Guns & Roses

Chapter 42

WARNING!

Another disturbing scene is ahead, if you are not comfortable with mild descriptions of mutilations I will use '~~' to indicate where the scene starts and ends.

With that, happy reading, and happy Halloween!

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[Sanford]

"Just one more time, bud." He let Deimos squeeze his hand to manage the pain, "you'll be okay."

2B applied more of the antiseptic to the wound, although it seemed fairly ineffective. In the span of a day, it managed to only get worse, which worried him deeply. The rain had come with no signs of stopping and, on top of it all, it just had to be acid rain. He just hoped Deimos could hold out until they found somewhere safer... And a little more sanitised to keep it from getting a worse infection.

"I'm tired, San." Deimos said once 2B finished.

"I know." Deimos turned on his side, laying in his lap and doing a sort of awkward hug from where he lay.

"This sucks." His voice was a little quieter as he seemed to be dozing off. Not unusual, but he was asleep almost all the time now.

"I know." Not only was his best bud really sick, but since Hank and Sheriff disappeared into the cave he'd had nobody to talk about it with. He just hoped either the rain stopped, or those two came back soon. Either way, he just wanted reassurance that Deimos would be okay.

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                                  [Hank]

Once again, Sheriff managed to step on the back of his boots. As much as he tried defending himself by saying it was an 'accident' and 'too dark to see', he swore he was doing it on purpose somehow. There wasn't much to do about it, though. If he tried landing a punch, he'd likely miss, and if it did land he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing the fear in Sheriff's eyes before knocking his lights out.

Or, maybe the dark was getting to him. It was, in fact, pitch black. All he could do was keep and hand on the wall to avoid bumping into anything. Even then, he had to duck and crouch at all sorts of angles, and god knew he could throw his neck out easily. It was pounding with a stiff soreness, and was on the verge of becoming a migraine. At least, he supposed, it wouldn't get worse with light, because there was none to speak of.

For the millionth time he cracked his neck for momentary relief before the soreness came back with a vengeance. 

"Did you hear that?" Sheriff whispered, making his migraine move further along. He had to deal with this loser with a migraine. How fun.

"No." He answered blankly, hoping Sheriff would shut up before he gave him an aneurism.

"I swear I heard somethin'" Sheriff's footsteps were no longer tracking after his, though he just rolled his eyes.

"It was just me cracking my neck." He answered with a huff, as the pain slowly slipped into a headache. "Now let's go."

If this damn cowboy knew what was good for him he'd get going without complaining anymore, but he just had to make things difficult. Like always.

"No, I-I swear it was somethin' different." Grunting, he stopped, wanting nothing more than for Sheriff to shut up and get on with it.

"It was nothing." He insisted, as his headache pounded harder, throwing him off balance. Groaning, he sat himself against the wall, wanting nothing more than to slip away into sleep so he could wake up without the damn headache.