Spook Me 2021 - Man from UNCLE
Title: Skin Deep
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Word count: 632
Prompt:
My thanks to sparky955 for listening to me whine about this one and for her beta.
When the wall came tumbling down, it took Napoleon nearly a full minute to register it. Of course, it was night and they been in nearly total darkness for so long that it was hard to tell. It was the wind that was his first clue.
“Illya?” His voice was rusty. They didn’t even talk like they used to. Honestly, what was there to talk about? How long they’d been here? How hungry they were? Topics seem to dwindle after the first week and any strength they had now was applied to eating their tiny daily allotment of food and the rest of the day, vomiting it back up.
There was a soft cough. “Yeah?”
“I think we’re free.” The rain stung his skin as it hit.
“Free?” There was a grunt and he could see a shape move. “I’ve almost forgotten what the word means.”
“Let’s go. Anywhere is better than here.”
Carefully, they made their way through the rubble, falling against each other as they moved. Even so, the rocks tore at them and Napoleon struggled to keep his pants for falling and tripping him even more.
Of course, the wind had blown out the torches that were the only light along the corridor and for a moment, Napoleon held out his hands to warm them on the still-smoldering branches.
They moved slowly with stiff jerks as their joints protested such activity. Time didn’t really seem to matter anymore. They report in as soon as they could and Waverly would just have to understand.
Gradually the corridor grew lighter and then blinding. This deep in the building, the damage was still extensive, but not as devastating.
Illya lifted an arm to shelter his eyes. “Napoleon,” he whispered. “Look!”
A form struggled from beneath a pile of rubble. It was more skeleton than person. Bone glistened white from where flesh had been removed and Napoleon recognized their jail keeper.
“Help me!” he demanded, pleaded, begged as he held an arm towards them.
Napoleon smiled for the first time in forever, or so it seemed. “Go to hell.”
Illya didn’t even bother with that. He made a rude gesture and they stumbled on.
The feeling of thick carpet beneath their feet made Napoleon want to dance, not that he had the strength or energy. Something other than cold wet stone was such a joy on his bare feet.
There was a door standing open and he slipped through it. The people there took one look, gasped and ran screaming from the room.
Napoleon raised a hand to part his hair into place, only to have a chunk of it come out. Illya didn’t look like he fared much better. Once they got some food and medical attention, they would be okay, though.
For now, it was the fire that beckoned to him and the comfortable-looking armchair before it. There was a tray of forgotten fruit and something alcoholic beside that and he claimed the drink eagerly. He took a swig, but most of it dribbled out.
“Always knew you couldn’t hold your liquor,” Illya joked. He was more interested in the food. “At least I still have my teeth.”
“Yeah?” Napoleon sat and sighed happily.
“Well, most of them. The others I keep in my pocket.”
Napoleon smiled as the fire warmed his bones. “Man, this has been a long time in coming. I just hope this isn’t a nice dream and we wake up back in the cell.”
Illya plucked some grapes from their cluster. “I don’t see that happening.”
“What? Us dreaming?”
“No, us waking up if that is, indeed, the case.”
Napoleon picked up a stainless steel gazing ball. It was heavier than it looked. A skeleton stared back at him. “Yeah, point taken. Oh well, pass the grapes?”
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Word count: 632
Prompt:
My thanks to sparky955 for listening to me whine about this one and for her beta.
When the wall came tumbling down, it took Napoleon nearly a full minute to register it. Of course, it was night and they been in nearly total darkness for so long that it was hard to tell. It was the wind that was his first clue.
“Illya?” His voice was rusty. They didn’t even talk like they used to. Honestly, what was there to talk about? How long they’d been here? How hungry they were? Topics seem to dwindle after the first week and any strength they had now was applied to eating their tiny daily allotment of food and the rest of the day, vomiting it back up.
There was a soft cough. “Yeah?”
“I think we’re free.” The rain stung his skin as it hit.
“Free?” There was a grunt and he could see a shape move. “I’ve almost forgotten what the word means.”
“Let’s go. Anywhere is better than here.”
Carefully, they made their way through the rubble, falling against each other as they moved. Even so, the rocks tore at them and Napoleon struggled to keep his pants for falling and tripping him even more.
Of course, the wind had blown out the torches that were the only light along the corridor and for a moment, Napoleon held out his hands to warm them on the still-smoldering branches.
They moved slowly with stiff jerks as their joints protested such activity. Time didn’t really seem to matter anymore. They report in as soon as they could and Waverly would just have to understand.
Gradually the corridor grew lighter and then blinding. This deep in the building, the damage was still extensive, but not as devastating.
Illya lifted an arm to shelter his eyes. “Napoleon,” he whispered. “Look!”
A form struggled from beneath a pile of rubble. It was more skeleton than person. Bone glistened white from where flesh had been removed and Napoleon recognized their jail keeper.
“Help me!” he demanded, pleaded, begged as he held an arm towards them.
Napoleon smiled for the first time in forever, or so it seemed. “Go to hell.”
Illya didn’t even bother with that. He made a rude gesture and they stumbled on.
The feeling of thick carpet beneath their feet made Napoleon want to dance, not that he had the strength or energy. Something other than cold wet stone was such a joy on his bare feet.
There was a door standing open and he slipped through it. The people there took one look, gasped and ran screaming from the room.
Napoleon raised a hand to part his hair into place, only to have a chunk of it come out. Illya didn’t look like he fared much better. Once they got some food and medical attention, they would be okay, though.
For now, it was the fire that beckoned to him and the comfortable-looking armchair before it. There was a tray of forgotten fruit and something alcoholic beside that and he claimed the drink eagerly. He took a swig, but most of it dribbled out.
“Always knew you couldn’t hold your liquor,” Illya joked. He was more interested in the food. “At least I still have my teeth.”
“Yeah?” Napoleon sat and sighed happily.
“Well, most of them. The others I keep in my pocket.”
Napoleon smiled as the fire warmed his bones. “Man, this has been a long time in coming. I just hope this isn’t a nice dream and we wake up back in the cell.”
Illya plucked some grapes from their cluster. “I don’t see that happening.”
“What? Us dreaming?”
“No, us waking up if that is, indeed, the case.”
Napoleon picked up a stainless steel gazing ball. It was heavier than it looked. A skeleton stared back at him. “Yeah, point taken. Oh well, pass the grapes?”