Stay in the Light - Chapter 4
AUTHOR:Scullspeare
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 3 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 4
Sam had passed out at some point, and when he came to, the spirits were back.
A blast of wind howling through the tunnel, the same tunnel Dean had disappeared down just minutes-or was it hours?-ago announced their arrival.
As the wind disappeared, the mine filled with the creaks and groans of old timber mixed with the squeak of metal. Sam opened his eyes to see the light swinging wildly around him. His gaze snapped upwards and he watched helplessly as the lantern rocked back and forth on the bent nail in the beam above him, slowly, gradually inching its way off.
The gust of wind had also obliterated the salt line Dean had laid down across the tunnel, the advance guard of Sam's defenses. Now, the dead miners were targeting the lantern that provided his protective cocoon of light.
Sam's breathing had been tight before the spirits returned. Now, his rapid, shallow breaths were making him lightheaded. He forced himself to calm down. Dean would be back with help soon; he just had to hold on until then.
He could barely move, let alone fight these spirits, but there was one thing he could do. Dean would laugh at him for trying, but he could talk to them.
"Listen. I know who you are." Sam's voice was raw, muffled behind his mask and lacking its usual power. He cleared his throat. "What happened to you, it's not right. You should never have been left behind. Should never have been sealed in here."
The wind died down suddenly, the squeak of the lantern rocking back and forth on the nail the only sound breaking the silence.
Sam squinted into the darkness beyond the lantern's light. "If you let us, we can help you…help you leave this place." He thought it best to leave out where they might be going to.
"No one escapes this mine." As the lantern stilled, a deep, rumbling laughter took the place of the metallic squeak. "Besides, no one wants to help a freak."
"That's not true." Sam swallowed. "Trust me, I know what it's like to be…to be different."
"Do you?" This was a second voice, slightly higher pitched and carrying a century and a half of bitterness. "Do you know what it's like to be left in the dark for days, for weeks…. To be forced to eat vermin and insects…. To finally grow so hungry, so desperate to survive, you'd lower yourself to eating the bodies of men you used to work side by side with, knowing full well God will never forgive you for it? That you'll never forgive yourself?"
A chill ran through Sam and his stomach lurched. That guilt, warped and magnified over time, was at the root of much of these spirits' fury. "No. No one will ever truly understand what you went through in this mine. But killing innocent people isn't the answer."
"Innocent?" It was the first voice again, now full of scorn. "Not one of the lives we've taken was innocent. In any way."
"We took an oath when we started in this mine." This was a third voice, deep and lilting with the hint of an accent, most likely Welsh. "That we'd always have each other's back. They broke that promise once when they abandoned us. Broke it again when they shunned us for being…different."
The tunnel filled with the cruel laughter of the first spirit. "Then they hunted us for being monsters they themselves created."
"They were wrong." Sam's voice was quiet. "But when the rescue was called off, the Union Army was advancing and they were ordered to leave. They had no way of knowing you were still alive. If they had…." He shook his head. "I'm sure they would have disobeyed orders to stay and get you out. They were your friends."
All three spirits laughed at that, and the quiet, mirthless laughter made Sam's blood run cold.
"Yes. Such good friends that when we finally crawled out of this hell and made our way home, they chased us away…from our families, from our lives…."
"Told us we were abominations, an affront to God himself. Then sealed us back in the very mine that turned us into the monsters we are."
Sam caught a glimpse of this miner in the shadows to his left as the spirit moved closer.
That spirit smiled coldly. "And soon you'll know what it's like. We'll wait, and we'll watch as hunger and madness consume you. And only then, right before the end, will you truly understand what we went through."
A short blast of wind punched through the tunnel, finally succeeding in knocking the lantern from its perch above Sam. His eyes widened as it fell, seemingly in slow motion. It shattered as it hit the ground, its light extinguished, plunging most of the tunnel into darkness. The only illumination left was from Sam's helmet lamp and the two battery-powered lights Dean had wedged into the rocks on either side of him.
Sam's breathing sped up, his shallow exhales audible in the eerie silence. He turned his head slowly, seeing the spirits shield their eyes and back up each time they were hit with the light from his helmet lamp. "Look, what happened to you wasn't right, but what you're doing isn't right either. These people you're killing, they're not responsible for your deaths."
"Yes, they are."
"No, they're not." Sam swallowed. He knew that spirits were often unaware of the passage of time, that what seemed like days to them was often centuries. "You died more than a hundred and fifty years ago. The men who abandoned you, who sealed you in here, they're long dead, likely paying for what they did in their own special hell right now."
"A hundred and fifty years..." This was from the deep-voiced miner who suddenly seemed a lot less sure of himself.
Sam nodded slowly, wincing as the movement amped up his headache. "Yes. The men coming into these mines, those you've been attacking on South Mountain, they're relatives of the men who hunted you but they're four or five generations removed. You can't punish them for something their ancestors did long before they were born."
There was a soft chuckle from the Welsh-accented spirit. "Then we should punish them for abandoning you. Your partner is gone. He left you here to die. If what you say is true, if all these years have passed, then men have still learned little. You don't abandon your brothers when they're in trouble."
Sam was fighting to hold back his anger. "No one abandoned me. Dean…. He'll be back."
"No, he won't. He's dead."
The crushing pressure now across Sam's chest had nothing to do with the weight resting on it. He glared at the voice in the dark. "No. You're lying."
"He fell."
That devastating statement, flat and matter-of-fact, came from his right. Sam's head snapped around, just in time to see the light wedged in the rocks there go flying and the spirit beside it vanish.
A different voice came from his left as that light, too, was knocked aside. "We followed him. He thought he could escape, but he didn't. He climbed and he fell. No one escapes this mine."
"That's not true." Sam was fighting the need to throw up. "That's not true." He grunted when a blow to the side of the head knocked off his helmet and sent it tumbling down the rock pile where it swung back and forth from the cable attaching it to the light's battery pack.
As the light pendulumed through the tunnel, he caught glimpses of the three spirits staring at him, until something behind them caught their attention.
Simultaneously, all three snapped their heads around to stare up the tunnel. Sam had no idea what they were seeing or hearing; he saw and heard nothing. Two of the spirits flickered and vanished, while the third vanished then reappeared briefly at his side - just long enough to grab the cable from his helmet and yank it from the battery pack, plunging the tunnel into total darkness.
Sam shuddered as the deep-voiced spirit whispered in his ear. "No one escapes. No one."
xxxXXXxxx
Dean was floating. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the sky, the small patch of gray above him getting closer and closer.
Why the hell was he floating? He frowned, swaying gently in the air currents as they lifted him even higher.
He vaguely remembered trying to climb out of the mine and then falling, and then…. Son of a bitch. He was dead. The fall had done him in.
He'd visualized all sorts of ways of dying-kinda came with the job-and, once in a while, he'd even thought about what might happen after he died. But this? This sure as hell wasn't it. Floating gently up into the Great Beyond? That was way too Hallmark for a Winchester. Not to mention, he'd never been totally convinced that, when his time came, he'd be riding the Up elevator.
There was a metal clang and the back of his head hit something hard when he was jostled from side-to-side. He grunted because, damn it, it hurt-and that just seemed…wrong. If a chubby angel in a diaper was driving this bus, he needed his freaking license revoked.
"Son of a bitch, keep it straight. Doesn't this god damn thing move any faster?"
Okay. Dean's frown deepened as the gruff male voice cut through the Category Five migraine building inside his head. Cherubs cussed a little more than he expected, too.
His stomach lurched when he started to slowly spin around, and then rocked violently for a moment.
"Keep it steady, keep it steady…. Swing it this way, bit more, bit more. And…stop…. Now down, down…. Hold it. That's good. We got him. Let's get him out."
Suddenly, there were dark shapes all around him, lifting him up, jostling him around for a few moments, and then lowering him down. He couldn't see the sky anymore, wasn't floating anymore. There was solid ground beneath him. "Guess you guys figured out I was on the wrong bus, huh?" he mumbled. He wanted to laugh, but his stomach had other ideas and he retched violently.
The dark shapes were back. "Quick, let's roll him."
Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, hips, and legs, rolling him onto his side. Just in time, too. He was pretty sure he threw up everything he'd eaten since entering the state of Tennessee three days earlier, and most of the roadside diner chow from the drive through Kentucky before that. Dry heaves followed before he was gently rolled onto his back, exhausted, breathing heavily and feeling like his head was about to explode.
He zoned out for a bit, coming back to awareness when a cool cloth was gently wiped over his mouth, face, and neck.
"Relax. You're safe now. We're gonna take care of you."
The last voice was a woman's, and she sounded hot. Dean pulled his eyes open, blinking to force them to focus, something so far they'd stubbornly refused to do.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm gonna put a mask over your face. Don't fight it. Just relax and breathe deeply."
Mask? Dean squeezed his eyes closed again and, this time, when he opened them, his vision slid into focus. The woman leaning over him had long reddish-brown hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, blue eyes, and the kind of smile that could suck him in from the far side of a crowded bar. The blue jacket and stethoscope around her neck threw him though. "You're no angel."
She laughed. "No, a few too many sins on my résumé for that job." She pressed a plastic mask over Dean's mouth and nose, looping the strap behind his head, and gently pulled his hand away when he reached up reflexively to pull it off. "No. Keep that on. We need to get your oxygen levels back up."
Dean frowned. Okay. He wasn't dead. If they were trying to fix his breathing, he wasn't en route to Heaven or Hell. That was a plus. But then where was he? As his vision cleared a bit more, he watched the angel - the paramedic - swab the inside of his elbow and then insert a needle into the vein there.
Her smile returned when she saw him watching her work. "I'm guessing you're feeling kinda crappy right now, huh? Head like you've been on a three-day bender?"
"Five days," Dean mumbled from behind the mask. "Minimum."
"Ouch." The paramedic nodded in sympathy. "That's methane for you. Chews up all the oxygen in your system, dehydrating you, messing with your head and giving you a killer headache in the process." She shook her head as she taped the needle in place on his arm. "In a mining town, we deal with it far more than we like, but," her smile returned as she unfolded a length of tubing and inserted the needle at one end into an IV bag of clear liquid and the needle at the other into the catheter in Dean's arm, "it also means we're really good at treating it. We'll have you feeling better in no time."
Dean rolled his head to the side and tried to take in the scene playing out before him. It took him a moment to figure things out, given he was looking at the world sideways, but he was in the woods and there were a lot of men wandering around in front of him wearing orange coveralls.
"Donna, is he awake enough that I can talk to him?"
Dean recognized the gruff male voice behind him. It was Gus, the mine foreman. He rolled his head back to see Gus standing beside the paramedic-Donna-as she emptied the contents of a syringe into Dean's IV line.
"He's in and out, but you can try."
Gus crouched down beside Dean, his ruddy face creasing with his smile. "Hey, son, you back with us?"
Dean nodded, still fighting to keep his eyes open. "M'okay."
Gus gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Look, I know first-hand what methane poisoning feels like, so I know how hard it is for you to focus right now, but we really need your help."
Dean nodded. He needed Gus's help, too, because… because…. Damn it. He screwed his eyes closed. The reason was just beyond the reach of his memory.
"We got your Mayday message. Well, parts of it, at least." Gus glanced to his right. "We thought we'd heard wrong when you told us there was a surface breach. Had no idea this was here. Must've collapsed after we drilled the vents." He turned back to Dean. "But what we never got was the location of today's cave-in. What tunnel was it, Dean? Where's Sam trapped?"
Sam.
Gus was still talking. "I've got men working with thermal imaging cameras close to your last known location, but we'll get to your brother a helluva lot faster if you can tell us…."
The fog in Dean's head lifted, shoved aside by an avalanche of images: The spirits swinging those damn pickaxes, the tunnel caving in, Sam shoving him out of the way-and Sam trapped in the rubble.
Dean's breathing escalated as he tried to untangle himself from the blanket covering him and sit up.
"Whoa. Where'd you think you're going?" Donna had her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him down.
"Let me up, damn it," Dean growled. His voice was weak but he hoped the glare that accompanied the directive showed it wasn't open for negotiation. Once upright, though, vertigo took over and he tipped sideways. He landed with his face pressed against Donna's chest. Under different circumstances, it would be a nice-very nice-place to be, but with his head clearing, all he could think about was getting Sam out of that damn mine.
Donna sat him up and Gus was back at his side. Each of them slid an arm behind Dean's back, holding him steady.
The paramedic quickly had fingers pressed to his wrist, taking his pulse. "Keep your eyes closed until the dizziness passes."
Dean did. When his head cleared and he opened his eyes, both Donna and Gus were looking at him worriedly. He waved off their concern. "I'm good. Just sat up too fast." He grabbed Gus's arm. "We need to get Sam out of there, fast."
Gus nodded. "That's the plan. Look around. That's what all these men are here for."
Dean quickly scanned his surroundings. Now that he was upright, it was a lot easier to process. The hole that led into the mine was in front of him. The miners had rigged some kind of metal framework around it, at the top of which was a winch and a cable attached to a litter. That explained his earlier floating sensation; they'd obviously lowered the litter into the mine, loaded him into it and winched him out of there.
"Dean?"
His attention snapped back to Gus.
Gus was leaning in close. "Where's Sam? What tunnel is he in?"
Dean stared at him, searching his memory. Unlike its modern counterpart, the tunnels of the old mine weren't numbered. His heart rate escalated as he tried to remember exactly where Sam was. "I can show you." He grabbed Gus's arm and started to pull himself up. "I'll know the way when I get down there."
"How 'bout you just tell me best you can." Gus gently but firmly pushed Dean back down. "You're in no shape for any more mine exploration. Did you mark the tunnels like I told you? If you did, we can just follow-"
"No." Dean glared at Gus. "You'll be going 'round in circles, wasting time when it's not safe. I'll take you to him."
"No offense, son, but most of these men…." Gus waved his arm at the miners gearing up around the site. "They've been working these mines as long as you've been alive. I've got two teams down there already, starting a grid search so-"
"No!" Dean grabbed Donna's hand as she was about to inject something else in his IV, and then turned to Gus. "You call those men and you tell them to turn on every damn light they've got with them." He swallowed. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, I know I sound crazy, but trust me when I say there is something down there that's dangerous, but it doesn't like the light.
"Please." Dean grabbed Gus's coverall sleeve. "I will try to explain once we've got Sammy out but, for now, for your men's sake, just take my word for it."
Gus hesitated, then nodded slowly. "All right, son. But I'll be looking forward to that story when everyone's safe and sound." He stood up, holding the radio to his mouth. "Dexter, Mason, I want it lit up like the Fourth of July down there. Apparently we've got some critter hiding in the tunnels and it don't like the light. And keep your eyes peeled. We've already got two men down. I don't want any more. Bailey, unload the generators. We're gonna need 'em to power the worklights when we find Sam."
Dean turned to Donna and pointed at the syringe she held. "Look, do what you want to me once we get Sam out, but I am going back in that mine even if I have to deck you and jump in without a rope." He offered an apologetic smile when he saw her shocked expression. "Call me any names you want. Hell, press charges if you need to, but that's my brother down there. It killed me to leave him alone in the first place. I am not gonna sit on my ass up here doing nothing while Gus's men search blindly. I can help, so I'm going back."
"You almost passed out just sitting up." Donna's tone was worried, not accusatory. "You really think you're up for another trek through that mine?"
Dean's jaw set stubbornly. "Doesn't matter whether I am or not. I'm going."
Gus was back at Dean's side now. He shook his head as he turned to Donna. "You wanna knock him out, I'll hold him down. Your call."
Despite his tough talk, Dean knew he was in no shape to win any fight, so he simply let his fear and worry for his brother show. "Please. I have to go."
Donna was reaching for a blood pressure cuff. "Give me five minutes to check you out properly. Any red flags, you stay put, otherwise okay. Deal?"
Dean nodded.
As Donna fastened the cuff around his arm, she glanced up at Gus. "If he goes, I go. You better find me some gear."
Dean watched as the paramedic inflated the blood pressure cuff. "When we get down there, you never mind me. You just help Sam."
Donna motioned to another paramedic standing next to an ATV with a red cross on the side, and climbing into a pair of Swancott coveralls. "That's my partner, Colin. He'll take care of Sam."
Gus frowned as he watched Donna listen to Dean's heart and lungs. "Well? We taking him with us or knocking him out?"
Donna hooked her stethoscope around her neck. "His vitals have improved but they're a long way from great." She smiled sympathetically at Dean. "But I've got a kid brother and I know how I'd feel if he was in trouble." She turned to Gus. "Let's get suited up."
xxxXXXxxx
Dean was back in the tunnel and standing, but it was taking a concerted effort to stay that way. He'd almost toppled over once already, simply reaching down to grab the air rifle he'd abandoned at the base of the rubble pile. The fact he was still upright was thanks to Donna grabbing the back of his jacket and locking an arm around his waist.
He nodded his thanks to the paramedic. "M'okay."
Donna relaxed her hold, once she was sure Dean was steady. Like Gus, her attention was locked on the gun Dean held.
"Look, I told you there's something down here, something nasty. If we run into it, this'll get rid of it without blowing us all up. You just gotta trust me on that." Dean turned and stared at the tunnel ahead. Thanks to Donna's care on the surface and the breathing mask he now wore, his head was a lot clearer than when he'd stumbled through the tunnels trying to get out. He closed his eyes and remembered Sam dragging his finger in a double dogleg along the map Gus had given them. He motioned ahead and took a shaky step forward. "Sam's this way."
"Hold up there, son." Gus grabbed his arm. "The two teams I've already got down here are on their way back, and if you want this place lit up like a night game at Yankee Stadium, we need the generators that are coming down now."
"But-"
"But nothing." Gus's voice was stern. "The safety of every man and woman down here is on me. We're gonna get your brother out, but we're gonna make sure we have everything to do it the right way."
It only took another five minutes to get the generators, and medical and rescue equipment down into the mine, and the other two teams to meet up with them, but to Dean it seemed liked hours. He was chomping at the bit by the time Gus gave him a nod, and he stumbled off down the tunnel.
They were a big group. Fifteen, according to the quick head count Dean had done just before they set off down the tunnel. And a big group made for an easy target if the spirits decided to play dirty, but they'd cross that bridge if they had to. The priority right now was Sam.
His brother had been alone in the mine for hours, and the knot in Dean's gut over having to leave him was getting larger with every passing minute. Sam had been in rough shape when he'd left and all this time spent stuck under the rubble, his air supply negligible, wasn't making him any better. And if the spirits had shown their ugly mugs again….
Dean stumbled when he tried to pick up the pace.
"Whoa, there." Donna's arm was back around his waist. "Slow and steady. That'll get you across the finish line."
Dean's jaw clenched but he kept pushing forward. The mine seemed to go on forever. Every time he turned a corner, he expected to see the lantern hanging from the beam, to see the rubble pile holding his brother captive, but every tunnel was empty. Doubt was creeping in, rapidly convincing him that he'd made a wrong turn, that he'd gotten the whole freaking rescue party lost until he turned one last corner.
This was tunnel. The cave-in was at the end of it.
But something was off. There was no light.
"Sammy!" Dean shook off Donna's support and launched into a stumbling run, his heart pounding not from exertion but from fear over what he might find. As the beam from his helmet lamp fell on the rock pile, his heart beat even faster.
Sam's head was tilted back and to the side, his breathing mask discarded. As Dean got close enough, it was quickly apparent that his brother's eyes were closed. His gaze traveled from the smashed lantern on the tunnel floor in front of the cave-in, to Sam's helmet on the ground, its light extinguished, too. Something had gone down.
"Sam?" Dean dropped to his knees, not entirely by choice, and grabbed his brother's arm. It took a moment to shove the coverall sleeve out of the way but he exhaled audibly when he found a slow pulse. "He's alive. He's still alive."
"Good. Then let's keep him that way." Donna had her hands on Dean's shoulders, gently trying to move him out of the way. "Dean, please. Give us room to work."
Dean nodded, but needed Donna's help to get back to his feet and move off to the side. There, he slid down the wall and sat on the ground, facing Sam. He waved off the paramedic's attempts to help. "M'fine. Go take care of Sammy."
It took another firm, "Go!" to convince her, but Donna nodded and quickly moved over to Sam.
The paramedics knelt either side of Sam. Colin quickly placed an oxygen mask over Sam's mouth and nose before checking his pupil response. Donna was cutting through the sleeve of Sam's coveralls, preparing to check his blood pressure and start an IV.
Beside the medics, two engineers were studying the rubble Sam was trapped under, working out the best-and safest-way to free him.
The hum of a generator filled Dean's ears a second before the tunnel was flooded with light. Dean screwed his eyes shut, then shielded them with his hand as he opened them slowly, giving them time to adjust to the sudden brilliant light. Shadows of the miners, dancing across the walls as they worked, disappeared a few seconds later as a second light on the opposite side of the tunnel was attached to the generator.
Dean nodded in approval. If the light hurt his eyes, no damn way were the spirits getting near them. His grip on his gun relaxed and he turned his attention back to Sam.
xxxXXXxxx
Sam came to with a start, his eyes slamming shut almost as soon as he opened them because the light was so bright.
"Relax. You're gonna be okay." The voice was female and judging by the gentle touch, so was the hand gripping his arm reassuringly. "Keep your eyes closed if the light hurts them. You've been down here a while so it might take a bit to get used to it. But we're gonna take good care of you and we're gonna get you out."
Sam shook his head. He didn't care if the light hurt; he'd been in the dark too damn long. He squinted at first, then slowly forced his eyes open. The light made them water, which made his vision blurry but, even with everything out of focus, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The tunnel was full of people dressed in Swancott orange coveralls. Two men to his right were placing some kind of hydraulic jack under the beam pinning him. Others were pulling rubble from around him. He must've been out for some time because the rescue effort was well under way.
He grabbed for the female paramedic's arm, trying to get his voice to work but she seemed to read his mind.
"The guy you have to thank for all this is over there." She gestured to Sam's left.
Sam rolled his head to the side and his eyes widened. Through all the miners milling about, he caught sight of Dean slumped against the tunnel wall. His brother had looked better when he'd rolled in from a bar after an all-night bender, but he most definitely wasn't dead.
Dean smiled tiredly, pushed himself up with a groan and staggered over to Sam. Between the paramedics and the engineers, he couldn't get closer than a few feet so he gave a small wave. "Told you I'd be back. Brought a few friends with me."
Sam stared up at Dean. "You look like crap."
Dean snorted. "Most folks would just say thank you. And by the way, you're not looking so hot, yourself."
Sam felt sick. "They said you were dead."
"Who did?" That question was from the male paramedic.
The flash of anger across Dean's face told Sam his brother knew exactly who he was talking about.
"You were dreaming, Sammy. I'm fine." Dean opened his arms wide in a look-at-me gesture, and almost overbalanced.
"Fine's a bit of stretch. You need to sit down." The female paramedic was on her feet quickly and guiding Dean to the side of the tunnel. She glanced back at Sam. "Your brother had a close call. He'll be fine, as long as he takes it easy for a bit."
Dean scowled as the paramedic steadied him as he slid down the wall to sit on the tunnel floor again. "Sam, this is Donna. As you may have noticed, she's kinda bossy."
"Sound like you two have a lot in common." Sam snorted softly, which started him coughing.
"Sam, I'm Colin." This was the male paramedic talking to him. "Let's keep the talking to a minimum for now, okay? We're gonna be ready to move you soon but I need to ask you a few questions first. Just nod, shake your head or stick to one-word answers when you can, alright?"
Sam screwed his eyes closed as he turned toward Colin, the lights and the noise around him suddenly overwhelming. The paramedic's words were distorted and unintelligible. He felt himself falling….
"Hey! Sam! Stay with me."
"Yeah." Sam blinked and Colin's worried face came into focus, the noise around him dropping back to normal levels. He swallowed. "Still here."
"Good. You have a headache?"
Sam gave a slight nod.
"What about pain elsewhere? Your left arm?"
Sam shrugged. "Feels…pinched."
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Two-ish."
"What about your legs?"
Sam swallowed. "Sometimes numb, sometimes six or seven."
"Okay." Colin emptied the contents of a syringe into Sam's IV. "Any chest pain? Difficulty breathing?"
Sam gave a slight shrug.
"Back pain?"
Sam glanced down at his right arm which now bore a blood pressure cuff, the IV at his elbow, and a pulse oximeter clip on his finger. "You're worried about crush injuries, right?"
Colin glanced up as he worked. "You've been stuck in here a long time. We have to be cautious. But, right now, your blood pressure's good. We've got you started on fluids and a drug that should help keep things in check when we pull all this crap off you." He offered a small smile as he attached leads from the heart monitor to Sam's chest. "Let's not borrow trouble, huh? We'll get you out, then we'll see what's what."
At that moment, Gus clapped a hand on Colin's shoulder. "We're ready whenever you are. Just give us the word."
Colin nodded as he stood up. "He's set."
Gus returned the nod, then turned to his crew, "Okay, people. Let's do this."
To be continued...
To Chapter 5
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 3 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 4
Sam had passed out at some point, and when he came to, the spirits were back.
A blast of wind howling through the tunnel, the same tunnel Dean had disappeared down just minutes-or was it hours?-ago announced their arrival.
As the wind disappeared, the mine filled with the creaks and groans of old timber mixed with the squeak of metal. Sam opened his eyes to see the light swinging wildly around him. His gaze snapped upwards and he watched helplessly as the lantern rocked back and forth on the bent nail in the beam above him, slowly, gradually inching its way off.
The gust of wind had also obliterated the salt line Dean had laid down across the tunnel, the advance guard of Sam's defenses. Now, the dead miners were targeting the lantern that provided his protective cocoon of light.
Sam's breathing had been tight before the spirits returned. Now, his rapid, shallow breaths were making him lightheaded. He forced himself to calm down. Dean would be back with help soon; he just had to hold on until then.
He could barely move, let alone fight these spirits, but there was one thing he could do. Dean would laugh at him for trying, but he could talk to them.
"Listen. I know who you are." Sam's voice was raw, muffled behind his mask and lacking its usual power. He cleared his throat. "What happened to you, it's not right. You should never have been left behind. Should never have been sealed in here."
The wind died down suddenly, the squeak of the lantern rocking back and forth on the nail the only sound breaking the silence.
Sam squinted into the darkness beyond the lantern's light. "If you let us, we can help you…help you leave this place." He thought it best to leave out where they might be going to.
"No one escapes this mine." As the lantern stilled, a deep, rumbling laughter took the place of the metallic squeak. "Besides, no one wants to help a freak."
"That's not true." Sam swallowed. "Trust me, I know what it's like to be…to be different."
"Do you?" This was a second voice, slightly higher pitched and carrying a century and a half of bitterness. "Do you know what it's like to be left in the dark for days, for weeks…. To be forced to eat vermin and insects…. To finally grow so hungry, so desperate to survive, you'd lower yourself to eating the bodies of men you used to work side by side with, knowing full well God will never forgive you for it? That you'll never forgive yourself?"
A chill ran through Sam and his stomach lurched. That guilt, warped and magnified over time, was at the root of much of these spirits' fury. "No. No one will ever truly understand what you went through in this mine. But killing innocent people isn't the answer."
"Innocent?" It was the first voice again, now full of scorn. "Not one of the lives we've taken was innocent. In any way."
"We took an oath when we started in this mine." This was a third voice, deep and lilting with the hint of an accent, most likely Welsh. "That we'd always have each other's back. They broke that promise once when they abandoned us. Broke it again when they shunned us for being…different."
The tunnel filled with the cruel laughter of the first spirit. "Then they hunted us for being monsters they themselves created."
"They were wrong." Sam's voice was quiet. "But when the rescue was called off, the Union Army was advancing and they were ordered to leave. They had no way of knowing you were still alive. If they had…." He shook his head. "I'm sure they would have disobeyed orders to stay and get you out. They were your friends."
All three spirits laughed at that, and the quiet, mirthless laughter made Sam's blood run cold.
"Yes. Such good friends that when we finally crawled out of this hell and made our way home, they chased us away…from our families, from our lives…."
"Told us we were abominations, an affront to God himself. Then sealed us back in the very mine that turned us into the monsters we are."
Sam caught a glimpse of this miner in the shadows to his left as the spirit moved closer.
That spirit smiled coldly. "And soon you'll know what it's like. We'll wait, and we'll watch as hunger and madness consume you. And only then, right before the end, will you truly understand what we went through."
A short blast of wind punched through the tunnel, finally succeeding in knocking the lantern from its perch above Sam. His eyes widened as it fell, seemingly in slow motion. It shattered as it hit the ground, its light extinguished, plunging most of the tunnel into darkness. The only illumination left was from Sam's helmet lamp and the two battery-powered lights Dean had wedged into the rocks on either side of him.
Sam's breathing sped up, his shallow exhales audible in the eerie silence. He turned his head slowly, seeing the spirits shield their eyes and back up each time they were hit with the light from his helmet lamp. "Look, what happened to you wasn't right, but what you're doing isn't right either. These people you're killing, they're not responsible for your deaths."
"Yes, they are."
"No, they're not." Sam swallowed. He knew that spirits were often unaware of the passage of time, that what seemed like days to them was often centuries. "You died more than a hundred and fifty years ago. The men who abandoned you, who sealed you in here, they're long dead, likely paying for what they did in their own special hell right now."
"A hundred and fifty years..." This was from the deep-voiced miner who suddenly seemed a lot less sure of himself.
Sam nodded slowly, wincing as the movement amped up his headache. "Yes. The men coming into these mines, those you've been attacking on South Mountain, they're relatives of the men who hunted you but they're four or five generations removed. You can't punish them for something their ancestors did long before they were born."
There was a soft chuckle from the Welsh-accented spirit. "Then we should punish them for abandoning you. Your partner is gone. He left you here to die. If what you say is true, if all these years have passed, then men have still learned little. You don't abandon your brothers when they're in trouble."
Sam was fighting to hold back his anger. "No one abandoned me. Dean…. He'll be back."
"No, he won't. He's dead."
The crushing pressure now across Sam's chest had nothing to do with the weight resting on it. He glared at the voice in the dark. "No. You're lying."
"He fell."
That devastating statement, flat and matter-of-fact, came from his right. Sam's head snapped around, just in time to see the light wedged in the rocks there go flying and the spirit beside it vanish.
A different voice came from his left as that light, too, was knocked aside. "We followed him. He thought he could escape, but he didn't. He climbed and he fell. No one escapes this mine."
"That's not true." Sam was fighting the need to throw up. "That's not true." He grunted when a blow to the side of the head knocked off his helmet and sent it tumbling down the rock pile where it swung back and forth from the cable attaching it to the light's battery pack.
As the light pendulumed through the tunnel, he caught glimpses of the three spirits staring at him, until something behind them caught their attention.
Simultaneously, all three snapped their heads around to stare up the tunnel. Sam had no idea what they were seeing or hearing; he saw and heard nothing. Two of the spirits flickered and vanished, while the third vanished then reappeared briefly at his side - just long enough to grab the cable from his helmet and yank it from the battery pack, plunging the tunnel into total darkness.
Sam shuddered as the deep-voiced spirit whispered in his ear. "No one escapes. No one."
xxxXXXxxx
Dean was floating. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the sky, the small patch of gray above him getting closer and closer.
Why the hell was he floating? He frowned, swaying gently in the air currents as they lifted him even higher.
He vaguely remembered trying to climb out of the mine and then falling, and then…. Son of a bitch. He was dead. The fall had done him in.
He'd visualized all sorts of ways of dying-kinda came with the job-and, once in a while, he'd even thought about what might happen after he died. But this? This sure as hell wasn't it. Floating gently up into the Great Beyond? That was way too Hallmark for a Winchester. Not to mention, he'd never been totally convinced that, when his time came, he'd be riding the Up elevator.
There was a metal clang and the back of his head hit something hard when he was jostled from side-to-side. He grunted because, damn it, it hurt-and that just seemed…wrong. If a chubby angel in a diaper was driving this bus, he needed his freaking license revoked.
"Son of a bitch, keep it straight. Doesn't this god damn thing move any faster?"
Okay. Dean's frown deepened as the gruff male voice cut through the Category Five migraine building inside his head. Cherubs cussed a little more than he expected, too.
His stomach lurched when he started to slowly spin around, and then rocked violently for a moment.
"Keep it steady, keep it steady…. Swing it this way, bit more, bit more. And…stop…. Now down, down…. Hold it. That's good. We got him. Let's get him out."
Suddenly, there were dark shapes all around him, lifting him up, jostling him around for a few moments, and then lowering him down. He couldn't see the sky anymore, wasn't floating anymore. There was solid ground beneath him. "Guess you guys figured out I was on the wrong bus, huh?" he mumbled. He wanted to laugh, but his stomach had other ideas and he retched violently.
The dark shapes were back. "Quick, let's roll him."
Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, hips, and legs, rolling him onto his side. Just in time, too. He was pretty sure he threw up everything he'd eaten since entering the state of Tennessee three days earlier, and most of the roadside diner chow from the drive through Kentucky before that. Dry heaves followed before he was gently rolled onto his back, exhausted, breathing heavily and feeling like his head was about to explode.
He zoned out for a bit, coming back to awareness when a cool cloth was gently wiped over his mouth, face, and neck.
"Relax. You're safe now. We're gonna take care of you."
The last voice was a woman's, and she sounded hot. Dean pulled his eyes open, blinking to force them to focus, something so far they'd stubbornly refused to do.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm gonna put a mask over your face. Don't fight it. Just relax and breathe deeply."
Mask? Dean squeezed his eyes closed again and, this time, when he opened them, his vision slid into focus. The woman leaning over him had long reddish-brown hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, blue eyes, and the kind of smile that could suck him in from the far side of a crowded bar. The blue jacket and stethoscope around her neck threw him though. "You're no angel."
She laughed. "No, a few too many sins on my résumé for that job." She pressed a plastic mask over Dean's mouth and nose, looping the strap behind his head, and gently pulled his hand away when he reached up reflexively to pull it off. "No. Keep that on. We need to get your oxygen levels back up."
Dean frowned. Okay. He wasn't dead. If they were trying to fix his breathing, he wasn't en route to Heaven or Hell. That was a plus. But then where was he? As his vision cleared a bit more, he watched the angel - the paramedic - swab the inside of his elbow and then insert a needle into the vein there.
Her smile returned when she saw him watching her work. "I'm guessing you're feeling kinda crappy right now, huh? Head like you've been on a three-day bender?"
"Five days," Dean mumbled from behind the mask. "Minimum."
"Ouch." The paramedic nodded in sympathy. "That's methane for you. Chews up all the oxygen in your system, dehydrating you, messing with your head and giving you a killer headache in the process." She shook her head as she taped the needle in place on his arm. "In a mining town, we deal with it far more than we like, but," her smile returned as she unfolded a length of tubing and inserted the needle at one end into an IV bag of clear liquid and the needle at the other into the catheter in Dean's arm, "it also means we're really good at treating it. We'll have you feeling better in no time."
Dean rolled his head to the side and tried to take in the scene playing out before him. It took him a moment to figure things out, given he was looking at the world sideways, but he was in the woods and there were a lot of men wandering around in front of him wearing orange coveralls.
"Donna, is he awake enough that I can talk to him?"
Dean recognized the gruff male voice behind him. It was Gus, the mine foreman. He rolled his head back to see Gus standing beside the paramedic-Donna-as she emptied the contents of a syringe into Dean's IV line.
"He's in and out, but you can try."
Gus crouched down beside Dean, his ruddy face creasing with his smile. "Hey, son, you back with us?"
Dean nodded, still fighting to keep his eyes open. "M'okay."
Gus gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Look, I know first-hand what methane poisoning feels like, so I know how hard it is for you to focus right now, but we really need your help."
Dean nodded. He needed Gus's help, too, because… because…. Damn it. He screwed his eyes closed. The reason was just beyond the reach of his memory.
"We got your Mayday message. Well, parts of it, at least." Gus glanced to his right. "We thought we'd heard wrong when you told us there was a surface breach. Had no idea this was here. Must've collapsed after we drilled the vents." He turned back to Dean. "But what we never got was the location of today's cave-in. What tunnel was it, Dean? Where's Sam trapped?"
Sam.
Gus was still talking. "I've got men working with thermal imaging cameras close to your last known location, but we'll get to your brother a helluva lot faster if you can tell us…."
The fog in Dean's head lifted, shoved aside by an avalanche of images: The spirits swinging those damn pickaxes, the tunnel caving in, Sam shoving him out of the way-and Sam trapped in the rubble.
Dean's breathing escalated as he tried to untangle himself from the blanket covering him and sit up.
"Whoa. Where'd you think you're going?" Donna had her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him down.
"Let me up, damn it," Dean growled. His voice was weak but he hoped the glare that accompanied the directive showed it wasn't open for negotiation. Once upright, though, vertigo took over and he tipped sideways. He landed with his face pressed against Donna's chest. Under different circumstances, it would be a nice-very nice-place to be, but with his head clearing, all he could think about was getting Sam out of that damn mine.
Donna sat him up and Gus was back at his side. Each of them slid an arm behind Dean's back, holding him steady.
The paramedic quickly had fingers pressed to his wrist, taking his pulse. "Keep your eyes closed until the dizziness passes."
Dean did. When his head cleared and he opened his eyes, both Donna and Gus were looking at him worriedly. He waved off their concern. "I'm good. Just sat up too fast." He grabbed Gus's arm. "We need to get Sam out of there, fast."
Gus nodded. "That's the plan. Look around. That's what all these men are here for."
Dean quickly scanned his surroundings. Now that he was upright, it was a lot easier to process. The hole that led into the mine was in front of him. The miners had rigged some kind of metal framework around it, at the top of which was a winch and a cable attached to a litter. That explained his earlier floating sensation; they'd obviously lowered the litter into the mine, loaded him into it and winched him out of there.
"Dean?"
His attention snapped back to Gus.
Gus was leaning in close. "Where's Sam? What tunnel is he in?"
Dean stared at him, searching his memory. Unlike its modern counterpart, the tunnels of the old mine weren't numbered. His heart rate escalated as he tried to remember exactly where Sam was. "I can show you." He grabbed Gus's arm and started to pull himself up. "I'll know the way when I get down there."
"How 'bout you just tell me best you can." Gus gently but firmly pushed Dean back down. "You're in no shape for any more mine exploration. Did you mark the tunnels like I told you? If you did, we can just follow-"
"No." Dean glared at Gus. "You'll be going 'round in circles, wasting time when it's not safe. I'll take you to him."
"No offense, son, but most of these men…." Gus waved his arm at the miners gearing up around the site. "They've been working these mines as long as you've been alive. I've got two teams down there already, starting a grid search so-"
"No!" Dean grabbed Donna's hand as she was about to inject something else in his IV, and then turned to Gus. "You call those men and you tell them to turn on every damn light they've got with them." He swallowed. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, I know I sound crazy, but trust me when I say there is something down there that's dangerous, but it doesn't like the light.
"Please." Dean grabbed Gus's coverall sleeve. "I will try to explain once we've got Sammy out but, for now, for your men's sake, just take my word for it."
Gus hesitated, then nodded slowly. "All right, son. But I'll be looking forward to that story when everyone's safe and sound." He stood up, holding the radio to his mouth. "Dexter, Mason, I want it lit up like the Fourth of July down there. Apparently we've got some critter hiding in the tunnels and it don't like the light. And keep your eyes peeled. We've already got two men down. I don't want any more. Bailey, unload the generators. We're gonna need 'em to power the worklights when we find Sam."
Dean turned to Donna and pointed at the syringe she held. "Look, do what you want to me once we get Sam out, but I am going back in that mine even if I have to deck you and jump in without a rope." He offered an apologetic smile when he saw her shocked expression. "Call me any names you want. Hell, press charges if you need to, but that's my brother down there. It killed me to leave him alone in the first place. I am not gonna sit on my ass up here doing nothing while Gus's men search blindly. I can help, so I'm going back."
"You almost passed out just sitting up." Donna's tone was worried, not accusatory. "You really think you're up for another trek through that mine?"
Dean's jaw set stubbornly. "Doesn't matter whether I am or not. I'm going."
Gus was back at Dean's side now. He shook his head as he turned to Donna. "You wanna knock him out, I'll hold him down. Your call."
Despite his tough talk, Dean knew he was in no shape to win any fight, so he simply let his fear and worry for his brother show. "Please. I have to go."
Donna was reaching for a blood pressure cuff. "Give me five minutes to check you out properly. Any red flags, you stay put, otherwise okay. Deal?"
Dean nodded.
As Donna fastened the cuff around his arm, she glanced up at Gus. "If he goes, I go. You better find me some gear."
Dean watched as the paramedic inflated the blood pressure cuff. "When we get down there, you never mind me. You just help Sam."
Donna motioned to another paramedic standing next to an ATV with a red cross on the side, and climbing into a pair of Swancott coveralls. "That's my partner, Colin. He'll take care of Sam."
Gus frowned as he watched Donna listen to Dean's heart and lungs. "Well? We taking him with us or knocking him out?"
Donna hooked her stethoscope around her neck. "His vitals have improved but they're a long way from great." She smiled sympathetically at Dean. "But I've got a kid brother and I know how I'd feel if he was in trouble." She turned to Gus. "Let's get suited up."
xxxXXXxxx
Dean was back in the tunnel and standing, but it was taking a concerted effort to stay that way. He'd almost toppled over once already, simply reaching down to grab the air rifle he'd abandoned at the base of the rubble pile. The fact he was still upright was thanks to Donna grabbing the back of his jacket and locking an arm around his waist.
He nodded his thanks to the paramedic. "M'okay."
Donna relaxed her hold, once she was sure Dean was steady. Like Gus, her attention was locked on the gun Dean held.
"Look, I told you there's something down here, something nasty. If we run into it, this'll get rid of it without blowing us all up. You just gotta trust me on that." Dean turned and stared at the tunnel ahead. Thanks to Donna's care on the surface and the breathing mask he now wore, his head was a lot clearer than when he'd stumbled through the tunnels trying to get out. He closed his eyes and remembered Sam dragging his finger in a double dogleg along the map Gus had given them. He motioned ahead and took a shaky step forward. "Sam's this way."
"Hold up there, son." Gus grabbed his arm. "The two teams I've already got down here are on their way back, and if you want this place lit up like a night game at Yankee Stadium, we need the generators that are coming down now."
"But-"
"But nothing." Gus's voice was stern. "The safety of every man and woman down here is on me. We're gonna get your brother out, but we're gonna make sure we have everything to do it the right way."
It only took another five minutes to get the generators, and medical and rescue equipment down into the mine, and the other two teams to meet up with them, but to Dean it seemed liked hours. He was chomping at the bit by the time Gus gave him a nod, and he stumbled off down the tunnel.
They were a big group. Fifteen, according to the quick head count Dean had done just before they set off down the tunnel. And a big group made for an easy target if the spirits decided to play dirty, but they'd cross that bridge if they had to. The priority right now was Sam.
His brother had been alone in the mine for hours, and the knot in Dean's gut over having to leave him was getting larger with every passing minute. Sam had been in rough shape when he'd left and all this time spent stuck under the rubble, his air supply negligible, wasn't making him any better. And if the spirits had shown their ugly mugs again….
Dean stumbled when he tried to pick up the pace.
"Whoa, there." Donna's arm was back around his waist. "Slow and steady. That'll get you across the finish line."
Dean's jaw clenched but he kept pushing forward. The mine seemed to go on forever. Every time he turned a corner, he expected to see the lantern hanging from the beam, to see the rubble pile holding his brother captive, but every tunnel was empty. Doubt was creeping in, rapidly convincing him that he'd made a wrong turn, that he'd gotten the whole freaking rescue party lost until he turned one last corner.
This was tunnel. The cave-in was at the end of it.
But something was off. There was no light.
"Sammy!" Dean shook off Donna's support and launched into a stumbling run, his heart pounding not from exertion but from fear over what he might find. As the beam from his helmet lamp fell on the rock pile, his heart beat even faster.
Sam's head was tilted back and to the side, his breathing mask discarded. As Dean got close enough, it was quickly apparent that his brother's eyes were closed. His gaze traveled from the smashed lantern on the tunnel floor in front of the cave-in, to Sam's helmet on the ground, its light extinguished, too. Something had gone down.
"Sam?" Dean dropped to his knees, not entirely by choice, and grabbed his brother's arm. It took a moment to shove the coverall sleeve out of the way but he exhaled audibly when he found a slow pulse. "He's alive. He's still alive."
"Good. Then let's keep him that way." Donna had her hands on Dean's shoulders, gently trying to move him out of the way. "Dean, please. Give us room to work."
Dean nodded, but needed Donna's help to get back to his feet and move off to the side. There, he slid down the wall and sat on the ground, facing Sam. He waved off the paramedic's attempts to help. "M'fine. Go take care of Sammy."
It took another firm, "Go!" to convince her, but Donna nodded and quickly moved over to Sam.
The paramedics knelt either side of Sam. Colin quickly placed an oxygen mask over Sam's mouth and nose before checking his pupil response. Donna was cutting through the sleeve of Sam's coveralls, preparing to check his blood pressure and start an IV.
Beside the medics, two engineers were studying the rubble Sam was trapped under, working out the best-and safest-way to free him.
The hum of a generator filled Dean's ears a second before the tunnel was flooded with light. Dean screwed his eyes shut, then shielded them with his hand as he opened them slowly, giving them time to adjust to the sudden brilliant light. Shadows of the miners, dancing across the walls as they worked, disappeared a few seconds later as a second light on the opposite side of the tunnel was attached to the generator.
Dean nodded in approval. If the light hurt his eyes, no damn way were the spirits getting near them. His grip on his gun relaxed and he turned his attention back to Sam.
xxxXXXxxx
Sam came to with a start, his eyes slamming shut almost as soon as he opened them because the light was so bright.
"Relax. You're gonna be okay." The voice was female and judging by the gentle touch, so was the hand gripping his arm reassuringly. "Keep your eyes closed if the light hurts them. You've been down here a while so it might take a bit to get used to it. But we're gonna take good care of you and we're gonna get you out."
Sam shook his head. He didn't care if the light hurt; he'd been in the dark too damn long. He squinted at first, then slowly forced his eyes open. The light made them water, which made his vision blurry but, even with everything out of focus, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The tunnel was full of people dressed in Swancott orange coveralls. Two men to his right were placing some kind of hydraulic jack under the beam pinning him. Others were pulling rubble from around him. He must've been out for some time because the rescue effort was well under way.
He grabbed for the female paramedic's arm, trying to get his voice to work but she seemed to read his mind.
"The guy you have to thank for all this is over there." She gestured to Sam's left.
Sam rolled his head to the side and his eyes widened. Through all the miners milling about, he caught sight of Dean slumped against the tunnel wall. His brother had looked better when he'd rolled in from a bar after an all-night bender, but he most definitely wasn't dead.
Dean smiled tiredly, pushed himself up with a groan and staggered over to Sam. Between the paramedics and the engineers, he couldn't get closer than a few feet so he gave a small wave. "Told you I'd be back. Brought a few friends with me."
Sam stared up at Dean. "You look like crap."
Dean snorted. "Most folks would just say thank you. And by the way, you're not looking so hot, yourself."
Sam felt sick. "They said you were dead."
"Who did?" That question was from the male paramedic.
The flash of anger across Dean's face told Sam his brother knew exactly who he was talking about.
"You were dreaming, Sammy. I'm fine." Dean opened his arms wide in a look-at-me gesture, and almost overbalanced.
"Fine's a bit of stretch. You need to sit down." The female paramedic was on her feet quickly and guiding Dean to the side of the tunnel. She glanced back at Sam. "Your brother had a close call. He'll be fine, as long as he takes it easy for a bit."
Dean scowled as the paramedic steadied him as he slid down the wall to sit on the tunnel floor again. "Sam, this is Donna. As you may have noticed, she's kinda bossy."
"Sound like you two have a lot in common." Sam snorted softly, which started him coughing.
"Sam, I'm Colin." This was the male paramedic talking to him. "Let's keep the talking to a minimum for now, okay? We're gonna be ready to move you soon but I need to ask you a few questions first. Just nod, shake your head or stick to one-word answers when you can, alright?"
Sam screwed his eyes closed as he turned toward Colin, the lights and the noise around him suddenly overwhelming. The paramedic's words were distorted and unintelligible. He felt himself falling….
"Hey! Sam! Stay with me."
"Yeah." Sam blinked and Colin's worried face came into focus, the noise around him dropping back to normal levels. He swallowed. "Still here."
"Good. You have a headache?"
Sam gave a slight nod.
"What about pain elsewhere? Your left arm?"
Sam shrugged. "Feels…pinched."
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Two-ish."
"What about your legs?"
Sam swallowed. "Sometimes numb, sometimes six or seven."
"Okay." Colin emptied the contents of a syringe into Sam's IV. "Any chest pain? Difficulty breathing?"
Sam gave a slight shrug.
"Back pain?"
Sam glanced down at his right arm which now bore a blood pressure cuff, the IV at his elbow, and a pulse oximeter clip on his finger. "You're worried about crush injuries, right?"
Colin glanced up as he worked. "You've been stuck in here a long time. We have to be cautious. But, right now, your blood pressure's good. We've got you started on fluids and a drug that should help keep things in check when we pull all this crap off you." He offered a small smile as he attached leads from the heart monitor to Sam's chest. "Let's not borrow trouble, huh? We'll get you out, then we'll see what's what."
At that moment, Gus clapped a hand on Colin's shoulder. "We're ready whenever you are. Just give us the word."
Colin nodded as he stood up. "He's set."
Gus returned the nod, then turned to his crew, "Okay, people. Let's do this."
To be continued...
To Chapter 5