Man 'O War

Chapter One: Dévà Vu?

The water continued to drip slowly, methodically, the type of dripping the keeps you up at night when you just cant seem to make that final leap to a peaceful sleep. His head pounded, his mouth was dry as Death Vally and that damned dripping was like a screw tightening everything around him, making him wanting to scream! The pain smothered him like a blanket of led. He was drowning in it. Focus he told himself, put the pain in a box to be dealt with later, right now he was to focus.

I'm alive? He thought to himself with a bit of trepidation. The pain attacked his body like a 1,000 red hot poking iron, this pain convinced him that he was very much alive. With his mortality verified he tried to slowly open up his eyes, but this reviled nothing but darkness. Closing them again and repeating the process, he half hopped that some sort of lite would magically appear. Unfortunately the renewed attempt resulted in the same conclusion, he was in the dark, both figuratively and literally.

Laying there in the dark, his body covered in pain Jack did what he did best, he used his mind to deduct where he was. The air was thick, damp and the smell of mold lingered all around. The dripping sound that first alerted him to his conciseness was off in the distance, maybe ten to twenty yards away. It was a slow but heavy dripping sound, the water falling into something more then just a puddle. The ground he was laying on was cold, soft but firm. He rested his arms next to his body, then slowly, gingerly stretched his arms outward as if he was attempting a snow angel. He allowed his fingers to rome, using them to feel for any danger or clues as to where he was. At the same time he listened, listened beyond the dripping water, beyond his own breathing and that is when he heard it, that is when he knew exactly where he was.

Knowing his location was both a blessing and curse. He was no doubt still on the Colonels property just outside of Ayr, Scotland, the bad news was he was in one of the caves created by the frigid waters that ran between Scotland and Ireland. These caves were created over thousands of years of water pounding against the Scottish coast, till they earth gave way. During low tide, they were a fun place for teenagers and such to explore and hide out from the adult world, however during high tide, they quickly turned into watery deathtraps. There obviously was a way out, its just finding it in time. Each of these watery caves where unique labyrinths of stone, moss and water. Each created in their own form, in their own time.

From the sound of the waves crashing off in the distance Jack calculated that he had two maybe three hours tops to find his way out, otherwise he will just be added to the long list of thrill seekers who payed the ultimate price for adventure. That is if they even find his body to realize he was dead. Many times people just end up disappearing, their bodies assumingly pulled out to sea with the lowering tide, never to be seen again.

With no time to waste he sat up, but this brought a whole new adventure in pain. Gingerly he reached around with his right hand and felt around the back of his head till he felt it. A very distinct bump, where blood once ran freely out of his head and now formed a mangled mess of coagulated blood and hair. There was still a small amount of blood that was freshly escaping, but nothing life threatening. Taking a moment to allow his head to stop spinning, he gingerly made it to his feet, reaching out in the darkness to find some sort of support. Once up he was able to reach out to his right and feel the slick damp wall of the cave. This provided much needed support as he continued to get his mind and body back in order.

Resting there for a moment longer his eyes began to adjust to the darkened cave as he noticed the light from the full moon seeping into the cave from above. This was a major find, it not only provided some sort of light but it also helped him determine in which direction he would be able to signal for help. If he can just signal the Colonel he might be able to get out of this night alive. That is when he remembered his trusty Zippo. Franticly he padded down his wool suite jacket that still adorned his body and in the inner breast pocked he felt the familiar bulge of his very used Zippo lighter.

It took almost a dozen strikes before a merger flame occupied the wick in the lighter. Jack protected the flam the same way a mother bear would protect her young. Slowly moving it around he tried to better asses his situation. First from the light of the moon and now from the Zippo Jack was feeling confident that he would escape death one more time. As he turned around in a circle he saw it, the one things that all that confidence hinged on and just like that he realized that it was almost all assured he would die tonight. That this time he was going to stay dead.