The Truth at the Wax Museum, 2/4
Title: The Truth at the Wax Museum, part two
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 3,910
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: See first half.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Barry, meanwhile, had stumbled into the wall and lost his balance when it had abruptly opened on him. Now he was traveling down a passage that never seemed to end. Whenever he came to where it looked like there was a wall, it turned. He was growing exasperated, not to mention concerned. If he did not get out of here soon, what would happen to the others? They were probably looking for him. If he had only thought to bring his phone with him . . . !
What was this? He squinted into the near-darkness. He had come to a set of stairs going up. Apparently this passage was behind the walls of every level. Unless possibly the stairs led to an exit. But all looked dark at the top, too. Shining his penlight up the stairs, he placed his other hand on the wall and began to ascend.
Could Elliott have fallen into this maze? Maybe Barry would find him in here, trying to get out. Or maybe he would find Mr. McKinley. Was he their enemy? He had seemed harmless. And yet he had not mentioned anyone else being in the house. He had also said that he made all the wax dummies himself. If they had a nemesis in here, it seemed that it would have to be him.
The sound of voices wafted to his ears as he reached the top of the staircase. His eyes narrowed as he moved down the darkened corridor, extinguishing his penlight. When the words were distinct enough to be understood, he stopped.
"How many are left?"
His heart nearly stopped beating. That voice . . . that woman's voice. . . . It could not be. . . .
"Two, three . . ." Now it was McKinley's voice, no longer kind and amiable. "The big guy wandered off somewhere. The other two just found the Dying Informant."
Barry stiffened. What? Had Elliott been found, only for something to happen to Scott?
"Yes, I was observing. The foolish soul calling himself the Dying Informant's best friend has been broken. And their leader, the man sporting braids, is almost to that point. Have you delivered the next wax figure?"
"I was just about to, Doctor."
"Make sure that they think it's their friend and not a dummy."
Barry gripped the penlight, a new hatred for this woman burning in his heart. There was nothing too cruel for her.
"How am I gonna do that?" McKinley sounded puzzled, not revolted-as he would if he had a heart.
"Leave another note. The first was quite effective."
"But what if the big guy finds his way back to them before I do?"
"See that he doesn't. I have my own plans for him."
"Okay."
The conversation ended. McKinley headed towards Barry, while the mad doctor's high heels clicked up the opposite direction. Barry pressed himself against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he watched their host go past. When he was sure the woman was far enough out of earshot he reached out of the darkness, clapping one strong hand over McKinley's mouth while wrapping his other arm around the stiffening shoulders. McKinley gave a muffled scream.
"I don't want to hear another yell out of you," Barry growled low. "Is that clear?"
Apparently he was menacing enough, as the captive gave a shaking nod.
"Good." Barry started to walk back down the hall, forcing McKinley to walk with him. "Now, you're going to tell me what kind of unholy alliance you have with that woman and what you've done to my friends because of it."
McKinley made a sound like a protest.
"You're going to." Barry's voice left no room for arguments.
At last McKinley nodded again. He did not have much choice.
****
Sean was at a complete loss.
Elliott was dead, his skin chalk white, his heart and breathing silent.
Scott was still cradling Elliott's body, that same, dead look in his eyes. He had not spoken since he had said that Elliott would never come back. Sean was not sure he could bear it if Scott did say something. On the other hand, he was not sure he could bear it if Scott stayed taciturn.
And Barry was not answering his phone. But now Sean was starting to remember that Barry had probably left it upstairs in their room. There was no way to contact him, no way to find out if he was alright short of discovering where he was. Sean had to go look; Barry could be in some terrible danger. Yet . . . how could he possibly leave Scott in the condition he was in? Scott was thoroughly devastated, having slipped into his own world. Sean had no idea how to bring him out of it.
"Scott," he pleaded, coming back to stand in front of the younger man. "I know this is horrible. El is . . . was . . . is one of our closest friends. And now you can't think of anything except that he'd probably be alive if they'd taken you instead, like they apparently meant to. But listen to me, Scott!" He bent down, gripping Scott's shoulders and forcing the blond to look up at him. "You listen to me-we're all in danger. Maybe they meant to get you first, but they want to see all of us dead. They'll still be after you, and me, too. But right now, Barry could be next. Are you just going to sit here while he could be somewhere needing our help?"
Scott started, blinking for the first time Sean had seen since he had closed himself off. He stared at Sean, as if seeing him for the first time.
Realizing he may have sounded too harsh, Sean lowered his voice. "Elliott would want you to go," he said.
Scott swallowed hard. "I . . . I know. . . . Sean . . ." He shook his head. "I . . . I'm sorry. . . . I know you're hurting too. . . ."
"That doesn't matter." Sean took a deep breath. "What matters is rescuing Barry. He might still have a chance."
Scott nodded but trembled, looking down at Elliott's lifeless body. "I . . . I just can't stop thinking about that note. They wanted me, Sean!"
"And it would've been better if it'd been you?" Sean frowned. "Elliott would've felt just as horrified as you did if he'd seen you laying in that coffin. So would I."
Scott shook his head. "But he would have been alive. . . ." He looked forlornly at the brunet's silent body. "I . . . I don't know how I can leave him. . . ."
Sean had to admit, he was not crazy about the idea, either. What if the murderer would come back and take Elliott's body for some reason?
Scott struggled to stand. "Maybe I can carry him on my back . . ."
Sean frowned. "Can you manage?" he wondered. Scott and Elliott were almost the same size, though Scott weighed a bit less. Sean would have a lot less trouble carrying Elliott, but maybe it was something Scott needed to do-a final act of respect for his best friend.
Scott nodded. "I can manage." He sounded hollow, numb.
Sean helped Scott get Elliott positioned on his back, letting the limp arms hang over Scott's shoulders. Scott shut his eyes tightly, fighting to hold back the new wave of grief rising in his throat. He straightened up, holding onto Elliott's legs just above the knees.
"I'm sorry, El," he whispered. "For everything. I . . . I miss you. . . ."
Sean swallowed, not daring to speak due to the returning lump.
"Are we going back in the basement?" Scott asked, looking to his still-living friend.
"We probably should," Sean said.
But as he walked over near the wall, it had other plans. The instant he casually placed his hand on it, it fell open-nearly causing him to lose his balance. His eyes widened as he took his hand away, desperately flailing in order to not fall. Scott came closer, staring as he reached to help Sean while trying to support Elliott, but Sean steadied himself in time. He sighed, blowing out his breath in frustration as he looked to the dark passageway that had just opened.
"Well, that was unexpected," he said. "I should've thought of this! Maybe Barry fell into something similar and it closed up after him!"
"Then this one might close up after us if we don't try to prop it open," Scott frowned. He shifted Elliott's body on his back, unsure of how long he could carry their poor friend without needing to stop and rest.
"We'll be careful," Sean said. "If we leave it open, McKinley or whoever might realize we're in there and come after us." He stepped through, pulling out his flashlight to shine around the cold walls. Scott warily followed, letting the panel shut behind them. Hopefully that was the right decision.
Sean immediately turned, knocking on the panel to see if it would open from the inside. It did not. He muttered under his breath, pushing his hat back on his head.
"Well, we're stuck in here now," Scott said, holding onto Elliott's legs as he cast an uneasy gaze around the tunnel.
"We sure are," Sean frowned, his hands going to his hips. "Let's just start walking and see where we end up."
A typical Sean answer. And Scott could not help but remember some of Elliott's alternately exasperated and amused expressions upon hearing them. He held tighter to the lifeless body. When he found the heartless murderer who had done this, he was not sure he could restrain himself from attacking in furious impulse.
"Scott?"
He snapped back to the present. Sean was looking at him, concern in his eyes.
"Are you with me?"
Scott hesitated, then nodded. "I'm with you." But Elliott isn't.
Sean's expression changed to sadness. For a moment he rested his hand on Scott's shoulder. But then he looked away, unable to stand seeing Scott's heartbreak and Elliott's stillness. He started to walk ahead.
"Come on then."
Scott followed, trying to keep up with Sean's longer strides. Sean did not mean to isolate Scott, but he was struggling to hide his own grief so much that it had to come out somehow. And once he realized, he would be thankful that he had been the one to walk in the lead.
As they turned a corner, the floor loosened under his feet. He did not even have time to step away. With a stunned cry he plunged through, the trapdoor spinning behind him before locking with a firm click.
Scott froze, his mind refusing to work. "Sean!" he screamed, falling to his knees. "Sean!"
With the utmost gentleness he eased Elliott off of his back, laying the brunet on the floor next to him before pounding on the trapdoor. "Open up!" he yelled. "I won't let you take another of us! I won't!"
But there was nothing he could do. As he listened, the horrible sound of a splash came from below. The scream stopped abruptly, as if cut off. Scott trembled, staring at the doorway that would not open. Sean had fallen into the hot wax. He must have! This was probably right above where the vat was in the basement. And Scott was sealed in this passageway. He could never get to Sean in time, if it was not instantaneously too late.
He fell back, still staring at the locked trapdoor. "It's just me," he realized. "I'm the last one left. . . ." Elliott was laying beside him, cold and dead. Barry was missing and quite possibly dead as well. And Sean . . . Sean was . . .
The urge to sink into utter, unfathomable despair was overwhelming. He was alone. His friends were gone, their lives in pieces.
But then the rage flared. They were gone because they had been murdered! Elliott and Sean had been cruelly killed! And he would not rest until he had avenged them. And Barry . . . if there was any chance Barry was alive . . . or even if there was not . . . he had to be found.
"Why did this happen?" he cried. "How did everything go so wrong?"
Several hours ago, they had all been alive and well. But they had signed their own death certificates by coming in this place. And irony of ironies-Scott, the one they had wanted to kill first, was still alive at the last.
Forlornly he reached for Elliott's body, cradling the limp form close. ". . . I'd give anything to get us back to our car before any of this happened," he choked out. "We could've started walking before McKinley found us. . . ."
But they probably would have noticed the house on a hill anyway and gone up to it on their own. And then everything would have played out the same. They would still be brought to this end.
He took a deep breath. He had to get up. He had to keep going until he found the way out-and Barry. But he could not make his legs move. And he needed to get Elliott onto his back again. . . . Maybe he could lean Elliott against the wall and then bend down, reaching for his friend's arms and bringing them over his shoulders. It would be tricky, since he would be reaching behind himself and unable to see what he was doing, but he was sure he could do it. He had to do it.
But as he moved to pull Elliott away from him, a shaking hand grabbed his arm. He stiffened, the stunned cry caught in his throat. Sean's flashlight, which he had dropped upon his fall, illuminated Elliott's weak, half-open eyes and tortured expression.
"Scott," he whispered. "Scott, I'm so sorry. . . ."
Scott's voice finally broke free as a strangled wail. "El?!" he half-screamed, half-sobbed. He had cracked. He was envisioning his dead friend alive again to help him cope, because he absolutely could not cope any longer thinking they had all been murdered.
Elliott's grip tightened. "I wasn't dead," he tried to explain. He pushed himself up, sliding his legs under him as he knelt on the cold floor. Then he pulled Scott into a firm, sorrowful hug.
"I was drugged," he said, his voice rasping. "I felt the needle plunge into my neck as soon as I turned and saw McKinley standing behind me." Scott trembled in his arms. Elliott shut his eyes tightly, sickened by what Scott had been put through. "I collapsed on the floor. Right before I passed out, I heard him saying that it was going to slow my breathing and my heartbeat so much that they couldn't be detected. He wanted to make me look dead. I tried to hold on. I tried to keep it from taking effect, but . . ." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. . . ."
Scott was still trying to process what he was being told. Elliott was alive? He . . . he had never been dead? It had been a cruel trick?
"I'm crazy," he said, shaking his head. "El . . . you . . . this has to just be in my head. . . ."
"It's not!" Elliott cried, heartsick to hear his best friend talking like this. "Scott, it's not, I swear it! This is real. I'm real. I . . . I just woke up now and realized what . . . what you were thinking. . . ."
Scott was silent. ". . . You're real?" he said at last. "El . . . ?" He dared to look up. Elliott was staring back at him, his eyes filled with anguish.
And suddenly Scott was clutching at Elliott, desperate for this to not be him going insane. "El . . . you're alive!" he exclaimed. "You're alive. . . ." It was too wonderful, too glorious, to be true. He could not deserve such a revelation. But he could not disbelieve it any longer.
"It's because of me," he choked out. "It's all because of me . . . !"
Elliott stiffened. "Scott, what are you talking about?" he gasped.
"The note. . . ." Scott looked up at Elliott, his eyes tormented. "There was a note, El. It . . . it said 'The Dying Informant is now the Dead Informant.' McKinley thought you were me! He wanted me!"
Elliott muttered something under his breath, his voice suddenly filled with the same rage that burned in Scott's heart.
"He'll pay for putting you through this," he said then.
Scott swallowed. ". . . It wasn't just me," he admitted. He could hardly bear to tell Elliott what else had gone wrong. But of course Elliott had to know.
Elliott gave him a worried look. "Were Sean and Barry with you?" he asked.
"Sean was," Scott said. "Barry . . he . . . he disappeared while we were looking for you!"
Elliott's heart sank. ". . . And Sean?"
". . . Sean snapped me out of my state," Scott said. "He told me we had to look for Barry, in case he was still alive. And of course it was true. So . . . we ended up wandering around down here. And Sean . . ." His voice broke. "Sean fell through the floor! He fell into a vat of hot wax in the basement! I . . . I heard the splash. He stopped screaming. . . ."
Elliott had gone sheet-white. "No," he whispered. "He can't be. . . . Not Sean. . . ."
"He's dead," Scott choked out. "He'd have to be. . . ."
But Elliott shook his head. "What if it was another trick?" he exclaimed. "What if he fell into a vat of water or something and splashed around, but got out?"
Scott stared, hope rising for just a moment. But then it sank again. "Why . . . why wouldn't he have called up saying he was okay?" he said. "He knew I was right there . . . and that I'd think he . . ."
"There could be lots of reasons!" Elliott said. "What if he even had to play dead because McKinley was around?" He gripped Scott's shoulders. "I won't believe he's dead until I see it for myself," he said fervently. "And even then, I might not believe it. Maybe he'd be given the same drug!"
Elliott's optimism was catching. Normally Scott would not have given up, but this had been such a horrible night-something that he would probably see in his dreams for ages afterward. Now, however, he was getting to his feet, helping Elliott rise at the same time.
"Maybe you're right," he said. "We have to find him, El! Him and Barry!"
Elliott nodded. "Let's look," he encouraged. "We have to find some way out of here sooner or later."
"And it'd better be sooner." The weight had already begun to lift from Scott's heart. Elliott was alive! He was rejoicing more each second for this miracle. He was still not sure it had fully sunk in yet. He had believed without a doubt that Elliott was dead. He had not had any reason to disbelieve it. But here Elliott was! He was breathing. His heart was beating. And maybe there was yet hope for Sean and Barry.
Elliott placed an unsteady arm around Scott's shoulders. "Let's follow this path to the end," he suggested, looking at the tunnel they were standing beside. "It looks like a dead end, but maybe it isn't."
"Yeah." Scott gave his friend a worried look. "Are you okay, El?" The drug had undoubtedly left him weak, but how much so?
But Elliott gave one of his winning smiles. "I'm fine," he said. "I might just need a little help for a while."
"You've got it." Scott brought his own arm around Elliott's shoulders in turn. "You can lean on me as much as you need to."
Elliott nodded, grateful. Inwardly he was still seething that this had happened. Why couldn't he have snuck up on McKinley instead of it being the other way around? Why had he been used to bring so much agony to the others? And Sean . . . Barry . . . where were they now? In spite of his determined comments, he was worried too. It would be impossible not to worry after what Scott had told him.
They headed down the darkened path after Scott paused to retrieve Sean's flashlight. He beamed it around the old walls, still uneasy. There were no cobwebs, which was unusual for such a place. It was either well-traveled or well-cleaned-or both.
A wall halted their flight before they had gone very far. They stopped, frowning at the obstacle. Was there some kind of exit that would appear if they tapped around enough? Or was this actually the end of the line?
They exchanged looks. Neither was willing to abandon the quest so soon. They each began to tap, kick, and hit the walls, desperate to find a way out.
"Hey . . . !" Elliott started to say after a while.
Scott started, whirling to look just in time to see a panel sliding open. But it did not lead out of this mess; a set of stairs descended to the next level. His eyes widened.
"The basement!" he declared.
Elliott nodded, moving to the top of the staircase. Then he steadied himself on the wall, his other hand flying up to his forehead. The drug was making him very dizzy as an aftereffect. Now it was starting to come on full-force.
Scott came up next to him in concern. "El?" He looked the other man up and down. "Are you okay?"
Elliott looked at Scott through his fingers. "Yeah," he said. "Really. It'll pass."
Scott frowned. "Maybe we should wait."
"No!" Elliott exclaimed, and then winced at the effort. "Scott, we need to keep going," he said, lowering his voice. "There's no telling what trouble the others might be in. The sooner we get there, the more likely we'll be able to help."
"I know, but . . ." Scott trailed off, torn between his feelings. Elliott needed to rest. But as long as their friends were in trouble, that would be impossible. And what if they stopped for a while and that sealed Sean's and Barry's fates?
"I promise I'm alright." Elliott smiled again, though it was mixed with pain.
At last Scott nodded. "We'll keep going," he agreed.
Elliott was visibly relieved. "Good," he said.
With Scott beside him they descended the stairs, bracing themselves for what they might find. But there was nothing. The tunnel just continued, as if it had never been interrupted. In this vein it forced the poor detectives to keep going, turning around and around until they were so dizzy they no longer had any idea which way they were headed.
"Look!" Scott said at last. "There's a sliver of light under there."
Elliott's eyes widened. "Just like if there was a door," he said.
Scott nodded, hopefulness coming into his eyes.
They hastened towards the spot, Scott reaching to touch it as soon as they approached.
"It is a door!" he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low.
Elliott stared, brightening. "That's great," he said.
Scott took hold of the knob, turning it and letting the door creak open. He stepped out, looking around the room. They were back in the main part of the basement. The vat of hot wax was just to his right. And . . . was that Sean, standing near to where it rounded the bend? He was facing the vat, as if there was nothing more interesting to look at.
"Sean?" Scott called.
Sean did not reply or even move.
Scott drew closer, Elliott right on his heels. Sean was standing with his legs spread apart and his arms raised, as if he had just struggled to climb out of the vat and now had jumped down. As Scott went around to see him from the front, his heart sprang into his throat. Elliott gasped.
Sean's eyes were wide and panicked-and blank. He was coated in the wax.
After everything else, the shock was too much. Scott crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 3,910
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: See first half.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Barry, meanwhile, had stumbled into the wall and lost his balance when it had abruptly opened on him. Now he was traveling down a passage that never seemed to end. Whenever he came to where it looked like there was a wall, it turned. He was growing exasperated, not to mention concerned. If he did not get out of here soon, what would happen to the others? They were probably looking for him. If he had only thought to bring his phone with him . . . !
What was this? He squinted into the near-darkness. He had come to a set of stairs going up. Apparently this passage was behind the walls of every level. Unless possibly the stairs led to an exit. But all looked dark at the top, too. Shining his penlight up the stairs, he placed his other hand on the wall and began to ascend.
Could Elliott have fallen into this maze? Maybe Barry would find him in here, trying to get out. Or maybe he would find Mr. McKinley. Was he their enemy? He had seemed harmless. And yet he had not mentioned anyone else being in the house. He had also said that he made all the wax dummies himself. If they had a nemesis in here, it seemed that it would have to be him.
The sound of voices wafted to his ears as he reached the top of the staircase. His eyes narrowed as he moved down the darkened corridor, extinguishing his penlight. When the words were distinct enough to be understood, he stopped.
"How many are left?"
His heart nearly stopped beating. That voice . . . that woman's voice. . . . It could not be. . . .
"Two, three . . ." Now it was McKinley's voice, no longer kind and amiable. "The big guy wandered off somewhere. The other two just found the Dying Informant."
Barry stiffened. What? Had Elliott been found, only for something to happen to Scott?
"Yes, I was observing. The foolish soul calling himself the Dying Informant's best friend has been broken. And their leader, the man sporting braids, is almost to that point. Have you delivered the next wax figure?"
"I was just about to, Doctor."
"Make sure that they think it's their friend and not a dummy."
Barry gripped the penlight, a new hatred for this woman burning in his heart. There was nothing too cruel for her.
"How am I gonna do that?" McKinley sounded puzzled, not revolted-as he would if he had a heart.
"Leave another note. The first was quite effective."
"But what if the big guy finds his way back to them before I do?"
"See that he doesn't. I have my own plans for him."
"Okay."
The conversation ended. McKinley headed towards Barry, while the mad doctor's high heels clicked up the opposite direction. Barry pressed himself against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he watched their host go past. When he was sure the woman was far enough out of earshot he reached out of the darkness, clapping one strong hand over McKinley's mouth while wrapping his other arm around the stiffening shoulders. McKinley gave a muffled scream.
"I don't want to hear another yell out of you," Barry growled low. "Is that clear?"
Apparently he was menacing enough, as the captive gave a shaking nod.
"Good." Barry started to walk back down the hall, forcing McKinley to walk with him. "Now, you're going to tell me what kind of unholy alliance you have with that woman and what you've done to my friends because of it."
McKinley made a sound like a protest.
"You're going to." Barry's voice left no room for arguments.
At last McKinley nodded again. He did not have much choice.
****
Sean was at a complete loss.
Elliott was dead, his skin chalk white, his heart and breathing silent.
Scott was still cradling Elliott's body, that same, dead look in his eyes. He had not spoken since he had said that Elliott would never come back. Sean was not sure he could bear it if Scott did say something. On the other hand, he was not sure he could bear it if Scott stayed taciturn.
And Barry was not answering his phone. But now Sean was starting to remember that Barry had probably left it upstairs in their room. There was no way to contact him, no way to find out if he was alright short of discovering where he was. Sean had to go look; Barry could be in some terrible danger. Yet . . . how could he possibly leave Scott in the condition he was in? Scott was thoroughly devastated, having slipped into his own world. Sean had no idea how to bring him out of it.
"Scott," he pleaded, coming back to stand in front of the younger man. "I know this is horrible. El is . . . was . . . is one of our closest friends. And now you can't think of anything except that he'd probably be alive if they'd taken you instead, like they apparently meant to. But listen to me, Scott!" He bent down, gripping Scott's shoulders and forcing the blond to look up at him. "You listen to me-we're all in danger. Maybe they meant to get you first, but they want to see all of us dead. They'll still be after you, and me, too. But right now, Barry could be next. Are you just going to sit here while he could be somewhere needing our help?"
Scott started, blinking for the first time Sean had seen since he had closed himself off. He stared at Sean, as if seeing him for the first time.
Realizing he may have sounded too harsh, Sean lowered his voice. "Elliott would want you to go," he said.
Scott swallowed hard. "I . . . I know. . . . Sean . . ." He shook his head. "I . . . I'm sorry. . . . I know you're hurting too. . . ."
"That doesn't matter." Sean took a deep breath. "What matters is rescuing Barry. He might still have a chance."
Scott nodded but trembled, looking down at Elliott's lifeless body. "I . . . I just can't stop thinking about that note. They wanted me, Sean!"
"And it would've been better if it'd been you?" Sean frowned. "Elliott would've felt just as horrified as you did if he'd seen you laying in that coffin. So would I."
Scott shook his head. "But he would have been alive. . . ." He looked forlornly at the brunet's silent body. "I . . . I don't know how I can leave him. . . ."
Sean had to admit, he was not crazy about the idea, either. What if the murderer would come back and take Elliott's body for some reason?
Scott struggled to stand. "Maybe I can carry him on my back . . ."
Sean frowned. "Can you manage?" he wondered. Scott and Elliott were almost the same size, though Scott weighed a bit less. Sean would have a lot less trouble carrying Elliott, but maybe it was something Scott needed to do-a final act of respect for his best friend.
Scott nodded. "I can manage." He sounded hollow, numb.
Sean helped Scott get Elliott positioned on his back, letting the limp arms hang over Scott's shoulders. Scott shut his eyes tightly, fighting to hold back the new wave of grief rising in his throat. He straightened up, holding onto Elliott's legs just above the knees.
"I'm sorry, El," he whispered. "For everything. I . . . I miss you. . . ."
Sean swallowed, not daring to speak due to the returning lump.
"Are we going back in the basement?" Scott asked, looking to his still-living friend.
"We probably should," Sean said.
But as he walked over near the wall, it had other plans. The instant he casually placed his hand on it, it fell open-nearly causing him to lose his balance. His eyes widened as he took his hand away, desperately flailing in order to not fall. Scott came closer, staring as he reached to help Sean while trying to support Elliott, but Sean steadied himself in time. He sighed, blowing out his breath in frustration as he looked to the dark passageway that had just opened.
"Well, that was unexpected," he said. "I should've thought of this! Maybe Barry fell into something similar and it closed up after him!"
"Then this one might close up after us if we don't try to prop it open," Scott frowned. He shifted Elliott's body on his back, unsure of how long he could carry their poor friend without needing to stop and rest.
"We'll be careful," Sean said. "If we leave it open, McKinley or whoever might realize we're in there and come after us." He stepped through, pulling out his flashlight to shine around the cold walls. Scott warily followed, letting the panel shut behind them. Hopefully that was the right decision.
Sean immediately turned, knocking on the panel to see if it would open from the inside. It did not. He muttered under his breath, pushing his hat back on his head.
"Well, we're stuck in here now," Scott said, holding onto Elliott's legs as he cast an uneasy gaze around the tunnel.
"We sure are," Sean frowned, his hands going to his hips. "Let's just start walking and see where we end up."
A typical Sean answer. And Scott could not help but remember some of Elliott's alternately exasperated and amused expressions upon hearing them. He held tighter to the lifeless body. When he found the heartless murderer who had done this, he was not sure he could restrain himself from attacking in furious impulse.
"Scott?"
He snapped back to the present. Sean was looking at him, concern in his eyes.
"Are you with me?"
Scott hesitated, then nodded. "I'm with you." But Elliott isn't.
Sean's expression changed to sadness. For a moment he rested his hand on Scott's shoulder. But then he looked away, unable to stand seeing Scott's heartbreak and Elliott's stillness. He started to walk ahead.
"Come on then."
Scott followed, trying to keep up with Sean's longer strides. Sean did not mean to isolate Scott, but he was struggling to hide his own grief so much that it had to come out somehow. And once he realized, he would be thankful that he had been the one to walk in the lead.
As they turned a corner, the floor loosened under his feet. He did not even have time to step away. With a stunned cry he plunged through, the trapdoor spinning behind him before locking with a firm click.
Scott froze, his mind refusing to work. "Sean!" he screamed, falling to his knees. "Sean!"
With the utmost gentleness he eased Elliott off of his back, laying the brunet on the floor next to him before pounding on the trapdoor. "Open up!" he yelled. "I won't let you take another of us! I won't!"
But there was nothing he could do. As he listened, the horrible sound of a splash came from below. The scream stopped abruptly, as if cut off. Scott trembled, staring at the doorway that would not open. Sean had fallen into the hot wax. He must have! This was probably right above where the vat was in the basement. And Scott was sealed in this passageway. He could never get to Sean in time, if it was not instantaneously too late.
He fell back, still staring at the locked trapdoor. "It's just me," he realized. "I'm the last one left. . . ." Elliott was laying beside him, cold and dead. Barry was missing and quite possibly dead as well. And Sean . . . Sean was . . .
The urge to sink into utter, unfathomable despair was overwhelming. He was alone. His friends were gone, their lives in pieces.
But then the rage flared. They were gone because they had been murdered! Elliott and Sean had been cruelly killed! And he would not rest until he had avenged them. And Barry . . . if there was any chance Barry was alive . . . or even if there was not . . . he had to be found.
"Why did this happen?" he cried. "How did everything go so wrong?"
Several hours ago, they had all been alive and well. But they had signed their own death certificates by coming in this place. And irony of ironies-Scott, the one they had wanted to kill first, was still alive at the last.
Forlornly he reached for Elliott's body, cradling the limp form close. ". . . I'd give anything to get us back to our car before any of this happened," he choked out. "We could've started walking before McKinley found us. . . ."
But they probably would have noticed the house on a hill anyway and gone up to it on their own. And then everything would have played out the same. They would still be brought to this end.
He took a deep breath. He had to get up. He had to keep going until he found the way out-and Barry. But he could not make his legs move. And he needed to get Elliott onto his back again. . . . Maybe he could lean Elliott against the wall and then bend down, reaching for his friend's arms and bringing them over his shoulders. It would be tricky, since he would be reaching behind himself and unable to see what he was doing, but he was sure he could do it. He had to do it.
But as he moved to pull Elliott away from him, a shaking hand grabbed his arm. He stiffened, the stunned cry caught in his throat. Sean's flashlight, which he had dropped upon his fall, illuminated Elliott's weak, half-open eyes and tortured expression.
"Scott," he whispered. "Scott, I'm so sorry. . . ."
Scott's voice finally broke free as a strangled wail. "El?!" he half-screamed, half-sobbed. He had cracked. He was envisioning his dead friend alive again to help him cope, because he absolutely could not cope any longer thinking they had all been murdered.
Elliott's grip tightened. "I wasn't dead," he tried to explain. He pushed himself up, sliding his legs under him as he knelt on the cold floor. Then he pulled Scott into a firm, sorrowful hug.
"I was drugged," he said, his voice rasping. "I felt the needle plunge into my neck as soon as I turned and saw McKinley standing behind me." Scott trembled in his arms. Elliott shut his eyes tightly, sickened by what Scott had been put through. "I collapsed on the floor. Right before I passed out, I heard him saying that it was going to slow my breathing and my heartbeat so much that they couldn't be detected. He wanted to make me look dead. I tried to hold on. I tried to keep it from taking effect, but . . ." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. . . ."
Scott was still trying to process what he was being told. Elliott was alive? He . . . he had never been dead? It had been a cruel trick?
"I'm crazy," he said, shaking his head. "El . . . you . . . this has to just be in my head. . . ."
"It's not!" Elliott cried, heartsick to hear his best friend talking like this. "Scott, it's not, I swear it! This is real. I'm real. I . . . I just woke up now and realized what . . . what you were thinking. . . ."
Scott was silent. ". . . You're real?" he said at last. "El . . . ?" He dared to look up. Elliott was staring back at him, his eyes filled with anguish.
And suddenly Scott was clutching at Elliott, desperate for this to not be him going insane. "El . . . you're alive!" he exclaimed. "You're alive. . . ." It was too wonderful, too glorious, to be true. He could not deserve such a revelation. But he could not disbelieve it any longer.
"It's because of me," he choked out. "It's all because of me . . . !"
Elliott stiffened. "Scott, what are you talking about?" he gasped.
"The note. . . ." Scott looked up at Elliott, his eyes tormented. "There was a note, El. It . . . it said 'The Dying Informant is now the Dead Informant.' McKinley thought you were me! He wanted me!"
Elliott muttered something under his breath, his voice suddenly filled with the same rage that burned in Scott's heart.
"He'll pay for putting you through this," he said then.
Scott swallowed. ". . . It wasn't just me," he admitted. He could hardly bear to tell Elliott what else had gone wrong. But of course Elliott had to know.
Elliott gave him a worried look. "Were Sean and Barry with you?" he asked.
"Sean was," Scott said. "Barry . . he . . . he disappeared while we were looking for you!"
Elliott's heart sank. ". . . And Sean?"
". . . Sean snapped me out of my state," Scott said. "He told me we had to look for Barry, in case he was still alive. And of course it was true. So . . . we ended up wandering around down here. And Sean . . ." His voice broke. "Sean fell through the floor! He fell into a vat of hot wax in the basement! I . . . I heard the splash. He stopped screaming. . . ."
Elliott had gone sheet-white. "No," he whispered. "He can't be. . . . Not Sean. . . ."
"He's dead," Scott choked out. "He'd have to be. . . ."
But Elliott shook his head. "What if it was another trick?" he exclaimed. "What if he fell into a vat of water or something and splashed around, but got out?"
Scott stared, hope rising for just a moment. But then it sank again. "Why . . . why wouldn't he have called up saying he was okay?" he said. "He knew I was right there . . . and that I'd think he . . ."
"There could be lots of reasons!" Elliott said. "What if he even had to play dead because McKinley was around?" He gripped Scott's shoulders. "I won't believe he's dead until I see it for myself," he said fervently. "And even then, I might not believe it. Maybe he'd be given the same drug!"
Elliott's optimism was catching. Normally Scott would not have given up, but this had been such a horrible night-something that he would probably see in his dreams for ages afterward. Now, however, he was getting to his feet, helping Elliott rise at the same time.
"Maybe you're right," he said. "We have to find him, El! Him and Barry!"
Elliott nodded. "Let's look," he encouraged. "We have to find some way out of here sooner or later."
"And it'd better be sooner." The weight had already begun to lift from Scott's heart. Elliott was alive! He was rejoicing more each second for this miracle. He was still not sure it had fully sunk in yet. He had believed without a doubt that Elliott was dead. He had not had any reason to disbelieve it. But here Elliott was! He was breathing. His heart was beating. And maybe there was yet hope for Sean and Barry.
Elliott placed an unsteady arm around Scott's shoulders. "Let's follow this path to the end," he suggested, looking at the tunnel they were standing beside. "It looks like a dead end, but maybe it isn't."
"Yeah." Scott gave his friend a worried look. "Are you okay, El?" The drug had undoubtedly left him weak, but how much so?
But Elliott gave one of his winning smiles. "I'm fine," he said. "I might just need a little help for a while."
"You've got it." Scott brought his own arm around Elliott's shoulders in turn. "You can lean on me as much as you need to."
Elliott nodded, grateful. Inwardly he was still seething that this had happened. Why couldn't he have snuck up on McKinley instead of it being the other way around? Why had he been used to bring so much agony to the others? And Sean . . . Barry . . . where were they now? In spite of his determined comments, he was worried too. It would be impossible not to worry after what Scott had told him.
They headed down the darkened path after Scott paused to retrieve Sean's flashlight. He beamed it around the old walls, still uneasy. There were no cobwebs, which was unusual for such a place. It was either well-traveled or well-cleaned-or both.
A wall halted their flight before they had gone very far. They stopped, frowning at the obstacle. Was there some kind of exit that would appear if they tapped around enough? Or was this actually the end of the line?
They exchanged looks. Neither was willing to abandon the quest so soon. They each began to tap, kick, and hit the walls, desperate to find a way out.
"Hey . . . !" Elliott started to say after a while.
Scott started, whirling to look just in time to see a panel sliding open. But it did not lead out of this mess; a set of stairs descended to the next level. His eyes widened.
"The basement!" he declared.
Elliott nodded, moving to the top of the staircase. Then he steadied himself on the wall, his other hand flying up to his forehead. The drug was making him very dizzy as an aftereffect. Now it was starting to come on full-force.
Scott came up next to him in concern. "El?" He looked the other man up and down. "Are you okay?"
Elliott looked at Scott through his fingers. "Yeah," he said. "Really. It'll pass."
Scott frowned. "Maybe we should wait."
"No!" Elliott exclaimed, and then winced at the effort. "Scott, we need to keep going," he said, lowering his voice. "There's no telling what trouble the others might be in. The sooner we get there, the more likely we'll be able to help."
"I know, but . . ." Scott trailed off, torn between his feelings. Elliott needed to rest. But as long as their friends were in trouble, that would be impossible. And what if they stopped for a while and that sealed Sean's and Barry's fates?
"I promise I'm alright." Elliott smiled again, though it was mixed with pain.
At last Scott nodded. "We'll keep going," he agreed.
Elliott was visibly relieved. "Good," he said.
With Scott beside him they descended the stairs, bracing themselves for what they might find. But there was nothing. The tunnel just continued, as if it had never been interrupted. In this vein it forced the poor detectives to keep going, turning around and around until they were so dizzy they no longer had any idea which way they were headed.
"Look!" Scott said at last. "There's a sliver of light under there."
Elliott's eyes widened. "Just like if there was a door," he said.
Scott nodded, hopefulness coming into his eyes.
They hastened towards the spot, Scott reaching to touch it as soon as they approached.
"It is a door!" he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low.
Elliott stared, brightening. "That's great," he said.
Scott took hold of the knob, turning it and letting the door creak open. He stepped out, looking around the room. They were back in the main part of the basement. The vat of hot wax was just to his right. And . . . was that Sean, standing near to where it rounded the bend? He was facing the vat, as if there was nothing more interesting to look at.
"Sean?" Scott called.
Sean did not reply or even move.
Scott drew closer, Elliott right on his heels. Sean was standing with his legs spread apart and his arms raised, as if he had just struggled to climb out of the vat and now had jumped down. As Scott went around to see him from the front, his heart sprang into his throat. Elliott gasped.
Sean's eyes were wide and panicked-and blank. He was coated in the wax.
After everything else, the shock was too much. Scott crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.