General Lee's Revenge--Family Feud

Chapter Nine: Cold and Rainy

Which is what it was. Even still, that wasn't enough to convince Bo down from the roof. It was sprinkling, not too much rain. It was more of a damp fog than anything. Even so, it was better than the scorching summer heat they'd endured at Hollow Hill.

Bo leaned back, looking up into the haze, not entirely sure who he was talking to, but did it anyway. "What the hell do I do now?" he asked the heavens.

There was, of course, no response. A minute passed as he continued to stare at the bleak sky. A faint flash of lightning cracked across the sky directly above him. Static electricity festered lightly around him and the air grew thick. The aura was oddly familiar, too familiar to just be ordinary lightning, anyway. As Bo anticipated the oncoming of faint thunder, the sound of a word hissed in the wind.

Thunder...

The lowly rumble of faint thunder rippled across the sky.

Bo heard it again: Thunder...

More thunder, stronger this time.

THUNDER!

The sky lit up brilliantly and the once-faint purr of thunder turned into an oceanic roar. Bo quickly slid off the roof, disappearing into the open window. He slammed it shut, breathing hard. The storm died soon after and he stood, hands on the window sill, his head against the glass. He felt as if he were living in a nightmare.

"They're lookin' for you."

Bo turned abruptly to see Clayton standing in the corner of the room, struggling to light a cigar. He looked him up and down, Clayton, much like Russell, seemed oddly out of character. He was... normal, healthy even.

"So, is this for real this time, or is it all in my head again?" Bo asked.

Clayton chuckled, removing the cigar from his mouth.

The room was starting to spin; Bo put his hand on the window sill to steady himself as he fell back against the window.

"I'm afraid it's all in your head once again, cher. More of a fever dream, really, so I suggest you sit down before you fall," Clayton explained.

Sharp, searing pain shot through Bo's head, the wound in his forehead taking up its very own heartbeat. He fell onto his knees, catching himself with his arm.

"Ah, there it is. I was wonderin' when the adrenaline would wear off and you'd realize how much pain you're in," Clayton said.

Bo pushed himself up, staring Clayton down. "Shut up!" he growled.

"You feel that poundin' in your head? That's blunt force trauma. Notice how your thoughts are scattered? You can't think straight. That's your concussion comin' to life. The past few hours, you've been runnin' on adrenaline. How does it feel to be completely helpless? You can't even stand," Clayton chuckled.

"What... happened to the nice... Clayton?"

"Don't you remember? He's off to New Orleans."

Bo didn't reply this time, all he could really do was writhe in pain. It was starting to get worse. He tried to look up once more, only to find everything in a shade of red. Clayton was gone, nothing left of him but a bleak shadow in the red-tinted room.

There was a banging on the door and the knob rattled. As everything began to fade out, Bo remembered that he'd locked the door. He heard someone yell from the hallway, however, he was unable to discern it from either Caroline or Russell's voice. There was one last, loud bang on the door before the room faded to black.

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"Hey, you alright?"

Luke looked over to Cooter who was sitting in the passenger seat. He sighed and loosened his grip on the tow truck's steering wheel, the color returning to his knuckles.