "Are you hungry? I brought some food."

'Food?' Randall thought. That was not what he had expected. His eyes flickered with interest as he pursed his lips in disquiet. Truthfully, he had no idea when he had last eaten. He was ravenous and would eat almost anything at this point. But human food? Would it even agree with him? Was this human just toying with him for her own amusement? She found it entertaining enough to write in that little notebook of hers while he sat here miserably. What else would she do?

The human quizzically looked at him as she pulled a small lunchbox from the crate on the floor. Inside she pulled free two sandwiches. Randall's gaze drifted to the sandwiches, his stomach rumbling audibly. It had been a long time since he'd eaten, but he wasn't sure if he could trust her. This was a human, after all. They were unpredictable.

"I've got two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." She muttered something else to herself under her breath, suddenly looking flustered and shaking her head, "Suppose you probably don't know what that is."

Randall felt his head shake in a no response against his own will. This seemed to catch her attention and made her smile again in excitement. Randall on the other hand went rigid while his eyes were still glued to the sandwich. It looked almost identical to the scarewiches he occasionally made for his work lunches. A sudden pang of... something twinged at his heart that momentarily distracted him long enough for the sandwich to suddenly be on his side of the cell. Seems she'd slipped it under the door in his momentary lapse.

Shuffling over awkwardly, he slithered his tail out just enough and hooked it around the sandwich to bring it closer to himself. He tentatively reached out a hand and picked up the sandwich, examining it closely while taking it from the plastic wrapper. As he took a hesitant bite, his eyes widened in surprise at the sweet and salty taste. It was actually quite good. He wolfed down the rest of the sandwich, grateful for the unexpected meal.

Nothing exceptional happened after eating the sandwich. No sickness, death, or explosions. Only now his mouth was extra parched as some of the sweet salty residue of the sandwich stuck to the roof of his mouth. As if sensing his struggle, a bottle containing fresh water was rolled under the door. It rolled up to his scaly side where he picked it up with glee and drank deeply. It wasn't as cool as the puddle water, but tasted so much sweeter. He even poured some water onto his hands to scrub them and his face clean. It was a small invigoration that made him slip up with an all too friendly, "Thanks."

Shit.

He hadn't meant to say that. The human's expression shifted to one of shock before she recovered and beamed, "Oh, I knew it. I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew you could talk."

Randall blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond. How did she know he could speak? How did she know he wasn't an animal?

"You're no animal are you? You're intelligent and can speak. And look nothing like anything I've ever seen. Oh, I have so many questions and-" She cut herself off abruptly as if realizing something before jerking up her arm and pulling down her blue sleeve to reveal a large bandaged area, "And you have a heck of a bite. Almost took my arm off! That really hurt!"

When had he done that? He'd been unconscious for as long as he could remember after the shovel incident. What else had gone wrong between then and now? How much time has passed? How many more humans had he fended off?

As if sensing his distress, the human gave him a reassuring glance, "Hey, it will heal in time. Now, onto more important things, what are you? Who are you? Are you an alien? Do you have something important you're supposed to be doing? How did you get hurt? Would you be willing to-"

Randall gritted his teeth, another headache coming on, "Shut your trap for five seconds."

The human furrowed her eyebrows but remained silent. Randall sighed, "I'm not here for your human niceties. All you need to know is that I'm a monster and you're a human and I don't belong here."

"Monster..?", She parroted, brows furrowing even more.

"You know, monsters. Come out of the closet, from under beds, behind doors, under stairs. Scare kids, make them scream. That kinda deal, you understanding me here or are you just daft?" Randall retorted.

The human's expression turned sour, "I understand perfectly fine! I just don't appreciate being spoken to like that. And no, I'm not daft." She crossed her arms, "And you're telling me that you're a monster that scares children? That sounds.. absolutely ridiculous. But I suppose there you are." She gestured at him, "And being very rude and indignant towards the 'daft' human who helped save your life."

Randall rolled his eyes, "Save my life? More like imprisoned."

She scoffed at Randall, "Me and a very nice older man hauled you onto my RV after he called into us late a couple of days ago. Said you were a 'mutated salamander'. Mutated salamander, my ass! The few on staff weren't sure what to do with you. But they did what they could to patch you up and put you in here for temporary keeping. Whatever hurt you like that did a good job. I'm hoping some rest and daily check-ups help with the recovery. Not that that's really any of my expertise. I'm still new at all this."

Randall's eyes widened in surprise. The situation felt surreal. To be assaulted by humans, only to be saved by them. And to still be alive in their care days later. "How many days has it been?"

"Six days, just shy of a week."

Randall's mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened to him in those six days. He couldn't remember anything beyond the shovel incident. He must have been unconscious or delirious for most of it. He wondered how many times he had woken up to find himself still trapped in.. wherever he was. At least it was better than the alternative.

"Is there any way out of here?" he asked, eyeing the area around the human.

The human shook her head. "Sorry, no can do. We're in the middle of nowhere, and we can't just let you go. It's not safe for you."

Randall sighed in frustration. He was trapped, injured, and at the mercy of humans.

"Look, I know it's not an ideal situation. But you've been taken care of and given enough to get you by for now. We really are doing the best we can given the.. unique circumstances." She paused, looking at him sympathetically, "I'll see if I can work out something for you. No one else knows that you're an actual monster, or that you can talk. Frankly, they don't know what you are. And it fascinates and scares them."

Randall sighed again, realizing just how precarious his situation was. He was a captive, a curiosity, and possibly even a threat. He wondered if they would ever let him go, or if he would be stuck here forever.

"Can I at least know where I am?" he asked, hoping for some small bit of information.

The human nodded, "You're at the Forever Wild Rehabilitation and Education Center. Or Forever Wild for short in good old Louisiana. You're in one of our kennels where we usually temporarily hold gators and the like."

Randall stared, taking in the information.
"When we found you, you were unconscious and bleeding pretty badly. The man who called us in said he found you lying in the middle of the road, and that you had been beaten pretty severely. Said you were a mutated salamander But we quickly realized that you were something... different. It wasn't until you woke up and started speaking incoherently and attacked me in my RV that I realized how different."

Randall frowned, trying to remember what had happened. Everything had been a blur running on sheer instinct and adrenaline until he'd worn himself ragged.
"What are you going to do with me?" he asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be pleasant.

The human hesitated, "I... I don't know yet. We're trying to figure that out. But for now, we're going to keep you here and monitor your condition. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise."

Randall snorted, feeling a mixture of apprehension and relief. He was relatively safe, for the time being. The humans in this facility didn't intend to do him any harm. And he figured that would continue, so long as he played the sick and injured role of a dumb animal and remained vigilant. Allowing him to mull over his thoughts the human continued, "They've been showing me how to check, treat and dress that injury on your head. I'll see if I can switch out with the tech they've got working with you. I can even bring you more food. Can't have you wasting away."

Their eyes met momentarily and Randall stared long and hard before speaking, "I... would appreciate that. Eh.. thanks. I guess."

The human nodded, "No problem. You just rest up now and try to feel better. I'll be back tomorrow night. Same time. Now before I go, mind rolling that garbage back over to me? Can't have them thinking I'm littering your kennel."

Randall shoved the plastic wrap into the bottle and rolled it over to the door where she reached down and worked it underneath the door. Afterward, she took a litter pan from the crate and pushed that under and over to his side.

"Next few days won't be ideal but we'll get you on your feet again. Promise, I'll get you out of there. Just hold on." With that she turned and left, leaving him there going through a flurry of emotions. Disgust, confusion, anger, bitterness, and the slightest hint of hope.

He lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the facility. He could hear other animals in the distance, the occasional bleats and howling. But he also heard something else, something that made him uneasy. It was a low, rumbling noise, like a generator or a large engine. It reminded him of long hours and long days spent perfecting the scream extractor in the belly of Monsters Inc. Strangely enough, in all his misery, that low rumbling sound lulled him to sleep. Reminding him of those long chaotic days at the factory. Of Fungus, Wazowski, Waternoose, and Sullivan..