Day 30:
Ominous
His entire left foot and halfway up his shin was raw. What remained of his pant leg rubbed against raw skin as course sand bit at everything else. He shifted onto his back and got his leg out of the sand. Pain flared as he brushed as much of the sand as he could away, blinding him with tears as he worked. It was hard to keep working till he couldn’t feel anymore sand stuck to his leg. He looked around, searching for anything that would work as a temporary bandage.
He looked up at the seat belts he had been strapped into. They were probably the worst thing to use but he had a shirt under the uniform he could use. But then his thoughts went to chaffing and so many other things that he had to shake his head clear. He looked over at the other body in the space and balked at the thought of even touching it. Unfortunately, the left foot was sticking out of the sand undamaged and free of sand. Nausea rolled through him as he started to drag himself over to the body.
His hands shook as he undid the laces and tugged the boot free. The sock underneath looked clean enough - even smelt clean enough; whoever the body had been had kept good hygiene and he was grateful for that one blessing - so he took that too. The sock rubbed at the raw skin and it sent faint tendrils of pain shooting up his leg but the sock went up to his knee and protected the injury from sand. He pulled the boot on and found it a bit tight but doable. He tied it down and used the long laces to tie the torn pant leg shut around his calf. It probably wasn’t fool proof against sand but it would be better than nothing. Now all he had to deal with was the right shoe.
He pulled out one of the tube of burs and rolled it over in his palm. The burs themselves were small, skinny, and he didn’t quite understand how they were supposed to shred anything that was chasing him. Carefully, he popped the cap, surprised when it hung from a strip of plastic rather than come completely free and with continued care he shook one bur out onto the sand beside him.
The little strip of metal sprung open and he jerked back in surprise. He pressed the cap back into place before shoving it into the pocket. The bur itself wasn’t larger than a quarter in any direction. Each of its four points looked razor sharp but the hing each arm was attached to looked safe enough to grasp. He got his fingers in among the joints and picked it up. He had a rather secure hold on it and carefully stood on his left leg. Pain skittered up his leg but he ignored it and grabbed at one of the longest belts he had been in.
Tucker hadn’t been kidding. Barely three swipes at the durable material and it came free. He had at the other end before he eased himself back into the sand. There wasn’t as much sand on the bottom of his right foot but there was enough that he sent skittering bolts of pain up his leg from brushing the sand away. The belt worked as he had hoped, though, and made a rather effective sole as he wrapped it around the body of the shoe. He looked to the body. He needed some sort of sock and as much as he didn’t want to discover how much of the body was missing, he had to try.
Tucking the belt out of the sand, he paused, looking at the seats. He ran his hand over them and frowned. There was a chance there was enough padding to act like a cushion. The bur point was dragging through the bottom cushion before he had even finished that thought. The cushion wasn’t new but it also wasn’t gross or falling apart. He grabbed the belt and sat back down. With the bottom of the shoe packed full, he wrapped the belt around the shoe and tied it off. With a quick bit of ingenuity, he stabbed holes through the end of the belt large enough for the shoelaces to slip through and he tied the end down as he tied the boot shut.
The sun beat down on him as he stepped out from his shelter. He brought his hand up against the rim of the helmet and squinted against the glare.
Whatever had happened, it hadn’t happened where he was or it had decimated the fleet. There were maybe four other chunks of vehicle scattered in the valley between dunes with barely any sign remaining of where they had come from. The dune to his left had two grooves and a few pockets that were being erased by wind and shifting sand and he mentally marked it before wandering over to the other pieces. Out of all the pieces, only one other held part of the seats. It looked like the cab, even, but there wasn’t a body to be found. Instead, the two bodies he did find he had quite literally stumbled over in the sand on his way to check the other pieces for anything useful.
Something glistened in the sand.
He froze, gaze snapping to it immediately. It was hard to make out and he carefully reached into the sand to retrieve it, a heavy ominous feeling settling on his back.
Despite it being slightly larger than the large marble of a marble set, the Core was heavy and cold. He curled his fingers around it, attention now honed in on the fact that he had no idea where Dlmor was.
It was strange how he knew the Core in his hand didn’t belong to Dlmor.
He started up the dune that had been marked by the parts of the vehicle tumbling down it, not that those marks existed anymore. Getting to the top took a very long time and wore him out. He crested the top only to lose his footing and slide down enough to be hidden by the dune itself.
The noises beyond the ridge slammed into him as he finally realized there was sound to hear. Gunfire, screams from human and creature, and something else rolled over him, pulling at him. He pressed into the dune and got himself over the ridge enough to see the battlefield.
He could barely make out the humans in their beige gear but the Kret were stark against the sand. They looked like living stone statues from where he was. The creatures were fighting the humans and losing from what he could tell. There was a flash of darker stone color and he honed in on it. Sure enough, there was movement in the battle and Ysle stood out like a sore thumb. The creature was hauling ass through the Kret and he took comfort in the thought that Tolnoran was still alright. He looked around, trying to see if he could find the dark spot that would have been Dlmor.
His heart sank when he couldn’t spot the creature in among the soldiers and Kret. It quickened half a second later as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Classical music from an old radio drifted around him from behind.
He threw himself sideway and started to roll down the hill at an alarming rate. He didn’t get the chance to correct himself before he was sliding to a stop at the bottom on his back, feet pointed to the top of the hill. Ice filled his veins as he found himself looking at an Olnvorox.
A cry escaped his throat when it suddenly appeared over him and he rolled out of the way of its claws. There was noise of its hand sinking into the sand and with a certainty he couldn’t even fathom the origin of, he knew this was no dream, no ploy on the thing’s part. If he or anyone else died here, they would be dead.
“Dlmor!” he screamed, the sound of his own voice solidifying that dreadful realization, that belief into his chest.
The thing came at him again and he dove for the sand a second time.
Pain flared at the center of his back as he was thrown forward. He hit sand before he slammed into hot metal. He scrambled away, aiming for the dune.
The thing was on him again and grabbed at the back of his vest. It sliced through it, catching his back but not ridding him of the shirt underneath. A scream of pain ripped itself from his throat as he pinned the vest to his chest. There had to be pain coming from his feet as he booked it for the dune again but he barely noticed. He groped for the tubes of burs and his sweaty palm clamped around one. There was the sensation of being watched before he was smacked from the side and thrown back into the valley. He kept the tube up and away from anything that could accidentally open it but it meant leaving his back exposed and the pain from his back made him black out for a moment.
Sucking in a breath hurt. Moving hurt. Anything he did sent pain through every limb and constricted his chest but he had to move, had to get up.
Seeing what counted as the thing’s feet was good motivation and he leapt to his feet. It was not graceful to any stretch of the imagination - he could almost count every grain of sand sending stabbing pain through every nerve in his back - but he was up and facing his enemy head on. With a snarl, he flicked the cap off and threw the burs at the creature without letting the tube go.
He didn’t stick around to see if there was any telling damage as he ran away.
There was a scream that shot through his head but that didn’t tell him anything either.
Something wrapped around his throat and yanked him backwards. His back hit sand again and despite the excruciating pain that caused, he didn’t black out that time. It did blacken his vision but it cleared quickly. The thing was standing over him grinning in a way that shouldn’t have been physically possible. It raised its claws for another strike.
Out of instinct he brought his arms up to cover his head.
Out of instinct, he screamed.
Except, instead of some wordless sound of terror, a word he didn’t understand escaped his throat.
It was like the earth beneath him pulsed. His arms shifted clearing his view of the thing above him in time to catch the claws coming within a hair’s breadth of him before something slammed into it and tore it from his view.
There were shouts and people were upon him and he couldn’t spare them a thought as he rolled onto his feet. What pain he did feel was lost to the connection he had with Dlmor.
It was like he wasn’t quite himself anymore but not in a bad way. He felt whole, like he had always been missing a part of himself that he hadn’t even known was gone. There was a fullness to his existence that seemed like a brilliant flame after being in the cold darkness for so long. Ahead of him his piece of the night sky shoved off the Olnvorox. Dlmor placed itself between him and the thing, growling low in its throat. The Olnvorox’s gaze moved to the voices behind Artemis, to the things he hadn’t paid much mind to and knew he couldn’t ignore anymore.
Dlmor moved at the same time he did. They went in completely different directions - Dlmor at the thing, Artemis at the people behind him - and he found himself facing Beckett, Cole, Dean, and Sam. They were asking him things, demanding answers, but a large chunk of his attention was on the fight at his back.
“I’ll explain later,” he assured them, grabbing at Beckett and Cole’s arms. “But we have to get inside. Now.”
He was putting all his faith into the two Sensitives. If they didn’t believe him, if they didn’t stop asking questions and just did as he asked, they weren’t going to live through this.
Beckett, the light that they were in his life, believed him first and trusted him first. They gave a sharp nod before starting towards the cabin of their own choice. Their brother wasn’t far behind which got Dean and Sam to follow suit. It wasn’t till he was bringing up the rear that he finally registered that he was back at the cabin.
They weren’t in the Second Plane anymore.
He looked up at the seat belts he had been strapped into. They were probably the worst thing to use but he had a shirt under the uniform he could use. But then his thoughts went to chaffing and so many other things that he had to shake his head clear. He looked over at the other body in the space and balked at the thought of even touching it. Unfortunately, the left foot was sticking out of the sand undamaged and free of sand. Nausea rolled through him as he started to drag himself over to the body.
His hands shook as he undid the laces and tugged the boot free. The sock underneath looked clean enough - even smelt clean enough; whoever the body had been had kept good hygiene and he was grateful for that one blessing - so he took that too. The sock rubbed at the raw skin and it sent faint tendrils of pain shooting up his leg but the sock went up to his knee and protected the injury from sand. He pulled the boot on and found it a bit tight but doable. He tied it down and used the long laces to tie the torn pant leg shut around his calf. It probably wasn’t fool proof against sand but it would be better than nothing. Now all he had to deal with was the right shoe.
He pulled out one of the tube of burs and rolled it over in his palm. The burs themselves were small, skinny, and he didn’t quite understand how they were supposed to shred anything that was chasing him. Carefully, he popped the cap, surprised when it hung from a strip of plastic rather than come completely free and with continued care he shook one bur out onto the sand beside him.
The little strip of metal sprung open and he jerked back in surprise. He pressed the cap back into place before shoving it into the pocket. The bur itself wasn’t larger than a quarter in any direction. Each of its four points looked razor sharp but the hing each arm was attached to looked safe enough to grasp. He got his fingers in among the joints and picked it up. He had a rather secure hold on it and carefully stood on his left leg. Pain skittered up his leg but he ignored it and grabbed at one of the longest belts he had been in.
Tucker hadn’t been kidding. Barely three swipes at the durable material and it came free. He had at the other end before he eased himself back into the sand. There wasn’t as much sand on the bottom of his right foot but there was enough that he sent skittering bolts of pain up his leg from brushing the sand away. The belt worked as he had hoped, though, and made a rather effective sole as he wrapped it around the body of the shoe. He looked to the body. He needed some sort of sock and as much as he didn’t want to discover how much of the body was missing, he had to try.
Tucking the belt out of the sand, he paused, looking at the seats. He ran his hand over them and frowned. There was a chance there was enough padding to act like a cushion. The bur point was dragging through the bottom cushion before he had even finished that thought. The cushion wasn’t new but it also wasn’t gross or falling apart. He grabbed the belt and sat back down. With the bottom of the shoe packed full, he wrapped the belt around the shoe and tied it off. With a quick bit of ingenuity, he stabbed holes through the end of the belt large enough for the shoelaces to slip through and he tied the end down as he tied the boot shut.
The sun beat down on him as he stepped out from his shelter. He brought his hand up against the rim of the helmet and squinted against the glare.
Whatever had happened, it hadn’t happened where he was or it had decimated the fleet. There were maybe four other chunks of vehicle scattered in the valley between dunes with barely any sign remaining of where they had come from. The dune to his left had two grooves and a few pockets that were being erased by wind and shifting sand and he mentally marked it before wandering over to the other pieces. Out of all the pieces, only one other held part of the seats. It looked like the cab, even, but there wasn’t a body to be found. Instead, the two bodies he did find he had quite literally stumbled over in the sand on his way to check the other pieces for anything useful.
Something glistened in the sand.
He froze, gaze snapping to it immediately. It was hard to make out and he carefully reached into the sand to retrieve it, a heavy ominous feeling settling on his back.
Despite it being slightly larger than the large marble of a marble set, the Core was heavy and cold. He curled his fingers around it, attention now honed in on the fact that he had no idea where Dlmor was.
It was strange how he knew the Core in his hand didn’t belong to Dlmor.
He started up the dune that had been marked by the parts of the vehicle tumbling down it, not that those marks existed anymore. Getting to the top took a very long time and wore him out. He crested the top only to lose his footing and slide down enough to be hidden by the dune itself.
The noises beyond the ridge slammed into him as he finally realized there was sound to hear. Gunfire, screams from human and creature, and something else rolled over him, pulling at him. He pressed into the dune and got himself over the ridge enough to see the battlefield.
He could barely make out the humans in their beige gear but the Kret were stark against the sand. They looked like living stone statues from where he was. The creatures were fighting the humans and losing from what he could tell. There was a flash of darker stone color and he honed in on it. Sure enough, there was movement in the battle and Ysle stood out like a sore thumb. The creature was hauling ass through the Kret and he took comfort in the thought that Tolnoran was still alright. He looked around, trying to see if he could find the dark spot that would have been Dlmor.
His heart sank when he couldn’t spot the creature in among the soldiers and Kret. It quickened half a second later as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Classical music from an old radio drifted around him from behind.
He threw himself sideway and started to roll down the hill at an alarming rate. He didn’t get the chance to correct himself before he was sliding to a stop at the bottom on his back, feet pointed to the top of the hill. Ice filled his veins as he found himself looking at an Olnvorox.
A cry escaped his throat when it suddenly appeared over him and he rolled out of the way of its claws. There was noise of its hand sinking into the sand and with a certainty he couldn’t even fathom the origin of, he knew this was no dream, no ploy on the thing’s part. If he or anyone else died here, they would be dead.
“Dlmor!” he screamed, the sound of his own voice solidifying that dreadful realization, that belief into his chest.
The thing came at him again and he dove for the sand a second time.
Pain flared at the center of his back as he was thrown forward. He hit sand before he slammed into hot metal. He scrambled away, aiming for the dune.
The thing was on him again and grabbed at the back of his vest. It sliced through it, catching his back but not ridding him of the shirt underneath. A scream of pain ripped itself from his throat as he pinned the vest to his chest. There had to be pain coming from his feet as he booked it for the dune again but he barely noticed. He groped for the tubes of burs and his sweaty palm clamped around one. There was the sensation of being watched before he was smacked from the side and thrown back into the valley. He kept the tube up and away from anything that could accidentally open it but it meant leaving his back exposed and the pain from his back made him black out for a moment.
Sucking in a breath hurt. Moving hurt. Anything he did sent pain through every limb and constricted his chest but he had to move, had to get up.
Seeing what counted as the thing’s feet was good motivation and he leapt to his feet. It was not graceful to any stretch of the imagination - he could almost count every grain of sand sending stabbing pain through every nerve in his back - but he was up and facing his enemy head on. With a snarl, he flicked the cap off and threw the burs at the creature without letting the tube go.
He didn’t stick around to see if there was any telling damage as he ran away.
There was a scream that shot through his head but that didn’t tell him anything either.
Something wrapped around his throat and yanked him backwards. His back hit sand again and despite the excruciating pain that caused, he didn’t black out that time. It did blacken his vision but it cleared quickly. The thing was standing over him grinning in a way that shouldn’t have been physically possible. It raised its claws for another strike.
Out of instinct he brought his arms up to cover his head.
Out of instinct, he screamed.
Except, instead of some wordless sound of terror, a word he didn’t understand escaped his throat.
It was like the earth beneath him pulsed. His arms shifted clearing his view of the thing above him in time to catch the claws coming within a hair’s breadth of him before something slammed into it and tore it from his view.
There were shouts and people were upon him and he couldn’t spare them a thought as he rolled onto his feet. What pain he did feel was lost to the connection he had with Dlmor.
It was like he wasn’t quite himself anymore but not in a bad way. He felt whole, like he had always been missing a part of himself that he hadn’t even known was gone. There was a fullness to his existence that seemed like a brilliant flame after being in the cold darkness for so long. Ahead of him his piece of the night sky shoved off the Olnvorox. Dlmor placed itself between him and the thing, growling low in its throat. The Olnvorox’s gaze moved to the voices behind Artemis, to the things he hadn’t paid much mind to and knew he couldn’t ignore anymore.
Dlmor moved at the same time he did. They went in completely different directions - Dlmor at the thing, Artemis at the people behind him - and he found himself facing Beckett, Cole, Dean, and Sam. They were asking him things, demanding answers, but a large chunk of his attention was on the fight at his back.
“I’ll explain later,” he assured them, grabbing at Beckett and Cole’s arms. “But we have to get inside. Now.”
He was putting all his faith into the two Sensitives. If they didn’t believe him, if they didn’t stop asking questions and just did as he asked, they weren’t going to live through this.
Beckett, the light that they were in his life, believed him first and trusted him first. They gave a sharp nod before starting towards the cabin of their own choice. Their brother wasn’t far behind which got Dean and Sam to follow suit. It wasn’t till he was bringing up the rear that he finally registered that he was back at the cabin.
They weren’t in the Second Plane anymore.