Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

Chapter 5: Though I Crawl Through the Valley

It was still dark when he woke up. There was a wonderful moment where he thought he still had some night left to finish his dream while also wondering what had happened to his blanket... and then he remembered.

He'd woken because he was shivering. Not so little tremors shook him from toe tips to lips – even his breath came out in stuttering fits. He didn't want to move in spite of needing to do exactly that. If Tiny was close, activity might encourage the man to go another round with the fire hose. Or maybe he'd play Thanksgiving with his captive taking on the role of the stuffed turkey. More bread? Why yes, please; I can't get enough of your savory cooking!

Shawn tried to put an edge of sarcasm into his thoughts but wit and wits had slunk from his mind and left him only with fear as a bunkmate. It truly sucked – this emotion being one he'd never spent a great deal of time getting to know. He preferred to siphon off his anxiety and let Gus handle it instead. Gus could store up fear like a camel for those long desert walks.

Okay, so apparently Mr. Nonsense was still hanging around. He'd have to sub for sarcasm until a suitable replacement could be found.

Sudden clanking propelled his mind back to the surface as imaginings went from his best friend transporting nomads on his back across the Arabian desert to the vivid impression of two glowing eyes turning towards the sound he'd just made.

He froze.

It was so hard to keep himself from panting. Just the action of his lungs was enough to crowd away other movements. Footsteps could be sliding his way and he'd be ignorant of the approach until the creature lunged for his throat. Swallowing was worse – thick and sticky residue created a dry click at the back of his tongue.

The trudging of time had nothing to mark it with both sun and glowing numerals absent from his eyes. A wild guess, his go-to when “informed theory” wasn't available, was that somewhere around fifteen minutes had gone by since he'd stopped all motion including the activity that processed breathing.

So he might have been off a touch but it damn well felt as though fifteen minutes had slogged past by the time he sucked at the air with the sound of a drowning wildebeest.

Somewhere during the lull between coughing and choking, he noticed that his hands were unbound. It was there and gone before he took his next breath.

Anything alive and sharing his oxygen definitely knew he was awake now. But even after he'd gone through the reflexes of sputtering and gasp-sobbing, there was no activity... anywhere. Not even from the rodent variety. So... that was good. Great would be better but these things had to be taken in steps. The first step? Get his naked butt off the floor.

He realized he'd overlooked several major steps in between when his first motion ripped a bolt of pain through his shoulder and down his right side. He was back to holding breath once more as he pounded his left fist against the concrete. Of secondary note, when gravity pulled him onto his back, was that his spine had stiffened to near immobility.

Reaching for the “getting too old” card would actually have been a comfort – but age had very little to do with why his vertebrae were locked together like Leggos. Kicked, shoved, hung by his ankles, left passed out on a freezing floor... the fact that he was still capable of any movement at all was a testament to youth more than anything.