The After

Chapter 10

Burning. That was all Spencer could feel, extending from the tips of his numb fingers to his toes. His entire being felt as though it was on fire. His ribs ached with each wheezing breath. His brown curls clung to his forehead which glistened with cold sweat. Spencer felt like he was suffocating. The congestion in his nose made breathing almost impossible, aside from the occasional whistling of air trying to squeeze its way past his inflamed nasal passages. Am I dying?... I didn't even get to say goodbye… JJ… Henry and Michael… The team… Spencer desperately tried to open his eyes but even his eyelids hurt which he did not think was biologically possible. A figure swam before his eyes. His vision, already abysmal without his spectacles, was hindered significantly by the drugs in his system. Spencer squinted, desperately trying to figure out who was stood before him. As he slowly raised his head to get a better look, Spencer's eyes widened. Maeve… She looked like an angel. She had a glow about her and eyes were peaceful. They had had a similar encounter after Spencer's head injury. Maeve stepped forward and gently caressed Spencer's chiselled cheek, fingers dancing over the tape around his face. Spencer felt tears stinging his eyes.

"Mmpf," was all Spencer could respond with. His hot tears streaked his cheeks as he squeezed eyes shut.

"Spencer. You really do get yourself into some situations. You remember our last conversation? Only you can decide when it's your time. It's not now though." Spencer's eyes snapped open, a new determination and fire in his eyes. Maeve was gone, leaving him alone.

Spencer twisted his right hand in the flexi-cuffs. He knew what he was about to do would be very painful but he had to at least try. He pulled back on the cuffs until the plastic was cutting into his thumb joint. He gasped as he felt blood trickle over his skin. He kept going as he felt his thumb dislocate and more blood escape from his skin. Spencer swallowed back a wave of nausea from the new burning agony that spread through his hand. He felt his thumb slide free from the cuffs thanks to the crimson liquid that was coating his hand. After this, his slender fingers easily slid out of the cuff. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief as he shook out his hand to regain sensation in his numb fingers. He quickly grabbed his thumb and pulled it back into place with a sickening pop. Spencer glanced around, then attempted to free his other hand which was not made easy by his bloodied and numb hand. Once his left hand was free, Spencer tried to free his ankles. They had used zip ties on his ankles which he knew he would not be able to break. He twisted his ankle back and forth, easing the tie down the chair leg. His right leg came free first, closely followed by the left. The intact zip ties hung like strange ankle bracelets around his jeans legs. Spencer tried desperately to remove the tape from his face but it held fast against his skin and his fingers slid as he tried to grasp it. It'll have to wait… I need to get out of here… Spencer crept forward, his blood dripping steadily in his wake with gentle thuds on the ground. As he approached the door, he fumbled with his watch, wrestling a pin free from the strap. He thrust it into the lock and twisted it until he heard the sweet sound of a click. With a sigh of relief, Spencer swung the door open and disappeared into the shadows.

Spencer kept to the shadows in the corridors, moving as swiftly and quietly as possible. He kept his bloody hand in his jeans pocket to keep it from leaving a trail. He felt as though he could collapse on the spot but he knew he had to keep moving. The corridors seemed endless. He came across a flight of stairs leading down to a fire exit. Spencer silently descended the stairs and glanced around before using what little strength he had left to push the bar on the door and let it swing open. Daylight assaulted his vision, making him shield his face from the light. He squinted and looked around. The cool air was refreshing against his battered skin. A small town was within walking distance. Bracing himself, Spencer broke into a run.

Spencer slowed to a walk. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been followed. He wrapped his arms around his thin torso in an effort to warm himself. Breathing was becoming more difficult, made worse by his running. The town was quiet an reminded him of an old Western movie. The sky was darkening, threatening to spill at any moment. A cold wind whipped around Spencer and through his hair. He shivered. He spotted a small convenience store to his right with the lights on. Wasting no time, Spencer quickly made for the store. The bell above the door tinkled as he pushed it open. The older clerk behind the counter frowned at the dirty, battered figure that entered. He drew his shotgun from under the counter and pointed it directly at Spencer. Spencer's eyes widened and he raised his hands. Blood was congealed in the creases of his palms. He could only utter a muffled plea to the clerk. The clerk knitted his brows further, holding his shotgun steady.