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CH 29: Comfort and Time
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 17:41:56 +0000 UTC~; Lowell ;~
Lowell grimaced. He'd managed to stress his back earlier while he and Toby carried the dirtbike through the woods, and every heavy impact sent jolts of pain from his tailbone up to his neck. A part of him wished he'd let Toby take the ride instead of him - but this was Lowell's task. He would deliver the note and the information. The throttle was pinned wide open even as the suspension bottomed out against rocks and ridges of dirt.
The caravan's path was simple enough to follow, even in the dark. He just had to maintain speed. His teeth rattled inside his helmet, and he heard gasoline sloshing in the metal tanks strapped behind him. His hands had gone numb again, but shaking them out would require him to slow down. The engine hadn't started to sputter yet - he could go farther before he had to refuel. He would wring every second of travel time that he could manage. He could shake the feeling back into his hands once he was forced to stop.
Lowell hadn't meant to read the note. Marlene and James were the leaders of their group - strong, professional, and even-keeled. They were leaders worth listening to, and when they gave orders - he listened. Not just because of hierarchy, but because he wanted to. When James said not to open the note to Marlene, Lowell had intended to honor that. But it had slipped out of his pocket while loading the tanks. And the words were seared into his brain.
Fight imminent. Outnumbered & outleveled. Don't think we can win this.
I love you, Honeybadger.
A rock bottomed out the rear suspension and kicked the seat up into Lowell's back. He winced through the pain, and kept the throttle pinned.
--
~= Louis =~
Louis darted his eyes around the massive cloth tent. It reminded him of historical movies, like the temporary home of some intrepid explorer. Lanterns hung from the tent's supports, and sheets separated a sleeping area from the main portion he found himself in. A three-foot wide clock, the kind you'd see sometimes on people's living room walls, was leaned against one of the tent's supports. Louis couldn't see the time, but he could hear it ticking away. Armor and clothing hung on a series of wooden poles, and a bent sword laid on the ground.
An open box sat in the corner of his vision, and Louis could make out the rifles it contained. Another two just like it were stacked nearby. On the far wall, a map as large as a queen sized blanket showed rivers, mountains, and other markers he didn't recognize. It was dotted with diamond-shaped symbols - nearly all of those were circled in green. A hand slapped the table in front of him. The intricate tablecloth shifted, and the man sitting across from him adjusted it.
"Stop that. Pay attention to me. Now, answer my questions." Bertrand commanded. The man wore a robe, stained with specks of old blood.
Louis wasn't certain how long it had been since he and Reid were kidnapped off the wall. He'd been forced to watch, frozen, as a dozen men held down his friend and choked him out, even while they pumped him full of drugs. They'd dragged the both of them back to this tent, and Reid hadn't woken up in that time - or since. They'd stuffed Reid into a metal cage that was sunk deep into the ground. The thin man watching the cage was injecting Reid with more and more drugs as time ticked on. In the last few minutes, the thin man had started to frown, and frequently looked over at the clock. Louis wished Reid would wake up. Or that some help would come.
Bertrand had been pressing him for information about sanctuary the entire time he'd been here. The man only let Louis regain control of himself for moments, and only to answer his questions. The sensation of his body freezing, muscles clenched in unnatural ways was awful. He wasn't sure how long his strength would let him keep resisting. He felt his body become his own again, and gasped in a few deep breaths before he spoke.
"I don't know - please just let my friend and -"
His bodily control was taken from him just as quickly as it had been on the wall. Bertrand leered at him from across the table.
"You know, boy - I've been asking you nicely for answers. But I don't think you want to answer me after all. I think you're not useful for information." He put his elbows on the table and pressed his chin into his hands. "But you could be useful for something else. I'll give you one more chance - point out on this map where your beacon is, and you'll be fine. Refuse, and we'll do something... else."
The threat was clear in his words. If Louis could move his body, he would have shivered at that. He felt his body again, and took a deep breath. This man was dangerous, well-armed, and his people had enough power to incapacitate Reid - even if they needed a group to do it. He couldn't see giving them what they wanted ending in anything other than violence. He trembled, thinking of what would happen to Sanctuary if he complied with Bertrand - and what would happen to himself if he didn't.
He raised a hand, and let it hover over the smaller map for several seconds. It was a fairly detailed image of Sanctuary's outer wall, and surrounding area. A few spaces within the walls were filled in, but the area where the beacon sat was blank. Louis breathed deeply. He relished controlling his own flow of air for a few more seconds, and pointed down to the map of Sanctuary.
"There. That's where you'll find it." He couldn't keep the fear out of his voice. "That's where the beacon is."
A grin split Bertrand from ear to ear as fire from the flickering lanterns cast shadows across his face. Louis felt his hair stand on end.
"Thank you." The words were low, and full of genuine gratitude. Bertrand stood, and cracked his neck as he walked over to his armor. He pulled a knife from its sheath. Louis's eyes shot open. He tried to push himself away from the table - to run - but his movements froze before he could stand.
Bertrand wagged a finger at him. "It's tough, you know. Getting information out of people. But I have to try - it makes finishing my quest so much easier. Some people, they stay silent at first, but then you get them to answer one question, and then you can ask them another, and soon you're talking like old friends. Others - they'll try to lie to you. Everything they say is a half-truth, or they mislead, or they tell you what you want to hear. How can you tell the difference?"
Bertrand tapped the blade of the knife on the map of Sanctuary - not to where Louis had pointed, but to where the beacon actually was.
"You start with a question you already know the answer to."
Louis felt cold. Numb. He wanted to scream.
"Now that I know you're a liar, we get to do something fun. You -" He looked at the knife, "get to become something powerful. And I get to help you transform."
Bertrand rounded the table. "Yes - and it's the perfect time for this, too. Perfect. I've always had a knack for timing, you know. It's my true gift. It's how I knew when to approach your camp, and when to pick you and your friend off the wall. And now, it's finally time for another transformation."
Bertrand crouched until he was eye level with Louis.
"Did you know its been days? Days. The salamanders don't count, of course. They're just beasts, they don't... feel the same. Not like people."
He put a hand on Louis's knee.
"Don't worry - it feels wonderful. You'll get to become something greater, to build up my glory and my light."
Bertrand leaned forward until their noses touched.
"It's beautiful, you know. Just like a sunset."
Louis felt the tip of the knife press into his neck. Bertrand's voice lowered to a whisper.
"Everyone loves to watch the dying light."
--
+ Reid +
When Reid was eight, he spent most of his weekends making blanket forts in his parent's living room. The blankets were always strung clumsily between couch cushions, kitchen chairs, and lamps - and they always collapsed at one point or another, burying him in fuzzy cloth. He'd stay there for a time, comfortable in the warm folds. But eventually the same comfort would turn claustrophobic, and suffocating. He'd find his way to the seam between blankets, and climb free.
Reid felt like a blanket fort had collapsed on him, but he couldn't find the seam. His thoughts drifted back to a thousand different memories of his life, and he bounced between warmth and a strong urge to move. As he struggled to find his way out, bits of recent memories had started to flow back to him. He was on the wall. They'd done something to Louis. They'd taken Reid - choked him out while needles poked into him.
The needles.
Reid forced himself to focus. He'd been injected with something - something that was making it hard for him to think, to stay in conscious control of his own mind. He nearly slipped back out of control. Was that another pinprick on his arm? He couldn't focus. Everything was too relaxed, too warm.
Reid tried and failed to rouse himself over, and over, and over. Each time, when he got close, he felt the echo of a pinprick, and consciousness slipped away from him. He didn't know how long the cycle lasted before the idea finally floated into mind. He needed a stronger emotion to cancel out what he was feeling. He needed something drastic. He needed pain.
Reid focused in on himself. There was no room for growth, he knew, but that's not what Reid was after. He found the way down to his leg - and forced the bone to grow.
Slowly - ever so slowly - a barbed point spread into his calf. The muscle and skin tried to part - to accommodate the growing bit of bone, but Reid forced it to still. His barb tore into the muscle and pain bloomed within him.
Another pinprick hit him in the shoulder - but Reid didn't lose control. He focused on the feeling of the needle - something cold was being pushed into him. It was foreign - unwanted - harmful.
Reid focused on it. It was impossible to grasp, to hold. As it flowed through him, it became nearly impossible to differentiate between his blood and the foreign substance. It seeped into him and became invisible.
His muscles relaxed.
No.
He needed to stop what was happening - and he needed to do it quickly. Healing himself, growing muscle, growing bone - it was always a slow process. Methodical. Reid willed himself back into control and grew the barbed bone in his calf. This drug wasn't part of him, and neither were those feelings of comfort and relaxation. He wanted it gone. Desire burned in his mind, and he pushed himself. Pain began to bloom.
Good. It'll keep me awake.
He worked through himself like a detective, cataloging every bit of bone and tissue. He tracked the flow of his blood, and everything it touched. Watched oxygen get carried in and out of him. And then he saw a clue. Every part of his body worked in harmony with the rest. Elastin kept his muscles flexible. His pores sweat to keep his body cool. His gut bubbled to break down nutrients, and his intestines carried away the junk. But some parts of his body were out of sync. Chemicals that he hadn't produced were in his blood... his muscles... and his brain.
Reid moved forward on instinct - he needed to counteract what was happening in his body. He needed to fight against the things he hadn't produced himself.
The first sign of a change was the heat - like the very start of a burn when you held a hand to close to an open flame.
It wicked through his body, blooming and shrinking at seemingly random places. But the comfort - that suffocating sense of comfort had started to fade.
Another pinprick hit him in the shoulder, and the heat moved to meet it. The heat bloomed into an actual burn - but Reid didn't mind. He'd spent weeks roasting himself from the inside out every time he healed. His muscles burned like he was stuck in an oven every time he empowered himself. Reid was no stranger to the pain. When the bloom subsided, he sent the flicker towards his head, and rooted out the foreign substance there.
Perception 1 -> 6
Control 48 -> 49
Notifications flashed into Reid's view, and he opened his eyes.
Reid saw the bars of a cage. Above him, the same thin man from the failed negotiations was lying on his stomach. A needle was in his hand as it shot down towards Reid's shoulder. Reid caught the man's arm with his own - and squeezed the arm until he felt bone begin to snap - then kept going.
The man started to scream - but Reid thrust his other arm up through the cage bars and crushed his windpipe until he went limp. Reid ignored the notification that popped into view, and moved both hands to the cage's metal bars. He braced himself, and pulled. Metal groaned as thick steel started to deform. Reid let his anger bubble.
They drugged me with god-knows-what, and put me in a cage.
A fucking cage.
The sense of warm comfort was gone now - and the suffocating feeling was gone along with it. Reid sucked in deep breaths of cool air.
The two bars he'd been pulling came free from the door. The open spaces they left weren't big enough for Reid to fit through, so he grabbed another pair.
His mind seethed. How long had he been lost, comfortable, idly content in that relaxed state? How much time had he wasted? What had happened to Louis - and everyone else while he was comfortably suffocating? Was Susan alright? Was Sara?
The metal groaned.
I should've pushed James to take action. I should've done something myself. Reid chided himself. He'd become so... comfortable at Sanctuary. Comfortable with James and Marlene making the decisions. Comfortable with letting Sara go out into danger without him.
Comfortable with slowing his own growth to help the group.
Comfortable slowing down his search for a cure.
Comfortable with the fact that he was dying.
Comfortable, in the thought that he could just sit back enjoy what might be the end of his life.
Heat roiled in his chest.
He'd been so happy to see his family again - and he leapt at the first chance to be normal again with them. He loved being with them - loved every moment, but he had stopped progressing - stopped really trying - all to get that chance at the idea of normalcy.
But nothing about this world was normal.
Nothing was ever going to go back to the way it was. His cancer wouldn't magically disappear. Sara wouldn't be going to the college that accepted her. Monsters wouldn't stop attacking. And people... people might be the most dangerous thing of all.
The bars snapped, and the thin man's dead body fell down into the cage with him. Reid shoved it to the side. He had felt comfortable, even on the wall. Comfortable talking to Louis. Comfortable enough to take his eyes off the people his gut had tried to warn him about.
Pain flared in his calf as Reid climbed up and out of the cage. He was so grateful for it. The pain was real, and true, and honest. It was the growth of his bones - his muscles - and himself. Even Susan's healing didn't stop Reid from feeling the pain, every time he improved himself. Every step of his journey had been painful. Reid had thought, more than once, that the pain would break him. But it never did. Instead, he'd sharpened himself against it like a blade. Let go of weaknesses like throwing out an old pair of boots.
Pain was progress.
Comfort was an illusion.
Reid stood on the ground above the bars, and took another deep breath of cool night air. He wasn't comfortable - or suffocating.
He was free.
