The Swan's Song.

Chapter 6

Happy Thanksgiving, my American readers! And happy Thursday to everyone else. I am extremely thankful that you all are along with me for this ride in this very fun to write and read story!

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Swan laid a sheet over his cot, grabbing a wool blanket that was folded under it. He fluffed his pillow, a brand new one that was unused, and laid down in the cot. He spread the blanked over himself and settled down, feeling the base under him carry his weight.

For the past few years, his bed had been a church pew with blankets and other scavenged bedding. It never proved to be comfortable, but he had grown used to it.

As he settled into the cot, he had come to realize that he hadn't felt such comfort since NORAD, where he had an actual bed with a mattress and a pillow.

"Aw hell. I hope I don't go to sleep too easily. Imagine if someone could see me fold like a chair once given a basic bed." Thought Swan.

His hopes weren't too high and for good reason, because he didn't even formulate another thought before sleep took him like death does to a sick child in the night.

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At first, it was the shuddered breaths he was taking, remembering the utter torment he was subjected to while being carried to the ViperStar medical suite by stretcher.

Swan knew where and when he was during said nightmare. A forced passenger on this journey he commonly took in his sleep. Kidnapped and forced to watch his own torture.

"You are going to be alright my friend. You MUST hold on. We are almost to the goal!" Chelikovs shaky and worried voice grated against Swan's ears.

While he didn't know much Russian, if anything at all, he could understand when Chelikov cursed.

"Fuck! Don't die on me now, bitch!"

Despite being spoken entirely in Russian, Swan knew those words. His adoptive father was worried, standing over his head as they legged him down a road in the stretcher.

A strangled groan escaped from Swan as he felt the searing pain in his legs and right arm. Writhing in the stretcher, he felt the second guy and his other best friend who was carrying him, loosen his grip on accident.

The stretcher rocked and Swan leaned too heavily on his right arm. A shrill wail erupted, echoing through Swans windpipe with a grating tone.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, man!" His best friend exclaimed with a worried voice.

"Shh! Shh! Please! Let the medicine take effect!" Chelikovs voice was pleading with him, yet Swan knew how the dream played out.

The medicine never worked any time they administered it and Swan was subjected to pain intolerable for the trip. Even though he knew and understood he was asleep and in a cot, he couldn't do anything to escape this nightmare.

Looking down, he spied the wounds he had 'recovered' from.

"No! Don't look!"

It was too late. Chelikov couldn't stop Swan from seeing the extensive damage.

His right arm was completely shredded, with Swan able to see mangled bone and flesh sticking out from what was left of his forearm. His upper arm, mainly the bicep area and his shoulder, were burnt and torn. He couldn't move his hand and he cried out in terror.