Challenge #4, October 2009, Part 3
Title: Things that Go Bump in the Night
Author: Celadon
What: Magic Where: Graveyard
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Horror
Rating: PG-13
Characters:Don, Colby
Minor appearances by: Robin, Alan, David, Nikki, Charlie, Amita
Summary: Sometimes the safest thing to do on Halloween is stay home and pass out candy. Happy Halloween.
A/N: Well, I ended up posting at the OTHER end of the day this time. I had been posting in the wee small hours, but last night I got home too late and I just got to sit down now. So here we go.
Part 3
There was a jackhammer between his shoulder blades, digging into his spine, pounding non stop. He wanted to tell it to cut it out, but his lungs didn’t seem to be working. He opened his mouth anyway and suddenly he was vomiting mud, rivulets streaming from his nostrils, jaw aching with the strain of cleansing itself.
“Sir - sir, you have to stop - agent, stop hitting him. That can’t be - we’re here, now, sir - we’ll take over.”
Yeah, agent, stop - wait a minute - AGENT? Colby?
“Sir - Agent - “
“Get in there and stop him!” A side whisper.
“He’s got a gun - “ An under-breath hiss.
There was an audible breath of disgust, then, “SIR! AGENT! Release him please and step aside so we can help him!”
The jackhammer paused.
Ouch. Thanks.
“He’s not - he’s not - is he - dead?“
WAS that Colby? He sounded so…
“In my professional experience, sir, a corpse does not vomit like that, so he’s alive, but in urgent need of medical attention - here, let me take him - “
There were other hands at his shoulders now, supporting his head, turning him on his side. He seemed to be helpless to assist in any way, all his energy focused on expelling the muck clotting his throat and lungs.
“He’s alive?”
Colby sounded so - breathless. Almost as bad as him. He needed to say something reassuring, let him know he was okay. But his lungs wouldn’t cooperate, tightening and spasming over and over. The hands at his head were blotting at his face now, forcing something up his nose. He jerked automatically, a frisson of panic at this new obstruction to his airway, jerked again as the blotting reached his swollen cheek.
“Okay, easy, easy…this is going to help, I promise. Wow. Look at that. He get hit with something, or he do that when he fell?”
“Hey, I could use some help over here, too.” A different voice, shriller.
“You shut up or you will be needin’ help, bet on it.”
Okay - easy, Colb.
“He got hit with that shovel, I figure. There’s blood on it, and I bet it matches Don’s. Bet the fingerprints match this guy‘s, too.”
Oh, yeah. Grabowski. Good work, Granger. And a shovel. Well, that would explain the twenty-one gun salute in his head.
“Shovel? Well, we’re going to want an x-ray for the zygomatic bone at the very least. Maybe the orbital socket too. That his name? Don? How you doin‘, Don? Can you hear me? Don‘t try to talk - just nod.”
Nod. That used to be easy, didn’t it?
“Then he musta pushed the dirt in - Jesus. Buried him alive. I mean, how could he even survive…?”
“Right now he’s surviving fine, sir. Needs some medical attention but he seems fairly stable. Why don’t you take a couple of deep breaths yourself?”
“I mean, I’m talking in a grave. Buried. Alive. In the dark. If it hadn’t been for that little redhead leading me to him, I never even woulda seen him until it was too late. It’s not, right? Too late?”
Redhead. Oh, yeah. The girl with the braids. So maybe she wasn’t with Grabowski after all - or she had a change of heart.
“I mean, aren’t open graves supposed to be taped off or flagged or something?”
Maybe they expected to be back at it early. Maybe they didn’t think it mattered overnight. Maybe Colby can’t hear me think anyway.
“Sir, I want you to swallow this for me. You‘ve had a shock. It will help. He‘s almost ready for transport. Did you want to ride along?”
“What about me?” The shrill voice again, almost a whine.
“If you’re smart, you’ll be picking out your own six foot hole. Attempted murder of a federal agent will land you there for sure.”
“We might need to wrap your fingers, too, so maybe you‘d better ride along. Sheesh, what did you do - dig him out with your bare hands?”
“This one is treat and release - few scrapes - nothing serious. And what looks like it’s going to be a heck of a shiner. He fall or something?”
There was a slight pause, then a growl. “Yeah. Or somethin’. You got room in the bus for him?”
Somebody was strapping something around his neck now and then he was lifted, something else solid sliding under his back. He tried a half-hearted lift of hand.
Wait a minute - what about the girl? Where’s she?
Someone grasped the hand, then there was dabbing at that too. “Some of these nails are torn away, looks like - let’s get him in the rig - I’ll get a better look in there.”
There were new voices all of a sudden, lots of them, too many to keep track of, all talking at once, on top of each other. He thought he heard his name a couple of times, and then he was in motion, gliding.
What about the girl?
He tried to ask again, but wasn’t sure he was making himself heard over all the bustle, wasn’t sure he was making any sound at all.
“Just relax, sir - we’ll have you there before you know it. They’ll take good care of you.”
He opened his mouth to ask for Colby, choked on something in his throat, started coughing. There were loud, fast voices and a lot of movement.
That was the last thing he remembered for a long time.
TBC