Return of the Re-animator-Chapter 2
Title: Return of the Re-animator
Verse: Same
Characters: Herbert West, Daniel Cain, Megan Halsey, ensemble
Pairings:
Rating: Mature, Adult Situations, Adult Language, Violence, Gore, Sex
Status: Unbeta'd and I know it.
..
Caine opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The inky blackness enveloped him, smothering him with its eerie silence. He shifted the rifle from one hand to the other, then pulled the flashlight from his jacket pocket. Standing on the landing, he directed its beam down into the lab. It appeared to be in the same state of disarray that he had left it in. But he knew West was down there. There wasn't anywhere else he would go.
A chill touched his spine as he slowly, tentatively started down the steps, the faint odor of re-agent in his nostrils. He shifted the weight of the rifle forward and called out "West?" "Herbert, it's me Daniel, I've come to help you." A faint cracking sound came from below and to Caine's left. He swung the flashlight to where the noise had originated, but could see nothing. "Easy Dan," he muttered, "Herbert, I'm here to help you. I know you're confused, let me help."
He paused at the bottom of the staircase and panned the flashlight around the room. There were so many shadows, so many places to hide. Caine noticed that one of the overhead lamps still seemed to be intact so he cautiously crept across the room until he was standing directly under the light. He scanned the room again. Tucking the flashlight under his arm, he wiped the sweat from his palm.
Caine barely had time to turn when he heard the movement behind him. West barreled into him knocking him to the floor; the rifle and flashlight skittering out of reach. Paralyzed by the sight before him, Caine stared into the face of what once had been Dr. Herbert West.
West stood over him, his eyes lit with an unnatural brightness. His face contorted with rage. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose. He released a horrifying cry and charged Caine, picking him up as if he were a child. "Herbert, no!" Caine shouted as West shook him. But there was no light of recognition in Herbert's glowing eyes. He threw Caine across the lab table, breaking it in two. Before Caine could recover, West scooped him up and threw him against the concrete basement wall. Caine crumpled to the floor in a heap, fighting back unconsciousness, his eyes slowly drifting in and out of focus. His head lolled back against the wall.
In the back of Caine's mind, one thought burned through the haze and pain. If he died here and now, then he was sentencing Megan to an unnatural life of horror. It was that thought alone that drove Caine to fight back, no matter what the odds in facing the newly re-animated Herbert West.
Caine squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them wide in an attempt to clear his vision. His head felt as if he had been hit with a sledge hammer, but now at least his eyes were focused.
He quickly scanned the room to find Herbert, but could see nothing in the gloom. "Damn it, he muttered under his breath. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his right hand into his pocket feeling for the syringes of re-agent he had put there before coming in the house. "Ok, ok, easy now, Herbert, old buddy, I've got something for you." "Come and get it, you son of a bitch."
As Caine struggled to his feet, Herbert stepped forward, the beam from the overhead light casting crazy, angled shadows across his pale face. Caine kept his right hand in his pocket and with his left made a slow, placating gesture towards West. "Herbert, how you doing there, huh, can you understand me?”
West stood absolutely silent and still. "Maybe that's a good sign,” thought Caine, “At least he's not trying to throttle me." Then Herbert smiled, not a warm, glad to see you smile, but one that spoke of nightmares to come. Slowly he advanced towards Caine, blackish blood dripping from his grinning visage.
Caine stood his ground; it was now or never. If this didn't work, then West would truly die, and it would end here. He had already decided, that if West was beyond bringing back to rationality, then he would return to the hospital, where he would take Megan's life and then his own. Herbert's journals and what was left of the re-agent would go into the hospital furnace. It was a bleak prospect, but the only one Caine's conscience would allow.
West was no more than three feet away now and still moving teasingly slow. Herbert's mind was an explosion of sound and color. He senses felt heightened to a degree that every sensation was delightfully excruciating. He wanted it to go on and on. That's why had decided to prolong this game he was playing with the meat. The meat, it had a name didn't it? He used to remember it. Daniel, yes, that was what he had once called the meat. Daniel was his friend; he had helped him with his experiments. Herbert paused, there was something there, a memory of what he had once been. If he could just concentrate, it was so hard to concentrate with all the sights and sounds. Oh, and the smells, the meat smelled so good, like fresh blood. He was so cold and his friend Daniel was so warm.
"Come on, come on, what are you waiting for!” screamed Caine. "Don't play games with me, Herbert, you want a piece of me, then come and get it!” West let his anger blossom like a fiery bellows until it consumed everything around him. West roared, covering the remaining distance between them with amazing speed, catching Caine before he had a chance to pull the syringes from his pocket.
Vivid colors pulsed before Caine’s eyes as West’s hands closed on his throat and began to squeeze. Strangely, there was no pain, just a light-headedness that made him feel weak and sleepy. Caine pried at West's hands in vain attempt to dislodge them. It was no use, West had a vice-like lock on his throat. Pulling back, Caine brought his right leg up to deliver a crushing blow to the groin. If Caine had been dealing with a normal man, the action would have had an immediate effect, but Herbert was far beyond such trivial pains.
Herbert's face was inches from his own, his eyes still glowing faintly as if they swam in re-agent. Caine's body felt suddenly heavy as if he were treading water. He waited for the invariable sight of his life flashing before his eyes. But it wasn’t forthcoming. He was vaguely aware of tinkling as the syringes in his pocket tapped together. If he could just make his mutinous arm move, just enough to retrieve the syringes from his pocket.
The world was quickly becoming black around the edges. Caine dug into his pocket seeking salvation. He wrenched the needles free from his coat and struggled to face them the right way. Drawing on what was left of his strength, Caine drove the needles down into the soft tissue of West’s neck and pressed the stoppers home. The pressure on Caine’s neck never wavered. "No air, it's not working!" Caine's mind screamed, as the spots before his eyes faded from multi-color to black.
Then nothing.
Caine dropped to the floor with a wump, no longer having the strength left to move. He drew in a large gasp of air. His throat felt as if it were crushed. To test that theory, Caine took another ragged breath and was relieved to note that his first assumption was wrong. As life-giving oxygen began to permeate his starving brain cells it occurred to him that he should be dead and maybe he should find out why he wasn’t. Looking up, he was instantly rewarded with a sight he had hoped to never witness again. That of a body caught in the throes of a re-animated birth.
Herbert was still standing in the same spot, his eyes opened wide, as if in shock. Then he began to shake. Caine had seen the re-animation process at work often enough, but no matter how many times he saw it, it still horrified him. It was as if, all the cells in West's body had gone into a hyperactive frenzy. Herbert put his hands to his head as if it would burst, his body twitching and vibrating. A puppet on invisible strings, he bent over double and threw himself back.
Then he screamed.
It was a wail of torment beyond any description. The hair on the back of Caine's neck stood up at the sound. There was something primal in that kind of suffering. Caine began inching his way to where the discarded rifle lay. It had come to this after all.
He still felt as though he had leaded weights attached to his arms and legs. Only the fear that at any moment West would pounce and finish the job he had started gave Daniel the impetus he needed.. Inch by inch Caine crawled. Finally, managing to reach out with stiffened fingers he felt the comforting grip of the rifle stock. Though he ached badly his body seemed to be more reasonable about taking orders. Rolling to the right Caine raised up on one knee and faced the spot where he had last seen Herbert doing his macabre dance.
Not there.
A soft mewing issued from the corner. Caine rose unsteadily and stumbled towards the sound. There, head bowed, Herbert sat, rocking slowly back and forth on his knees. His arms clasped tightly to his chest.
There was no mistaking the sound of soft weeping. Daniel raised the rifle to his shoulder and let his finger lightly brush the trigger. He said a silent prayer for all of them, hoping that God had not already condemned their souls. “Forgive me,” Caine whispered as he gently tapped the trigger.
Verse: Same
Characters: Herbert West, Daniel Cain, Megan Halsey, ensemble
Pairings:
Rating: Mature, Adult Situations, Adult Language, Violence, Gore, Sex
Status: Unbeta'd and I know it.
..
Caine opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The inky blackness enveloped him, smothering him with its eerie silence. He shifted the rifle from one hand to the other, then pulled the flashlight from his jacket pocket. Standing on the landing, he directed its beam down into the lab. It appeared to be in the same state of disarray that he had left it in. But he knew West was down there. There wasn't anywhere else he would go.
A chill touched his spine as he slowly, tentatively started down the steps, the faint odor of re-agent in his nostrils. He shifted the weight of the rifle forward and called out "West?" "Herbert, it's me Daniel, I've come to help you." A faint cracking sound came from below and to Caine's left. He swung the flashlight to where the noise had originated, but could see nothing. "Easy Dan," he muttered, "Herbert, I'm here to help you. I know you're confused, let me help."
He paused at the bottom of the staircase and panned the flashlight around the room. There were so many shadows, so many places to hide. Caine noticed that one of the overhead lamps still seemed to be intact so he cautiously crept across the room until he was standing directly under the light. He scanned the room again. Tucking the flashlight under his arm, he wiped the sweat from his palm.
Caine barely had time to turn when he heard the movement behind him. West barreled into him knocking him to the floor; the rifle and flashlight skittering out of reach. Paralyzed by the sight before him, Caine stared into the face of what once had been Dr. Herbert West.
West stood over him, his eyes lit with an unnatural brightness. His face contorted with rage. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose. He released a horrifying cry and charged Caine, picking him up as if he were a child. "Herbert, no!" Caine shouted as West shook him. But there was no light of recognition in Herbert's glowing eyes. He threw Caine across the lab table, breaking it in two. Before Caine could recover, West scooped him up and threw him against the concrete basement wall. Caine crumpled to the floor in a heap, fighting back unconsciousness, his eyes slowly drifting in and out of focus. His head lolled back against the wall.
In the back of Caine's mind, one thought burned through the haze and pain. If he died here and now, then he was sentencing Megan to an unnatural life of horror. It was that thought alone that drove Caine to fight back, no matter what the odds in facing the newly re-animated Herbert West.
Caine squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them wide in an attempt to clear his vision. His head felt as if he had been hit with a sledge hammer, but now at least his eyes were focused.
He quickly scanned the room to find Herbert, but could see nothing in the gloom. "Damn it, he muttered under his breath. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his right hand into his pocket feeling for the syringes of re-agent he had put there before coming in the house. "Ok, ok, easy now, Herbert, old buddy, I've got something for you." "Come and get it, you son of a bitch."
As Caine struggled to his feet, Herbert stepped forward, the beam from the overhead light casting crazy, angled shadows across his pale face. Caine kept his right hand in his pocket and with his left made a slow, placating gesture towards West. "Herbert, how you doing there, huh, can you understand me?”
West stood absolutely silent and still. "Maybe that's a good sign,” thought Caine, “At least he's not trying to throttle me." Then Herbert smiled, not a warm, glad to see you smile, but one that spoke of nightmares to come. Slowly he advanced towards Caine, blackish blood dripping from his grinning visage.
Caine stood his ground; it was now or never. If this didn't work, then West would truly die, and it would end here. He had already decided, that if West was beyond bringing back to rationality, then he would return to the hospital, where he would take Megan's life and then his own. Herbert's journals and what was left of the re-agent would go into the hospital furnace. It was a bleak prospect, but the only one Caine's conscience would allow.
West was no more than three feet away now and still moving teasingly slow. Herbert's mind was an explosion of sound and color. He senses felt heightened to a degree that every sensation was delightfully excruciating. He wanted it to go on and on. That's why had decided to prolong this game he was playing with the meat. The meat, it had a name didn't it? He used to remember it. Daniel, yes, that was what he had once called the meat. Daniel was his friend; he had helped him with his experiments. Herbert paused, there was something there, a memory of what he had once been. If he could just concentrate, it was so hard to concentrate with all the sights and sounds. Oh, and the smells, the meat smelled so good, like fresh blood. He was so cold and his friend Daniel was so warm.
"Come on, come on, what are you waiting for!” screamed Caine. "Don't play games with me, Herbert, you want a piece of me, then come and get it!” West let his anger blossom like a fiery bellows until it consumed everything around him. West roared, covering the remaining distance between them with amazing speed, catching Caine before he had a chance to pull the syringes from his pocket.
Vivid colors pulsed before Caine’s eyes as West’s hands closed on his throat and began to squeeze. Strangely, there was no pain, just a light-headedness that made him feel weak and sleepy. Caine pried at West's hands in vain attempt to dislodge them. It was no use, West had a vice-like lock on his throat. Pulling back, Caine brought his right leg up to deliver a crushing blow to the groin. If Caine had been dealing with a normal man, the action would have had an immediate effect, but Herbert was far beyond such trivial pains.
Herbert's face was inches from his own, his eyes still glowing faintly as if they swam in re-agent. Caine's body felt suddenly heavy as if he were treading water. He waited for the invariable sight of his life flashing before his eyes. But it wasn’t forthcoming. He was vaguely aware of tinkling as the syringes in his pocket tapped together. If he could just make his mutinous arm move, just enough to retrieve the syringes from his pocket.
The world was quickly becoming black around the edges. Caine dug into his pocket seeking salvation. He wrenched the needles free from his coat and struggled to face them the right way. Drawing on what was left of his strength, Caine drove the needles down into the soft tissue of West’s neck and pressed the stoppers home. The pressure on Caine’s neck never wavered. "No air, it's not working!" Caine's mind screamed, as the spots before his eyes faded from multi-color to black.
Then nothing.
Caine dropped to the floor with a wump, no longer having the strength left to move. He drew in a large gasp of air. His throat felt as if it were crushed. To test that theory, Caine took another ragged breath and was relieved to note that his first assumption was wrong. As life-giving oxygen began to permeate his starving brain cells it occurred to him that he should be dead and maybe he should find out why he wasn’t. Looking up, he was instantly rewarded with a sight he had hoped to never witness again. That of a body caught in the throes of a re-animated birth.
Herbert was still standing in the same spot, his eyes opened wide, as if in shock. Then he began to shake. Caine had seen the re-animation process at work often enough, but no matter how many times he saw it, it still horrified him. It was as if, all the cells in West's body had gone into a hyperactive frenzy. Herbert put his hands to his head as if it would burst, his body twitching and vibrating. A puppet on invisible strings, he bent over double and threw himself back.
Then he screamed.
It was a wail of torment beyond any description. The hair on the back of Caine's neck stood up at the sound. There was something primal in that kind of suffering. Caine began inching his way to where the discarded rifle lay. It had come to this after all.
He still felt as though he had leaded weights attached to his arms and legs. Only the fear that at any moment West would pounce and finish the job he had started gave Daniel the impetus he needed.. Inch by inch Caine crawled. Finally, managing to reach out with stiffened fingers he felt the comforting grip of the rifle stock. Though he ached badly his body seemed to be more reasonable about taking orders. Rolling to the right Caine raised up on one knee and faced the spot where he had last seen Herbert doing his macabre dance.
Not there.
A soft mewing issued from the corner. Caine rose unsteadily and stumbled towards the sound. There, head bowed, Herbert sat, rocking slowly back and forth on his knees. His arms clasped tightly to his chest.
There was no mistaking the sound of soft weeping. Daniel raised the rifle to his shoulder and let his finger lightly brush the trigger. He said a silent prayer for all of them, hoping that God had not already condemned their souls. “Forgive me,” Caine whispered as he gently tapped the trigger.