2019-10-01 - You Don't Need Me

The first sensation that Easton notices is that for once he's not burning up. There is a cool breeze blowing across his nearly naked frame in the darkness. Slowly his eyes begin to make out shapes and he's indeed in a forest, not one local to Gray Harbor though, this is a true New England forest. There aren't as many pines and the undergrowth is much denser.

The breeze Easton realizes feels so cool because his skin is still damp with sweat. He's dressed in just a tiny pair of PT shorts the Marines lovingly call silkies or ranger panties. He thankfully has his leg on but is barefoot, and very aware of the uneven ground covered in fallen branches and various flora. He can't tell if it's the setting, his lack of appropriate clothing or something else but something is setting off warning bells.

His ability to locate a door normally serves him well in these places ever since he's figured out how to use that. But with the flu still in full effect that isn't an option right now. He can't feel the objects around him as usual, so looks like he needs to this the old fashioned way, namely wandering around aimlessly until he falls back into reality. As he walks Easton swears that he can hear something or someone else in the woods. An extra crack of a branch that wasn't from him, a rustle of a branch not in time with the breeze. But maddeningly he can't see or feel anything out there.

After an hour or so of walking, already scraped up and scratched, with a sore foot and an angry left leg Easton finally gets a glimpse of someone else up ahead. He holds back on his first inclination to call out to what looked like a tall figure of a man walking down a trail. But he's thankful for a trail non-the-less.

That gratitude is quickly erases by a snuffing sound. It's immediately clear that there is some animal, some large animal in the woods around him. The hairs on the back of his neck, wet with sweat still lift up as he tries to get an exact location of what this animal is or where that figure up ahead went. Deciding that whatever the animal is it's behind him, he tries to run as best he can on the uneven trail with his barefoot and prosthesis. The pounding of his leg into the socket sends shocks of pain through him but he can't slow down. He can feel more than hear or see that whatever is behind him is gaining on him. Rounding a corner he sees the man from earlier, sitting on a rock and he has the oddest sense he's waiting for him.

"Banks?"

Easton barely has time to get the name out before he feels the deep raking of claws across his back and the weight of something much larger than him pinning him to the ground. He tries to cry out for help or in anger or surprise but slamming into the ground chest first denies any meaningful noise. With maximum effort he manages to roll out from under the beast which he can now see clearly for the first time. And it's shape is familiar if not exactly comforting. It's lupine in nature, but much too large for a gray wolf. The fact the it stands up on it's hind legs like a man also strikes out any natural wolf. It's a werewolf dripping in shadows as if made of liquid darkness. Of course it is.

Easton scrambles to get the knife from it's holster on his fake leg. An action he should have down but between the massive slash wound on his back and the fever weakness he struggles to free the weapon. Meanwhile his mind catches up to yell at Tom, "Why the fuck aren't you helping? Kill it! Shoot the damn thing! Help me!"

Tom meanwhile watches impassively as the beast turns and lunges again for Easton, seeking to pin his shoulders to the ground and snap at his neck. Managing to get the knife up in time Easton gets in a slash of his own that sends the werewolf tumbling away and growling in anger. Tom continues to sit and watch, now taking the time to light a cigarette.

Easton tries to scramble to his feet and manages to make it up but is looking mightily unsteady. He screams now at Tom, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Dammit help me!"

Tom looks at him, doesn't say a word before looking at something over Easton's shoulder with mild interest.

That is the only indication Easton has that he's not just facing a single mythical beast. The teeth dig easily into the meat of his shoulder as the second werewolf, equally dark, takes him down rolling with his upper torso still clamped in his jaw. Having to transfer the knife to his other weaker hand to stab at this second wolf, thankfully he's able to at least get it to release it. Unfortunately for Easton the tumble has take his faux leg clear off. The second beast and the first now are both injured but begin to circle.

Easton looks at the beast, looks at Tom, calmly watching, and closes his eyes, grits his teeth and wills this damn veil flu to shut the hell up and let him do this. And with a flicker, then a burst of brilliance his knife lights up the forest as if it were daytime. The wolves howl and dissipate into the forest like smoke that seeks out the shadows made by the light. With that bit of energy spent Easton collapses back on to his back his leg feet away. He has enough energy to turn to look at Tom, his face questioning his betrayal by inaction.

"I know you decided you don't need me anymore."

Tom's words echo in his ears as Easton awakes, covered in blood and deep gashes in his bed. His knife is still in his hand, his prosthetic leg laying on the rug a few feet from the bed. He's breathing hard from the shock and the exertion. And as he considers Tom's words, for the first time in a long time he finds tears running down his cheeks.