Road Trip To Hell

Deeper

Cover: A clearing surrounded by trees and darkness. There are three graves. Two are unmarked, but one has a stick with Jason's hat and coat draped over it.

ebastian's return to consciousness was slow and uneasy at first. But, when enough of his mind had returned to realize he was still alive, the remaining shreds of awareness pulled themselves together with quick, almost painful efficiency.

Not that anyone would have noticed.

Sebastian kept his eyes closed, and his breathing even. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He waited. With his eyes still closed, Sebastian took in as much of his surroundings as he could with his remaining senses.

He was laying on his back, the surface beneath him was hard and cold. HE was cold. His clothes were missing. The only thing between his skin and the chilled air were his boxer shorts and the bandage on his shoulder... which meant that his weapons were gone as well.

The air supported a curious mixture of smells... sweat and human body odors mixed with liberal amounts of bleach and cleaning solutions. There was even a hint of some artificial flower-like smell. Air freshener.

Sebastian's fingers moved ever-so-slightly over the surface on which he lay. Smooth, but not perfectly so. Not metal. Tile. Cheap floor tile.

There were very few sounds... but what little he could hear was very telling. Voices. Two. Male. One was clear, the other distorted and distant. A radio. The two men were talking to each other. The clear voice was the deputy. Sebastian didn't recognize the other, but then, he hadn't expected to. The deputy was trying to keep his voice low, but still had to speak somewhat loudly in order for his words to carry over the obviously poor-quality equipment. Sebastian could make out only a few words... but if he moved a bit closer, perhaps he could hear both sides of the conversation.

But not yet.

Even without the voices, Sebastian had had enough information to tell where he was... and that there was little chance that someone was watching him closely. He opened his eyes and looked up at the plain brick ceiling. Then he turned his head slightly. Bars. He was in a jail cell.

Sebastian hated cells.

They were too much like cages.

Out of the corner of his eye he could just make out the deputy. The tall, lanky youth was hunched over a tiny desk, speaking into an microphone. He hadn't seen Sebastian yet. Sebastian returned his head to its original position and started running through the possible methods of escape. One obvious one came to mind, but-

"Hey, Sebastian," Ashley's voice whispered from the other side of the wall. She must have been in the cell adjacent to his. Sebastian had almost forgotten about her. She sounded unharmed. "I know you're awake... I an feel your creepy little mind rattling around over there."

Psychic.

Sebastian has almost forgotten about THAT, too. Instantly his mind closed in on itself... his thoughts clenched shut, like a fist. That level of concentration would have taxed a novice, but Sebastian had been practicing meditation for so long that it was second nature. It had to be. Not only was a focused mind essential in combat, but it also had other benefits... such as repelling the prying tendrils of the psychically gifted.

"Oh, please," said Ashley. "Its not like there was anything interesting in there, anyway."

Sebastian intentionally his disapproval slip past the mental wall he'd erected.

"Whatever," Ashley retorted. A second later, she added: "Typical."

<<What's Typical?>> Sebastian placed the thought just outside his defenses, so that it could be easily read.

<<You.>>

Ashley's mental reply was easy to hear. All Sebastian had to do was still his monitor his own, carefully-controlled thoughts and watch for one that didn't belong. It came soon enough, and Sebastian replied to it as he had before... by placing his words at the front of his mind where Ashley could see them.

<<How so?>>

<<You try to be all worldly and nonchalant, but when it comes to me you're just like everyone else. As soon as you realize that I can read your mind, you start getting paranoid. Your thoughts get all agitated and fake... like you're trying to blow smoke at me so I won't see what's in your head. But all it does is draw attention to what you REALLY think: That I'm some kind of freak.>>

<<Interesting.>>

<<Like I said... 'whatever'.>>

<<So, If you discovered that a stranger had the key to your house..>>

<<That's different->>

<<How?>>

Ashley's mental reply was not forthcoming, so Sebastian continued.

<<And if I considered you a freak, then I wouldn't be talking to you as I am now.>>

<<Oh. You don't think that's creepy?>>

<<Do you?>>

<<I mean... you don't... I dunno... get all wierded out about somebody else's thoughts being in your head?>>

<<My opinion is irrelevant. We are incarcerated. This is the most efficient method of communication available.>>

<<In other words, it's freaky, but you're such a hardass that you'll endure it. Like I said: Typical.>>

<<Of the two of us, YOU are the one most unsettled by your abilities. Not me. But this is not the time to discuss your insecurities->>

"Insecurities!" Ashley said aloud. The sudden outburst got the deputy's attention. He stopped mumbling into the microphone and looked at the prisoners. He gave Sebastian a cursory glance... but Ashley received a long, hard stare.

Sebastian didn't like that stare.

The deputy turned back to the microphone.

"Hold on a minute, sheriff," he said. "The prisoners just woke up."

"Dewey-" the voice on the other end of the radio began. But the deputy quickly twisted a large knob on the device, lowering the volume so that the rest of the sheriff's words couldn't be heard. Then he got up and started toward the pair of cells holding Sebastian and Ashley.

<<Can you influence him, now?>> thought Sebastian.

<<No luck. My thoughts just keep sliding off of him... like he's got a Teflon brain or something.>>

<<Must be the same force that protects him from physical harm->>

"Well, well, well," said Dewey. His high southern accent turned his attempt to sound menacing into something almost comical. "Seems our vandals have decided to wake up."

"Vandals?" said Ashley. Sebastian watched the deputy... studying the man's movements and body language. He stood in front of the cells, but remained well out of arm's reach.

Why? He was invulnerable... or was he?

"So..." the deputy continued. "What are you supposed to be... a satanic cult or something?"

"No, doofus," said Ashley. "We're the good guys. YOU'RE the evil one, here."

"Riiight. Good is evil and wrong is right, eh? That how it goes?"

"Whatever you say," said Ashley.

"So was this some kind of ritual or somethin'? Or maybe you freaks just get off on mutilating cattle. Well, the law don't allow that sort a thing 'round here. We've been on to you people for months... don't know how you got away those other times, but you're guests of the county now, and you ain't a-comin' out of them cells until... well... until the sheriff decides what to do with ya. We might even have ourselves a FEDERAL case, here!"

<<Sebastian?>> came Ashley's uneasy mental sending.

<<I know,>> Sebastian replied. <<Something is wrong. If this man was what we thought he was, we wouldn't be in these cells->>

<<And if he WASN'T... then I would be able to get at least SOMETHING out of his mind.>>

"What are you doing?" said Dewey. He looked suspiciously from Sebastian to Ashley and back again.

"We're communicating with our minds," said Ashley. "It's a satanic-thing.... you should try it. Just lower that shield or whatever you got going-"

There was a brief flash of fear in Dewey's eyes... so quick that Sebastian was the only one that saw it. Something about what Ashley said had startled him, but Dewey quickly replaced the fear with a stern frown. Or at least he made a good effort.

"Uhhh..." he said, still gathering his wits. He took an unconscious step back away from the bars. "I-I don't care what you people say; I ain't listening to no devil talk!"

<<Sebastian! This guy isn't a dragon... he's just some redneck country dumbass!>>

<<So I've noticed.>>

"We're gonna catch your friend, and then the THREE of ya can just rot quietly in them cells! Damned if any of ya is gonna be tearin' up any more cows in THIS county!"

Sebastian took note of what the deputy said. Their friend. Brooks was still out there. But just because he hadn't been captured didn't mean that a rescue was imminent. Brooks could be injured or dead... in which case it was imperative that Sebastian get to him before something undesirable happened.

It was time to get out of here.

ason's return to consciousness was anything but slow or graceful. Suddenly, the darkness surrounding him grew teeth... sharp, jagged barbs of pain that tore at his mind and dragged him reluctantly toward that bright, shining agony that was consciousness. Jason tried to fight his way back. He tried to break free of the current of pain that was sweeping him farther and farther away from the peaceful oblivion where he once was... but it was too much. It was too strong. He couldn't pull free... and so the pain swept him faster and faster toward its inevitable destination...

Jason opened his eyes. He saw nothing but darkness... and even THAT was painful to behold. His head felt like a thick leather sack stuffed with wet cotton. He couldn't think. He knew SOMETHING had happened, but he couldn't quite recall what. The last few minutes of his memory lay scattered across the bottom of his mind like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A puzzle that he currently lacked the strength or desire to assemble. His tongue flopped around in his mouth, but he could neither taste nor smell anything.

He heard something. A cacophony of sounds that merged into one confusing mass in his head. None of them meant anything... but perhaps they would once his head cleared. For now, the voices (whispers?) and sounds (footsteps?) meant nothing.

He couldn't feel anything except the generalized agony that draped over him like a sheet. He couldn't take stock of his wounds yet, because everything hurt equally. And the pain was too great for him to try and move yet. But as the seconds that seemed like hours ticked slowly past, the pain began to change. Like a heavy fog, the once-thick blanket settled into specific areas of his body. Its intensity varied from minor discomfort to OH MY GOD, while his mind slowly cleared, allowing him to more fully appreciate the sensations flooding in from his broken, battered body.

The fall (from where?) had snapped a few ribs. Jason couldn't tell how many, but it hurt to breathe and that was all he needed to know at the moment. His head hurt. A lot. It hurt in a general sense AND in a hot, blazing blossom of pain centered just behind and above his left temple. Head injury. Possible concussion. (Jason tried to remember what a concussion was and if it were fatal.) He could still feel his toes (they hurt), so he assumed that his neck and back weren't broken. His left arm was one gigantic bruise. He couldn't tell if it were broken or not. His right arm was less banged up, but it hurt like hell to move his elbow. Moving either one of his legs was impossible. Not that he COULDN'T do it... but making the attempt took much more effort than he could muster at the moment.

He could make a fist with his right hand without too much pain.

And that was it. Everything else hurt like hell.

<<I fell down a mountain.>> The words assembled themselves in his mind. They made his head hurt. <<Or something.>>

He closed his eyes and tried to pull his memories together. Ashley. Sebastian. The dragon. A fight. A chase. Falling. Blackness. Waking up. Pain.

<<Yep, that's about it,>> he thought as he reviewed the chain of mishaps that had brought him here. <<But where is 'here'?>>

He opened his eyes again, fully expecting to see something other than the darkness he saw when he'd opened them the first time. He didn't. Nothing but darkness... darkness and strange noises that were on the verge of making sense, but weren't quite there yet.

"...donovan..." Jason moaned. In doing so, Jason discovered that his jaw hurt. And his teeth.

There was no reply from the ghost that was supposed to be constantly at Jason's side.

Donovan wasn't there.

Jason's stomach, already reeling from what felt like a hundred punches to the gut, began to churn. Donovan wasn't here. He'd just fallen an unknown distance... was draw forcibly back into consciousness... and Donovan wasn't here.

<<Oh, God...>> Jason thought. <<I'm dead!>>

Dead. The idea slowly sank in. Dead. His tenure as knight was over, and now he'd been brought back for the sole purpose of passing the Gifts on to someone else. But... did dead people feel pain? How would you actually KNOW you were dead? Donovan had never explained that bit. But Jason did know one thing:

<<...sebastian. I gotta get to sebastian...>>

Jason tried to sit up... a motion that unleashed a shattering blast of agony so intense and pervasive that Jason couldn't even scream. He whimpered. And even THAT made the pain worse.

"...ohhhh...." he groaned.

"Hey!"

A voice.

Not Donovan.

Not Sebastian or Ashley.

Jason realized for the first time that there were people standing around him. And that his mind was perhaps not as clear as he thought it was. It seemed to have missed a few things.

The people, for one-

FWOOM!

-the cloth that was draped over his body, for another. When it was suddenly yanked away, Jason was looking up at a black, star-filled sky framed by three faces. Three men... all were young, perhaps in their mid twenties, but one was noticeably older than the other two. Early thirties? Jason couldn't tell... he was too busy squirming and wincing. All three men reeked of beer and sweat. Their auras were all variations of the same theme: Swirling pools of black and brown murkiness... shadowy swamps dotted with occasional specks of light. The older man's aura was especially dark, and instead of the drunken bemusement of the other two, his facial expression showed hints of thinly-veiled anger and maliciousness. Something was clearly not right with that man.

"See," said one of the younger ones... a thin man with long dirty hair. "I TOLD ya he wuddn't daid!"

"Sheeeeeit..." replied other youth. He was a dirty, slimy-looking man that was well on the way to developing the beer-belly that usually befell men in their forties. "I'll be damned. What do we do with him now?"

"His bein' alive don't change anything," said the older man. His southern accent was a little less pronounced than the others... as if he'd lived elsewhere for a while, or perhaps had made an effort to cover it up. He had tatoo's up and down his thick, muscular arms, but Jason's eyes couldn't focus well enough to tell what they were. "'Cept now, maybe we got a little bit more work to do."

"Awww, maaan," the fat one whined.

"Stop yer bitchin,' Brew," said the older one. "We can't let this opportunity pass us by. We gotta get somethin' outta this... somethin' besides those fancy guns he was carrying."

The guns. Jason's guns were missing. He didn't have to check his holsters to find out... he just knew. The weight of his coat. The curious numbness in a certain part of his mind. His Affinity could tell in a thousand different ways. His weapons were gone...

... most of them.

"I'm wit you, Doug," said the skinny one. "This here boy fell outta the sky, 'specially for us!... iss like Gawd WANTS us ta do it!"

"M-maybe you shouldn't be sayin' that, Nate..." said the fat man.

Doug... the older man...looked at the other two. It wasn't a quick look... it was a long, stare, that ended in a smile.

"We're gonna have us some fun, Brewster," Doug replied. "This boy's gotta pay for what he done."

<<Done?>>

Jason tried to move again. He managed to prop himself up on his elbows. He squinted and hissed his way through the pain. Amazingly, the more he fought... the worse the pain got.

"...I didn't do anything..." he grunted. "Give me my-"

The steel toe of Doug's boot caught Jason in the side.... a hard, sharp blow to the kidney.

"AAGH!" Jason rolled away from the kick, but the act of moving stirred up a whole new level of pain. "AAAAGH!"

He resisted the urge to curl up into a tight ball and die. Instead, he tried to stand-

Doug kicked him again, this time in the center of his back. The kick, and the pain that followed it, locked every single one of Jason's muscles into position for an instant... just long enough for Brewster's cowboy boot to find its target: The center of Jason's chest.

"A-" Fractured ribs tore at bruised and bleeding flesh, snatching Jason's scream from his lips before it could even gather momentum. But even as his eyes squinted shut, Jason's right arm reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants... the .45 semiautomatic was nestled in the small of his back, underneath his shirt.

His hand never made it to the weapon.

Doug kicked him in the shoulder, and Jason's entire right arm went mercifully numb for a few seconds... long enough for Brewster to bring his foot down onto Jason's wrist and temporarily pin his hand to the ground. Someone else kicked a clod of dirt right into Jason's pain-widened eyes. The instant before his eyes shut, Jason saw the darkness in Brewster's aura swirling around the man's leg toward Jason's trapped hand-

...

"My GOD, Brewster!" she screamed. "You can't be SERIOUS!"

"I didn't MEAN to hit her! She just ran out in front of the car!"

"You have to go to the sheriff... you have to go to the sheriff NOW!"

"Are you crazy! I was DRUNK! And... and I KILLED that girl! Sheriff Tate'll put me away for GOOD this time! Nobody has to know about this!"

"What are you sayin', Brewster?"

"I put the body in my trunk. Me an Nate... me and Nate and Doug, we'll take it and we'll bury it. We'll put it deep in the woods where nobody'll ever find her! And if they do... well... by that time the animals will have fixed her up so nobody'll ever know what really happened. Nobody'll recognize her. Nobody'll ever know-"

"Oh, my God... you... you're serious..."

"We'll do it. I know they'll help me."

"You can't do that. You can't do that! What about that little girl's parents!"

"What about ME!? You wan' me ta go ta JAIL!"

"You KILLED that girl!"

"Its not like I MEANT to do it! Its not like its MURDER! But if anybody finds out, I'll go to jail just like it WAS murder! That's why can't nobody EVER find out!"

"No... No, Brewster! You can't do this. Ah'm not gonna LET you!"

"Where are you goin, Elizabeth!"

"Let GO of me!"

"Where you goin'!? What are you gonna do!?"

"I'm going to Sheriff Tate! That girl's parents have to know- OUCH!, you're hurting me!"

"I can't let you do that!"

"LET ME GO!"

"I'm sorry, baby... I just can't let you do that!"

"LET GO!"

"OUCH! You KICKED me, you bitch!"

"Brewster... Brewster put that down! Oh, God..."

"I can't let you tell nobody, Elizabeth. Don't make me hurt you. Please."

"Oh, GOD! BREWSTER, PLEASE DON-"

-CHUNK-
....splatter...

-and then the vision was gone, leaving only memories and nausea behind.

"...unnngh..." Jason groaned. That's all there was for a moment... and then punches and kicks began to rain down on Jason. They came from every direction; whenever Jason tried to roll away from one assailant, he opened himself up to another one. His back and sides became throbbing lumps of pain. Someone kicked him in the head, and Jason blacked out for one merciful instant...only to return to brutal consciousness and weather even more blows. Again, Jason tried to reach for the gun, but a hard punch to the neck sent him into spasms of agony. The blow missed his windpipe by less than an inch, but the bruised tissues began to swell until his throat was squeezed almost completely shut. Chocking, Jason grabbed his throat with his left hand, trying to shield it from other blows. When someone kicked him in the kidney, he couldn't even scream. He couldn't scream the second or third times, either.

Jason's right hand shot out to ward off the fourth blow. He grabbed Doug's foot... and his clenching fingers sank deep into the man's inky aura-

...

"I'm real sorry about your woman, Brewster... but you did the right thing."

The woods should have been filled with the sounds of animals and insects... but they were ominously silent, as if the denizens of the forest knew what was transpiring in their midst, and were watching it with silent disapproval.

Two graves stared back up at Doug like dark, empty eye sockets. Side by side... one larger than the other. Doug still had a shovel in his hand, leaning on it lightly as he admired his handiwork.

The bodies were right beside him.

They lay out in the open, with no blanket or sheet to cover them. The other two tried not to look at them, but Doug... he liked glancing over at them occasionally as they dug. The way their limbs lay at odd angles to the their bodies was entertaining to him. Especially the little girl, who had a few more joints in her arms and legs than normal, thanks to her encounter with Brewster's car. Her legs were bent back the wrong way, and her arms like short, thick snakes laying in the grass.

Doug chuckled and turned back to Brewster, who was pacing rapidly back and forth behind him like a preacher at a tent-revival.

"She was a nosey bitch," said Doug. "Who didn't understand man's business. She stuck her nose in where it didn't belong, and got what ALL meddling bitches need to get. You're a better man for it, Brewster."

"Oooohhh, maaan," Brewster whined. "I killed her... we was gonna get married next year..."

"Well I don't think that's gonna happen now, Brew," said Doug.

"Ohhhh, I'm gonna be sick."

"Nate, shut him up!"

"C'mon, Brew," said Nate, "Take another drink."

Nate put a bottle of whisky to Brewster's lips. The youth drank deep, then Nate took a swig for himself.

"Be a man, now," Nate said as he clapped Brewster on the back.

"Don't get too drunk to finish this," Doug warned. "We still got some work to do."

"errrRAAACK!" Brewster was vomiting violently onto a nearby tree.

"Brew ain't cut out for this, Doug," said Nate. "I don't know what we're gonna do."

"About him? Whatever we have to do. We helped him out because he's our friend... but we're in it now almost as deep as he is, and I ain't gonna let that fat bastard drag me down just because HE ain't got the stomach to clean up his own mess."

"So whatcha sayin?"

"If he don't start showin' some backbone real quick, its gonna be THREE graves in these woods instead a' two."

"Naw," said Nate. "It ain' gonna come ta that. It ain't gonna go like that, Doug. He'll be fine."

"You jus' make sure a that. He's more YOUR friend than he is mine."

"Uh-huh. So, uhhh.... what we got left ta do after we dump the bodies?"

"The graves is just the start," said Doug. "Somebody's gonna come lookin' for these bitches, an they ain't gonna stop until they find out what happened. We need to make sure they only find out what WE want 'em too."

"I don' unnerstan.'"

"Somebody's gonna take the fall for this. Somebody HAS to take the fall... and that's gonna be us if we don't find somebody else to do it for us."

"Like who?"

"Somebody that nobody'll miss... or maybe somebody that's already wanted fer somethin' else. All we gotta do is connect 'em to these two bodies and make sure they ain't in a position to say otherwise."

"Uh-huh. So where we gonna get-"

"I don't KNOW, Nate! Stop askin' stupid questions... ya can't expect me to think of EVERYTHING! We'll figure that part out once we get these bodies in the ground!"

"Okay. Okay, Doug, whatever you say."

"Damn right, whatever I saw. Now you and Brewster go get the stuff offa my truck."

"All that stuff?"

"Yes."

"But that stuff's heavy, and the truck's a long way-"

"That's why I'm sending the TWO of you to get it. Now GO! I'm gonna watch these bodies."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. C'Mon, Brew!"

"Huh? Where we goin'?"

"Back to the truck. We gotta get the stuff..."

Brewster and Nate vanished into the woods. Doug listened to their shuffling, drunken footsteps until they were too far away to hear. He watched the bodies as he said he would... the girl and the woman. One of the woman's eyes was half-open, and she stared up at him with one blank, glassy orb. She still had Brewster's machete sticking out of her neck. He'd hit her good and hard, just like a man is supposed to. Damn near took her head clean off. Blood was all over her clothes. Her white... now red... blouse clung to her breasts. Doug could almost see through it.

She had been a beautiful woman before she met Brewster, but he'd fattened her up and now she was almost as much of a cow as he was. Almost. But she was still cute.

"Oh, yeah," he said suddenly. "Almost forgot."

He took his knife and sliced off a lock of hair from the woman and the girl.

"Evidence."

He stuffed the hair into his pants pocket, and then kicked the girl's body over into the closest grave. When the others got back, they'd burn the bodies and cover the remains with lye. The best hounds in the county wouldn't be able to find them. Doug returned to the woman and knelt down beside her. He closed her half-open eye, then ran his fingers down her lifeless face... across her nearly-severed neck... and over her blood soaked blouse... circling her breasts...

It would be a while before the others got back with the chemicals...

-The end of the vision was punctuated by a sudden, sharp blow to Jason's chest. Pain exploded from his already broken ribs and radiated out ward to the furthest parts of his body. He didn't even feel the kicks that followed... his mind was saturated with agony. His arms were like dead weights attached to his shoulders. Broken? Not broken? He couldn't even begin to tell. He couldn't even feel the ground beneath him, let alone his clenched fists or the gun still resting in the small of his back. All he could do was roll back and forth... side to side... trying to squirm away-

"Hey, hit 'im wit this!" said Nate. He was holding a large rock above his head.

Doug looked at the rock, then shook his head.

"I got a better idea. Get the rope... this'll be fun."

"I got it," said Brewster. He walked off

"...Donovan..." Jason moaned. "...help me..."

"Sheeeit, who's he talkin' too?" said Nate.

"He's delerious."

"What if he wuddn't alone? What if there's people out lookin' for him?"

"Then they'll be mighty disappointed when they find him. Unless we find them first, of course. Then we'll have to take care of them, too."

Jason realized that his eyes were closed, though he didn't remember closing them. Then he noticed that they'd stopped hitting him. When did that happen? Had he blacked out again?

He couldn't move. Everything hurt, and he couldn't move.

He couldn't feel his arm... but he saw it reaching around behind him. He wasn't doing it... he couldn't have forced himself to move even if he tried. His arm was moving by itself, but-

"Gotcha-"

Nate grunted as he grabbed Jason's wrist. He kicked jason in the back to roll him over, then grabbed his other arm as well. He planted his knee in the center of Jason's spine and held him down.

"Give it here..." Jason heard him say. Brewster tossed a piece of rope to Nate.

"Tie 'im up good," said Doug.

Jason's arms were trapped behind him, held there by a tight rope. Nate tied his feet as well... and then something strange happened...

They left.

Nate, Brewster, and Doug walked away, leaving Jason face-down in the dirt with arms and legs bound.

At first, Jason thought they were just leaving him to die. Then he saw the length of rope trailing off into the darkness. Then he heard car-doors slamming. The he saw the truck's brake-lights come on... and heard the heavy-duty engine rev.

"...oh, shit..."

The truck's tires threw up sprays of dirt as the vehicle took off. The rope was tied to the bumper.

"...oh, shit!"

"f we were mutilating animals," Sebastian said to the deputy. "wouldn't our clothes have blood on them?"

<<Good one, Sebastian!>>

<<Quiet, woman.>>

"Well-"

"You DID examine our clothes when you took them, didn't you?"

<<Huh?>> said Ashley. <<Sebastian... are you naked?>>

<<Yes. Aren't you?>>

<<You wish! Hooooo, this I GOTTA see!>>

The deputy looked confused for a moment... as if he were actually considering what Sebastian was saying.

"You had knives!" said Dewey. "Weapons! Hell, it was easier to take all your clothes than try to get 'em all. If you wasn't up to no good, then tell me why you had all those knives-"

"-Knives which had no blood on them. You DID examine them, didn't you?"

"-and why you attacked an officer of the LAW!"

"You pulled a gun on us," Sebastian said calmly.

"You chopped up all of Phil Goody's cattle and was trying to burn down his barn! I caught you in the act! You don't even HAVE to confess, because I SAW you!"

"You saw us doing what, exactly?" said Ashley.

"I saw you attack an officer of the goddamn LAW! Namely, ME!"

"Did we?" said Sebastian. "If we had, then you would be injured. Bleeding from gunshot wounds. But then... there aren't any wounds, are there?"

"You-"

"And just how do you intend to explain that to a court of law?"

"Your black buddy missed me-"

<<'Black Buddy',>> came Ashley's thoughts. <<What is this... the racist 'Gilligan's Island'?>>

"Anyone looking at that barn could tell where the bullets were fired... where they were aimed, and where you were standing at the time. But they couldn't explain how you managed to stay in one piece. Unless, of course, you're willing to admit to something that I think you'd rather keep secret."

Just as Sebastian expected, the brief look of fear... no, panic... returned to the deputy's face. It remained a bit longer before Dewey backed himself into a table and nearly lost his balance. Sebastian heard Ashley stifle a giggle.

"I-I ain't listening to you!" Dewey announced. He went back to the radio and pressed the call button. Then turned the volume up slightly as he spoke into the microphone. "Sheriff! Sheriff, these prisoners are startin' to talk crazy in here!"

"Dewey, what the HELL are you still doing at the station?" came a loud, angry reply. "We've got a FUGITIVE on the loose, an you're sittin' on yer ASS, yackin' with prisoners!?"

"But, I thought that maybe somebody should watch 'em... ya know?"

"They're in JAIL!"

"But-"

"They ain't GOIN' nowhere!"

"But-"

"Now GET your ass in that patrol car and help me find this black boy with the guns!"

"But-"

"NOW!"

"Yes, sir, sheriff!"

Dewey snatched his keys from the desk and headed for the door.

"Let us go, and nobody has to know about your secret," said Sebastian.

<<What secret?>>

<<I'm bluffing.>>

<<Oh.>>

"I don't know what yer talkin' about," Dewey said. Sebastian could tell he was lying... the truth was in his eyes. The boy was frightened... not of Sebastian or Ashley, but of something else.

Things were beginning to make sense now.

The deputy stormed out of the office and slammed... and locked... the door behind him.

<<Well,>> Ashley thought to Sebastian. <<That worked.>>

"Yes, it did. He's gone."

"Was that your attempt to talk us out of here?"

"Yes."

"News flash: We're still here."

"Yes. But not for long."

As the sound of a revving car engine drifted in from outsite, Sebastian began to carefully peel the bandage away from his neck and shoulder. The wound beneath was healing well, but was still quite ugly. Sebastian ignored it, and instead ripped a tiny piece of cloth from the bandage, exposing a small pocket that had been folded into the dressing. Tucked into the pocket was a set of lockpicks.

He re-covered the wound and went to work on the cell's lock. The mechanism was large and bulky... but simple. Its resistance to tampering came mostly from the size and rigidity of its components... something that was relatively easy to overcome.

"What's that noise?" said Ashley.

"I'm picking the lock," Sebastian replied.

"With what?"

"A lockpick."

"I thought you were naked. Where were you hiding lockpicks?"

"In my-"

"Nope. Never mind. I don't wanna know."

-CLUNK-

The cell's lock gave way under Sebastian's tender manipulations.

He stepped out into the room beyond open and began working on Ashley's door.

"Hey!" she protested. "You're not naked! You're wearing boxers!"

"What were you expecting?"

"Uhhh... nothing."

-CLUNK-

Ashley's cell door swung open.

"You're free," said Sebastian. "I'll need my clothes and my weapons. Then I must find Brooks."

"What happens if we run into SuperRedneck?"

"We'll avoid him until we know how to take him down. Donovan would know... if he's still available."

"What do you mean 'if he's still available'?"

"If Brooks has died-"

"Don't say that."

"Can you sense him?"

"No, but-"

"Then keep your sentimentalities to yourself," said Sebastian.

"You just can't help being an asshole, can you?"

"My clothes-" Sebastian found his clothes and weapons in a large, cardboard box in the closet. The box had the word 'Evidence' written on it. Surprisingly, the word wasn't misspelled.

Sebastian donned his pants, boots, and was just fastening his weapons-belt around his waist when the office door flew open-

WHAM!

"AHA!" Dewey's triumphant voice announced. "I KNEW IT! An escape!! Wasn't expecting me to double-back on foot, was ya!"

Sebastian yanked both his swords from the evidence box and stood defensively in front of Ashley.

"Back to your cells," said Dewey. "I'm warning you... I'm authorized to use deadly force!"

"As am I," Sebastian replied. He stared at his opponent across the pair of razor sharp blades. Sebastian was in a fighting stance... Dewey finger's fluttered above the butt of his gun. "Stay back, Ashley."

"Oh, hell," Ashley groaned.

ason tried to kick his legs free of the rope that bound him, but not only could he barely move his limbs at all. The rope drew tight and Jason was off... skidding on his chest down the dirt road. The truck started off fast... and it went faster with every second. Friction, rocks and debris literally ate the shirt off of his body in seconds.

"ARRGH!" Jason screamed. He managed to roll over onto his back, and he saw the sky streaking past overhead as the truck gained speed. The bullet-resistant lining of his coat kept the road from snatching the skin off of his back, but it wouldn't last for long.

The truck went faster.

Jason heard the men yelling and hollering in the cab. Someone... Jason couldn't tell who... stuck his fist out of the window and shook it... yelling like he was at a concert.

"WHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

"FASTER! FASTER!"

And the truck went even faster.

Jason felt his clothes tearing. He felt the heat against his skin...

"FAAASSTERRRRR!"

The truck's engine roared... coughed... sputtered... and roared again. It lunged ahead like a charging beast. The sudden acceleration had Jason literally bouncing down the road. Jason kept his head tucked forward as far as possible to avoid a cracking his skull, but aach time he hit the ground it was like being struck with a sledge hammer... over... and over...again.

"UNGH! UNGH!"

Jason landed on his buttocks... his back... his arms...

"AAARRRG!!"

The truck had to be going 40 miles per hour now. And still accelerating. Faster. The road tore strips of bloody cloth away from his sleeves and legs.

WHAM!

He felt something give in his shoulder-

WHAM!

He hit something in the road. Barely felt it. The tiniest rocks and pieces of debris were like daggers of broken glass, literally shredding him alive.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

"WHOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!"

Jason was leaving a bloody streak on the ground behind him. And the feeling returned to his arms at the worst possible time... just as the skin was being ripped off of them.

"AAAARGH!"

Jason rolled onto his side, to save his arms and back, but his hip and shoulder were being eaten away.

But that wasn't all.

Bloody, tattered hands clasped the butt of the gun in his belt. He'd forgotten it was there... but the Affinity hadn't.

"UNGH!"

He hit something else... bounced into the air and came down on his buttocks.

"ARRGH!"

The seat of his pants was gone in and instant. Jason tried to maneuver his gun, but he couldn't... his hands were tied. He could see the rope... the truck... but he couldn't see his gun. It was trapped behind his back, where he couldn't aim at anything.

To someone else, it would have been a problem.

The gun went off. Jason felt something zip down past his legs... and then the rope connecting him to the speeding truck was gone. Severed cleanly in half with one shot. Momentum sent Jason tumbling end-over-end for several yards. He rolled... tumbled... and skidded right off of the road and into a ditch. His speeding body bounced OUT of the ditch and rolled down a hill...gaining speed all the way... until he hit a tree.

That stopped him.

Jason was amazed. Not that he had made the shot... not that he still had the .45 semiautomatic clenched in his bound hands... but at the fact that he was still conscious.

The pain was like a miniature sun trying to burn its way out of his brain from the inside.

Then it got worse.

He felt like...

...like he'd just been dragged behind a truck and rolled down a hill onto an oak tree. Yes, that's exactly what it felt like.

"...Donovan... Donovan please help me..."

"HHHHEEEEEYY!" Came a shout from the road above him.

"I'll be DAMNED!" Nate's voice squealed. "HE GOT AWAY!"

Jason heard Doug's voice, but couldn't make out the words.

There was silence for a few moments. Then the sound of truck doors slamming, and an engine revving.

The truck pulled off of the road and started down the hill towards him, slowly bouncing across the rough landscape.

They were coming after him.

Squinting against the pain, Jason wiggled around until his legs were just right-

BLAM!

The gun went off, and the rope binding his ankles fell away. Then he twisted the weapon at an odd angle, holding it with one hand, aiming it along his forearm-

BLAM!

The muzzle flare was like a shovel-full of red-hot coals being dumped over his hands. But the rope was gone.

The truck was still coming.

Jason tried to stand, but couldn't. Too much pain. Too many injuries. He couldn't run. Or walk. Crawling was only a slim possibility.

The engine got louder. The truck veered toward his position.

Jason checked his gun.

Five rounds left.

"Plenty," said Jason as he crawled further into the woods. "...bring it on..."

[To Be Continued]

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment