A brief synopsis of "Firefly" (the show these originated from), so that these stories actually make some sense…
Five hundred years in the future there's a whole new frontier in a brand new universe, and the crew of the Firefly-class spaceship Serenity are eager to stake a claim on the action. They'll take any job, legal or illegal, to keep fuel in the tanks and food on the table. But things get a bit more complicated after they take on a passenger wanted by the new totalitarian Alliance regime. Now they find themselves on the run, desperate to steer clear of Alliance ships and the flesh-eating Reavers who live on the fringes of space.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Characters
Malcolm Reynolds: Captain of the Firefly class ship Serenity. He was formerly a Sergeant for the Independent Army who fought for, well, independence from the Alliance regime. He is one of the few survivors of the battle at Serenity Valley, the final conflict of the war, and by far the bloodiest. Once a firm believer in God, he’s turned his back on his faith, disillusioned by the surrender of his side to the Alliance. Though rough on the outside, he’s a man who deeply cares for the people around him, and acts much as a father figure to his crew, as well as commander.
Zoe Alleyne Washburn: Second in Command on Serenity, she fought with Mal during the war, including at the Battle of Serenity Valley. Once career military, now married to a fellow crew member. She is a multi-faceted character...one minute a warrior, the next a wife longing to have a child, etc. She is a rock to the crew, one that will go to any lengths to protect them, much like Mal.
Jayne Cobb: Mercenary. Rude, crude, oversexed, greedy, with an over inflated sense of self. But behind the brash exterior, he’s (mostly) loyal to the crew...as long as he keeps getting paid. During the show he’s often made out to be fairly stupid. But many fans think that’s more an act, and that he’s really a lot smarter than he seems, he just hides it to keep folks at a disadvantage. (He’s my favorite character, by the way, as he’s very Marine-like in some ways.)
Hoban Washburn: Pilot. He’s also married to Zoe, much to Mal’s dismay. He’s a joker, but when called upon to get the crew out of a tight scrape, he’s all business. Might have served in the War for Independence, but that’s never been confirmed, nor has what side he might have fought for. He’s often jealous of his wife’s friendship with Mal, thinking that she sometimes is a little too willing to blindly go where he leads, but loves her too much to take her away from him.
Kaylee Frye: Engineer. Always has a sweet and sunny disposition (sometimes to the utmost annoyance of the rest of the crew), and refuses to see the bad in anyone until it all but slaps her in the face. She’s a genius with machines, unlucky in love, and abysmal with firearms. She’s known to keep “her” ship up in the air in the unlikeliest of circumstances, and has lovingly decorated the common areas to make it welcoming to everyone. She’s in love with Simon, who I will introduce later.
Inara Serra: Licensed Companion. In a time where prostitution is legal, she’s in the Guild that provides the finest. She came to Serenity under mysterious circumstances which we were never made privy to, and rents one of the shuttles. Because the Guild that she’s a member of is considered in high standing, she lends an air of respectability to their operation. (She is also highly annoying, and my least favorite character.) She and Mal are in love with each other, but both are too proud to admit it, providing the “Undeclared Sexual Tension” on the show.
Shepherd Derrial Book: Preacher. Another character with a mysterious past, hinted to in the show, but never revealed. Most fans think that he had some ties with the Alliance in a previous incarnation as he seems to know just a little too much about everything. (Confirmed later in "A Shepherd's Tale".) Annoys Mal with his sermons (though Mal will generally respect his advice), and eventually becomes a good friend to Jayne of all people.
Simon Tam: Doctor. He came to the ship by chance, carting mysterious cargo, which ended up being his sister in a cryogenic state. He gave up everything…money, career, family, in order to save her from a mysterious “Academy”, when she revealed in a code only he recognized that she and the other “students” were being severely mistreated. Everything he does, he does to try and make her better. Though aware of Kaylee’s feelings for him, he’s so wrapped up in his sister that he doesn’t act on it. The fact that he’s also socially stunted doesn’t help the matter any either.
River Tam: Genius, nutty as a fruitcake, and Simon’s sister. She’s an escapee from The Academy, which seems to have been a front for an experimental operation to turn intuitive children with extremely high IQs into super soldiers of a sort, by rewiring their brains and motor functions. She and her brother are now fugitives from the law, and pursued by a number of bounty hunters and assassins.
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The Stories
These were written about seven years ago, and published on FireflyFans.net. The premise of this series is fairly dark, as it explores the possible nightmares that this crew might have experienced at one time or another.
As the show ended before the backgrounds of any of the characters could really be explored, any referrals to their past are strictly of my own imagination. As this is considered a “Space Western”, some of the dialogue is of a more colloquial style, and I kept it as true to the characters as possible.
The usual fanfic disclaimer: These characters are not mine (though I wish Jayne was), and I'm making no $$$ off of these.
OK, now that you’ve read all this, on with the stories, which are posted in the order they were written.
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Thursday, July 11, 2013
Nightmares: River
River found herself in a long hallway. She looked around, trying to figure out where she might be. Every door was numbered, and had a wire holder attached to it that contained a file. It looked as though she was in a hospital. She walked around until she came across a desk, but there was no one there. In fact, the entire building seemed deserted.
Then she heard it. A faint cry emanated from somewhere behind her, and she spun around to try and locate the source. There were three different corridors to choose from, so she waited quietly to see if she could pinpoint which one to take. After a few minutes, she heard it again, and headed off to the right.
River crept down the hall, propelled by a need to protect that overcame her in waves. She paused and listened at every doorway, peeking into the thin windows, but so far the rooms were all empty.
"River, help me!" The voice was plaintive. She stepped up her search, recklessly throwing open doors looking for the source of the pleas. With frustration she noted that the hall didn't seem to end, instead stretching out longer than she had realized. A blood curdling scream echoed from one of the rooms, and River caught herself matching the scream as she became more frenzied.
She clapped her hands over her ears as tears ran down her face. "Must gain control. Have to save her." She murmured this over and over until her breathing slowed.
She concentrated for a moment, working out in her head where the scream had come from, and noticed two big swinging doors amidst the rank of the smaller ones.
It had come from there, she just knew it. She began to run towards the doors, but noticed that the closer she got, the larger the doors seemed. When she finally reached them they towered over her.
She struggled to push the nearest one open, and finally managed to slip inside.
Before her she could see a dais with two thrones. Her mother sat ramrod straight in the one on the left, her father meekly in the right, both dressed in lavish costumes that she recognized, but couldn't remember from where.
In front of the dais was an operating table flanked by the Blue Hands, holding down a child wearing a little blue dress and white pinafore, with white stockings and black patent leather shoes.
Hovering over the child was a feral looking rabbit, his brocade waistcoat and white fur spattered with blood. The little girl looked at her, and she found herself staring into the face that she remembered seeing in the mirror when she was six years old. Little River screamed as the rabbit plunged its paws into her, and came up with a length of intestines, which it began to gnaw upon. The Blue Hands grinned maniacally as they struggled to keep the child still.
Her mother stood up, "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"
The rabbit nodded and reached for Little River's head. With a horrible rending sound, he tore it off and held it aloft.
Her mother nodded in approval, "Very well, I believe it's time for tea."
River screamed, and all eyes turned towards her. The Blue Hands licked their lips lasciviously as they began to walk towards her, leaving the headless little corpse twitching on the table.
"Time to go down the rabbit hole," a quiet voice near her said, and she looked over to find a cat with Simon's gentle smile floating in the air above her. Suddenly the floor opened, and she found herself falling...falling...falling.
She finally landed with a thump, and found herself in a long hallway. She looked around, trying to figure out where she might be. Every door was numbered, and had a wire holder attached to it that contained a file. It looked as though she was in a hospital. She walked around until she came across a desk, but there was no one there.
"Oh God no!" she cried, "I can't do this again!" She heard skittering behind her, and turned to see who was coming.
"I'm late! I'm late!" the white rabbit exclaimed as it came running towards her.
She shrieked and tried to move out of its path, but it felt as though her feet were glued to the floor. The rabbit's little pink eyes glowed with evil, as its face changed into one that she was all too familiar with. As it got closer, it reached for her with its gore spattered paws.
"SIMON! HELP ME!" she screamed, and suddenly she was jarred awake, eyes blinded by the light over her bed. Simon was there, holding her tightly as she cried hysterically into his shoulder.
"Shh mei mei. It was just a dream. Just a dream," Simon reassured her. As he calmed her down, he looked quizzically at the book on her nightstand. When she'd finally cried herself back to sleep, he reached for it.
He read the title and smiled, remembering how they used to read it together when they were children. It had always been one of her favorites. He cracked it open to chapter one...
"ALICE was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or conversations?'
So she was considering, in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but, when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then she heard it. A faint cry emanated from somewhere behind her, and she spun around to try and locate the source. There were three different corridors to choose from, so she waited quietly to see if she could pinpoint which one to take. After a few minutes, she heard it again, and headed off to the right.
River crept down the hall, propelled by a need to protect that overcame her in waves. She paused and listened at every doorway, peeking into the thin windows, but so far the rooms were all empty.
"River, help me!" The voice was plaintive. She stepped up her search, recklessly throwing open doors looking for the source of the pleas. With frustration she noted that the hall didn't seem to end, instead stretching out longer than she had realized. A blood curdling scream echoed from one of the rooms, and River caught herself matching the scream as she became more frenzied.
She clapped her hands over her ears as tears ran down her face. "Must gain control. Have to save her." She murmured this over and over until her breathing slowed.
She concentrated for a moment, working out in her head where the scream had come from, and noticed two big swinging doors amidst the rank of the smaller ones.
It had come from there, she just knew it. She began to run towards the doors, but noticed that the closer she got, the larger the doors seemed. When she finally reached them they towered over her.
She struggled to push the nearest one open, and finally managed to slip inside.
Before her she could see a dais with two thrones. Her mother sat ramrod straight in the one on the left, her father meekly in the right, both dressed in lavish costumes that she recognized, but couldn't remember from where.
In front of the dais was an operating table flanked by the Blue Hands, holding down a child wearing a little blue dress and white pinafore, with white stockings and black patent leather shoes.
Hovering over the child was a feral looking rabbit, his brocade waistcoat and white fur spattered with blood. The little girl looked at her, and she found herself staring into the face that she remembered seeing in the mirror when she was six years old. Little River screamed as the rabbit plunged its paws into her, and came up with a length of intestines, which it began to gnaw upon. The Blue Hands grinned maniacally as they struggled to keep the child still.
Her mother stood up, "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"
The rabbit nodded and reached for Little River's head. With a horrible rending sound, he tore it off and held it aloft.
Her mother nodded in approval, "Very well, I believe it's time for tea."
River screamed, and all eyes turned towards her. The Blue Hands licked their lips lasciviously as they began to walk towards her, leaving the headless little corpse twitching on the table.
"Time to go down the rabbit hole," a quiet voice near her said, and she looked over to find a cat with Simon's gentle smile floating in the air above her. Suddenly the floor opened, and she found herself falling...falling...falling.
She finally landed with a thump, and found herself in a long hallway. She looked around, trying to figure out where she might be. Every door was numbered, and had a wire holder attached to it that contained a file. It looked as though she was in a hospital. She walked around until she came across a desk, but there was no one there.
"Oh God no!" she cried, "I can't do this again!" She heard skittering behind her, and turned to see who was coming.
"I'm late! I'm late!" the white rabbit exclaimed as it came running towards her.
She shrieked and tried to move out of its path, but it felt as though her feet were glued to the floor. The rabbit's little pink eyes glowed with evil, as its face changed into one that she was all too familiar with. As it got closer, it reached for her with its gore spattered paws.
"SIMON! HELP ME!" she screamed, and suddenly she was jarred awake, eyes blinded by the light over her bed. Simon was there, holding her tightly as she cried hysterically into his shoulder.
"Shh mei mei. It was just a dream. Just a dream," Simon reassured her. As he calmed her down, he looked quizzically at the book on her nightstand. When she'd finally cried herself back to sleep, he reached for it.
He read the title and smiled, remembering how they used to read it together when they were children. It had always been one of her favorites. He cracked it open to chapter one...
"ALICE was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or conversations?'
So she was considering, in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but, when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Mal
Mal stood quietly, and took in the landscape in front of him. The resilience of nature was remarkable, and as he looked around Serenity Valley six years after the war, only the deepest scars from that battle were still visible.
Though lovely and verdant, it was quiet as no one would live there. Most thought it haunted, if not cursed, by the men and women from both sides who'd lost their lives. While Mal believed in neither haints nor curses, he had to admit that while it was one thing to name your ship after the place, it was quite another to put up a farm and settle there.
As he made his way down into the valley, he'd come across an occasional leftover from the war. While all the big wreckage had been removed - what with the Alliance hoping to erase what had happened there as much as they'd managed to sanitize the history books - he would spot an occasional bayonet, or entrenching tool; even a canteen with the owner's name etched into it.
Mal picked it up, and brushed the dirt away. It was no one he'd known, but he thought maybe he could find the family and return it to them, so he tucked it in one of his coat's inside pockets.
He took another step, and heard an ominous 'snick'. He closed his eyes, and muttered a curse under his breath. The trigger must have been hidden in the tall grass, and he'd carelessly stepped on it. He guessed that when they'd de-mined the place, a few got missed. He took his comm unit out of his pocket and tried to contact the ship, but no one answered his hail.
There was whisper in his ear, "Betcha never thought that once you got out of this valley alive that you'd end up dyin' here, didja Sergeant Reynolds?"
Mal looked around wildly to locate the source of the voice.
"Down here, Sarge."
He looked down. It wasn't a mine he'd stepped on, but a skeletal hand. He jumped back with a shout.
"Thanks kindly." Mal watched in horror as the desiccated corpse lurched itself into a standing position. It held out the hand to him, and in wonderment he took it. The corpse looked steadily at him, and Mal winced as its grip became uncomfortably tight.
"Remember me, Sarge?" the corpse asked.
Mal stammered, "I...well...you...there isn't..."
The corpse's rictus of a smile grew wider, and it let out a papery laugh, "Heh, guess I'm not so 'pretty' anymore. Mebbe this'll help?" It pointed to the name tag on its uniform.
Mal leaned in, "Private Bendis?"
"The very same, Sarge. You're looking well. Guess life after the war has been good to you."
"Well, uh, I guess."
"Can't exactly say the same, Sarge. Been a hard road for those of us got left behind."
"Why's that?" Mal asked hesitantly.
Bendis stepped closer, and he was overcome with the smell of putrefaction, "It's hard bein' forgotten, Sarge. Bein' abandoned by those that we served for, who deserted us without even sayin' a prayer for our soul's safe passage. Like you did."
Mal heard a shuffling sound behind him, and when he turned found that they had been joined by a group of other soldiers, much in the same condition as Bendis was. A wave of fright washed over him as Bendis' comment about him dying in Serenity Valley suddenly came back to mind.
He turned back to the Private, "What're you gonna do to me?"
"Whaddaya think we should do, Sarge? Whaddaya think you deserve? I mean, how is it fair that you got out alive, while we were left here to rot? Do you ever think that the only reason you made it out is because you didn't do enough?"
The barrage of questions confused Mal, "I...I don't know. I didn't think so."
"We beg to differ, Sarge. Last day of the battle, when I got shot...remember? You didn't even blink. I was standing right next to you, the man I admired more than anyone, and when I took a bullet, you didn't even turn to look after me."
"I was just shocked by the surrender, Bendis. ‘Twas nothing personal. I made sure you got buried proper." Mal looked around at the others, and noticed that the green valley now looked as it had those last days of the battle. Smoky, fetid air filled his lungs and stung his eyes, and the cries of the injured and dying assaulted his ears.
The others began to circle him and he spun, looking from one rotted face to another and beseeched. "Bendis, Harrington, Rodriguez, Chin, I'm so sorry! If I could have saved each and every one of you I would have, you know that! But we didn't have the manpower or the supplies. It was a war dammit! You went into it knowin' that you might not come out alive!"
"We know, Sarge," Bendis smiled, "but we think you should have died with us. And we're here now to collect." With that, the horde descended upon him.
Mal woke with a jerk, and looked around frantically. The dining area was empty, as was the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. He blearily picked it up, and turned the last few drops into his mouth.
"So much for drinking to forget," he muttered. He closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, then started to cry. Soon his body was wracked with sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "Oh God, I'm so sorry."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though lovely and verdant, it was quiet as no one would live there. Most thought it haunted, if not cursed, by the men and women from both sides who'd lost their lives. While Mal believed in neither haints nor curses, he had to admit that while it was one thing to name your ship after the place, it was quite another to put up a farm and settle there.
As he made his way down into the valley, he'd come across an occasional leftover from the war. While all the big wreckage had been removed - what with the Alliance hoping to erase what had happened there as much as they'd managed to sanitize the history books - he would spot an occasional bayonet, or entrenching tool; even a canteen with the owner's name etched into it.
Mal picked it up, and brushed the dirt away. It was no one he'd known, but he thought maybe he could find the family and return it to them, so he tucked it in one of his coat's inside pockets.
He took another step, and heard an ominous 'snick'. He closed his eyes, and muttered a curse under his breath. The trigger must have been hidden in the tall grass, and he'd carelessly stepped on it. He guessed that when they'd de-mined the place, a few got missed. He took his comm unit out of his pocket and tried to contact the ship, but no one answered his hail.
There was whisper in his ear, "Betcha never thought that once you got out of this valley alive that you'd end up dyin' here, didja Sergeant Reynolds?"
Mal looked around wildly to locate the source of the voice.
"Down here, Sarge."
He looked down. It wasn't a mine he'd stepped on, but a skeletal hand. He jumped back with a shout.
"Thanks kindly." Mal watched in horror as the desiccated corpse lurched itself into a standing position. It held out the hand to him, and in wonderment he took it. The corpse looked steadily at him, and Mal winced as its grip became uncomfortably tight.
"Remember me, Sarge?" the corpse asked.
Mal stammered, "I...well...you...there isn't..."
The corpse's rictus of a smile grew wider, and it let out a papery laugh, "Heh, guess I'm not so 'pretty' anymore. Mebbe this'll help?" It pointed to the name tag on its uniform.
Mal leaned in, "Private Bendis?"
"The very same, Sarge. You're looking well. Guess life after the war has been good to you."
"Well, uh, I guess."
"Can't exactly say the same, Sarge. Been a hard road for those of us got left behind."
"Why's that?" Mal asked hesitantly.
Bendis stepped closer, and he was overcome with the smell of putrefaction, "It's hard bein' forgotten, Sarge. Bein' abandoned by those that we served for, who deserted us without even sayin' a prayer for our soul's safe passage. Like you did."
Mal heard a shuffling sound behind him, and when he turned found that they had been joined by a group of other soldiers, much in the same condition as Bendis was. A wave of fright washed over him as Bendis' comment about him dying in Serenity Valley suddenly came back to mind.
He turned back to the Private, "What're you gonna do to me?"
"Whaddaya think we should do, Sarge? Whaddaya think you deserve? I mean, how is it fair that you got out alive, while we were left here to rot? Do you ever think that the only reason you made it out is because you didn't do enough?"
The barrage of questions confused Mal, "I...I don't know. I didn't think so."
"We beg to differ, Sarge. Last day of the battle, when I got shot...remember? You didn't even blink. I was standing right next to you, the man I admired more than anyone, and when I took a bullet, you didn't even turn to look after me."
"I was just shocked by the surrender, Bendis. ‘Twas nothing personal. I made sure you got buried proper." Mal looked around at the others, and noticed that the green valley now looked as it had those last days of the battle. Smoky, fetid air filled his lungs and stung his eyes, and the cries of the injured and dying assaulted his ears.
The others began to circle him and he spun, looking from one rotted face to another and beseeched. "Bendis, Harrington, Rodriguez, Chin, I'm so sorry! If I could have saved each and every one of you I would have, you know that! But we didn't have the manpower or the supplies. It was a war dammit! You went into it knowin' that you might not come out alive!"
"We know, Sarge," Bendis smiled, "but we think you should have died with us. And we're here now to collect." With that, the horde descended upon him.
Mal woke with a jerk, and looked around frantically. The dining area was empty, as was the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. He blearily picked it up, and turned the last few drops into his mouth.
"So much for drinking to forget," he muttered. He closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, then started to cry. Soon his body was wracked with sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "Oh God, I'm so sorry."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Jayne
It had all started innocently enough. Kaylee had needed to do some repairs on the engine that required some muscle and Jayne had been happy enough to help. Two weeks in the black had left him irritated and bored so any diversion from the norm was a welcome relief.
As Kaylee prattled on he let his mind drift, but her sudden silence brought him back. He looked over at her, and found her eyes on him. "What?"
Kaylee's expression was grumpy, "You weren't listenin', were you?"
"Sorry."
"S'alright. I was just curious is all."
"Curious about what?"
Kaylee hesitated then let out a sigh, "I was just wonderin' if you remembered the first time you killed a man."
Jayne's expression was grim. "You still upset about what happened at Niska's ain'tcha?"
She nodded, "I just don't know why I froze up so, but for River it just came natural."
"'Cause she's a moonbrain. Don't worry about it. You don't need to be shootin' anyone anyway."
"So what was it like, the first time you did it?"
"Got other first times I'd rather talk about," he leered.
Kaylee rolled her eyes, "Don't want to know 'bout those. Who was it?"
"Gorram it girl, you ain't gonna let this go are you?"
"Nope."
Jayne looked away, "’Twas the Bogeyman," he whispered.
Kaylee wasn't sure if she was more surprised by his answer, or how it was delivered. But something about both kept her from pressing further.
Jayne recalled this conversation as he lay in his bunk that night fighting off sleep, because he knew that when it came the memories sunk deep in his brain like a festering wound would surface. He battled mightily but eventually succumbed, his eyes closing as he fell into slumber...
He was a strapping boy just shy of fourteen when he found her. His older sister Anna hung from a beam in the barn, her lovely features contorted into a black swollen mask as she swung gently from the rope. He'd climbed up to the loft as fast as his legs could carry him, and whipping out his knife cut her down, lowering her as gently as he could given the height of the structure.
Her body fell like a rag doll to the ground below, and he almost broke a leg scrambling back down to her. He loosened the noose around her neck, and despite the fact that he knew it was too late, he tried what he could to revive her. Eventually he gave up and cradled her in his arms, his tears falling like raindrops onto her lifeless body.
After a few moments he stood, picked up her small form, and carried her to the house. His mother saw him through the window, and came out with a wail. Her cries rousted the rest of the household, and soon they were all mourning the untimely death of their golden child. Anna had been the beauty of the family, smart and talented. She'd been a poet, and her work had even been printed in the local paper. She had a knack with children - the Cobb clan providing her plenty of practice - and was studying to be a teacher. She had her whole life in front of her, which made her death by her own hand so incredibly senseless.
Finally his mother spoke, "Jayne, go fetch your father."
He glared at her, "Bill ain't my father."
She sighed resignedly, "I won't argue about this with you right now, Jayne. Just go get him."
Grumbling, Jayne took off to do as she'd said. He'd never liked the man his Ma had married after his father died, and took every opportunity to let him know it. Of course all that got him was a beating, but he refused to treat Bill as anything other than an unwelcome guest.
He found the man in the back field leaning against the horse instead of plowing like he should have been doing. He saw Bill take a swig out of a flask, and curled his lip in disapproval. The farm his father had built into one of the town's finest was suffering from the lazy approach his stepfather took to maintaining it. Adding insult to injury, Jayne knew he would be sent out to the field that weekend to do the work that Bill hadn't, causing even more resentment in the boy.
Bill saw Jayne approach and scowled, "Whaddaya want?"
"Anna's dead. She hung herself in the barn."
Bill went pale, then covered it up quickly with his usual insensitivity, "Oh well, one less mouth to feed."
Jayne curled his fists, tempted to knock the smirk off the man's face. Only respect for his dead sister kept him from doing so. "Ma wants you back at the house."
"I'll head in when I feel like it. Now you git." Jayne started to walk off, stopping only when Bill called out, "She leave a note?"
Jayne turned, his eyes two narrow slits, "Not that I know of."
His stepfather nodded and went back to his drinking, while Jayne stormed off in disgust. When he got back to the house, he went up to the room he shared with his brother Mattie and threw himself on his bed. Burying his face in the pillow, he let out a roar of anger and grief that brought his mother running.
She sat down next to him, and rubbed her hand across his back, "Jayne love, shush now. Whatever caused Anna to do what she did, she'll be happier with the angels. They'll take good care of her."
Jayne lifted his head to look at his mother, his eyes rimmed red from crying, "But Ma, it don't make no sense. Why'd she do it?"
A tear slipped down her face, "I don't know, baby. I guess we'll never know." She stood and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
After a bit Jayne heard the front door slam, and soon the arguing began. He went to the door to listen. Bill didn't want to pay for a funeral, saying his sister didn't deserve one for being a suicide. This sent his mother into hysterics, begging and pleading until the man begrudgingly gave in. "But it ain't gonna be nothin' fancy. We ain't got the money, so you'd better skimp, you hear me?"
His mother murmured her assent, and Bill started up the stairs. Jayne heard him go into Anna's room and begin rummaging around. Curious, he followed.
"Lookin' for somethin'?" he asked.
Bill spun around, "Your Ma wanted me to fetch a dress to send with Anna."
"Funny, I thought dresses were kept in the closet, not the night table."
The older man scowled, "I was lookin' for that necklace she always wore, too."
"She's already wearin' it," Jayne snarled, "saw it when I cut her down."
Bill hurled himself at Jayne, and slapped him hard. "Don't you get lippy with me, boy." He stalked out of the room, and back downstairs.
Jayne went back to his room, rubbing the angry red mark on his cheek. "Asshole." He went to the bureau and opened the drawer that contained the little treasures all teenage boys keep, and took out the capture of he and Anna that had been taken on his thirteenth birthday. He watched with sorrow as the two of them jostled each other, and heard his mother's exasperated voice scolding them to stand still. But as usual they didn't listen, and what was supposed to be a nice formal portrait disintegrated into a dusty wrestling match, punctuated with laughter and squeals. His mother let out a sigh, and the screen went dark.
Jayne was about to put the capture back when he noticed something foreign in his drawer. He slowly drew out the little pink notebook, but before he could open it he was called to do his chores before supper. He tucked the notebook under his mattress guiltily, and slunk downstairs to do as he'd been told.
Later that evening after everyone else had gone to bed, Jayne snuck the notebook and a lantern out to the barn. He crept up to the hayloft, and lit the lantern to as faint a glow as he could and still read, and opened the notebook. He skimmed through most of it, as it was mostly the typical musings and gossip of a fifteen year old girl. Not to mention there wasn't much in there he hadn't already read. He finally figured that if Anna had left something for him to find it would be in the later entries, so he turned to them.
A specific line caught his eye, "The Bogeyman crept out from under my bed last night, and when he left me I was torn up inside, curled into a little ball of fear." Jayne knit his brows and continued to read. The entry was written as a story, and when Jayne reached the end, his jaw was tight with rage. He did poorly in school but he wasn't stupid, and it didn't take him long to figure out who the real Bogeyman was, and what he'd done. "Oh Anna. Why didn't you say anything?" he moaned to the sky.
He heard the barn door open, and a slice of moonlight illuminated the area below. Jayne snuffed out the lantern, and peeked over the edge of the loft to see who was there. He saw it was his stepfather, who'd stolen outside to imbibe some whiskey and smoke a cigar. As if sensing he wasn't alone, Bill looked around warily, and when his eyes stole up to the loft, Jayne pulled his head back quickly. Just not quickly enough.
"That you, Jayne? What in the ruttin' hell are you doin' up there this time of night?"
Jayne climbed down the ladder, and Bill was taken aback by the feral look in the boy's eyes. "I was just readin'."
Bill barked a laugh, "You? Readin'? That's rich."
The boy held up the notebook, and his stepfather's eyes grew wide when he saw it. "Yeah, I been readin'. And there's a real interestin' story in here. Helped me figger out why Anna killed herself."
Bill swallowed hard, "So why'd she do it?"
Jayne tucked the small book into his back pocket, and picked up a pitchfork lying nearby, "It was shame. She said the Bogeyman hurt her. Made her do things she didn't want to."
As Jayne advanced, Bill stumbled backward, "The Bogeyman, eh? She was a little old to be believin' in him, wasn't she?"
"Except I realized that the Bogeyman was real, and that he bore more than just a passin' resemblance to you. Did you know she was pregnant?"
Bill recovered slightly, "Little whore," he spat.
He realized too late that he'd made a horrible mistake. With a grunt, Jayne charged him and speared him in the gut with the pitchfork. "You sonofabitch. The baby was yours, and you know it!"
The older man knew the wounds inflicted on him weren't lethal and he pulled the pitchfork out, tossing it to the side. But the boy wasn't bowed by this display. Grabbing the milking stool, he swung and connected squarely with Bill's face knocking him senseless. Jayne was momentarily frightened by the possibility that he'd killed his stepfather, but it was quickly replaced by a boundless fury. Over and over he beat the man about the head with the stool, until the only way the body could have been identified would have been by its fingerprints.
Jayne awoke then, the horror of that first kill creeping up his spine. He'd set fire to the barn that night to cover up what he'd done. He made it look as though the man had been drunk and tipped over the latern, that it was all a tragic accident. But his mother had never really looked at him the same again, as if somehow she knew what he'd done. And maybe she did, because something in his eyes changed after that night.
That morning at breakfast, he was quieter than usual. Not that anyone really noticed with all the animated conversation going on. He looked around the table, and his eyes settled on Simon. It wasn't that he disliked the man, it was just that every day that went by, he was reminded that Simon had been able to do something that he'd never had the chance to. Save his sister. And that guilt gnawed at him constantly.
Once the meal was over, he got his guns and began the systematic and soothing chore of cleaning them. Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice the slip of a girl creep into the room behind him until he felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she remarked, "We know that not all nightmares happen in your sleep." He reached up and took her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze, then went back to the task at hand. She slipped out quietly, a sad smile on her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Kaylee prattled on he let his mind drift, but her sudden silence brought him back. He looked over at her, and found her eyes on him. "What?"
Kaylee's expression was grumpy, "You weren't listenin', were you?"
"Sorry."
"S'alright. I was just curious is all."
"Curious about what?"
Kaylee hesitated then let out a sigh, "I was just wonderin' if you remembered the first time you killed a man."
Jayne's expression was grim. "You still upset about what happened at Niska's ain'tcha?"
She nodded, "I just don't know why I froze up so, but for River it just came natural."
"'Cause she's a moonbrain. Don't worry about it. You don't need to be shootin' anyone anyway."
"So what was it like, the first time you did it?"
"Got other first times I'd rather talk about," he leered.
Kaylee rolled her eyes, "Don't want to know 'bout those. Who was it?"
"Gorram it girl, you ain't gonna let this go are you?"
"Nope."
Jayne looked away, "’Twas the Bogeyman," he whispered.
Kaylee wasn't sure if she was more surprised by his answer, or how it was delivered. But something about both kept her from pressing further.
Jayne recalled this conversation as he lay in his bunk that night fighting off sleep, because he knew that when it came the memories sunk deep in his brain like a festering wound would surface. He battled mightily but eventually succumbed, his eyes closing as he fell into slumber...
He was a strapping boy just shy of fourteen when he found her. His older sister Anna hung from a beam in the barn, her lovely features contorted into a black swollen mask as she swung gently from the rope. He'd climbed up to the loft as fast as his legs could carry him, and whipping out his knife cut her down, lowering her as gently as he could given the height of the structure.
Her body fell like a rag doll to the ground below, and he almost broke a leg scrambling back down to her. He loosened the noose around her neck, and despite the fact that he knew it was too late, he tried what he could to revive her. Eventually he gave up and cradled her in his arms, his tears falling like raindrops onto her lifeless body.
After a few moments he stood, picked up her small form, and carried her to the house. His mother saw him through the window, and came out with a wail. Her cries rousted the rest of the household, and soon they were all mourning the untimely death of their golden child. Anna had been the beauty of the family, smart and talented. She'd been a poet, and her work had even been printed in the local paper. She had a knack with children - the Cobb clan providing her plenty of practice - and was studying to be a teacher. She had her whole life in front of her, which made her death by her own hand so incredibly senseless.
Finally his mother spoke, "Jayne, go fetch your father."
He glared at her, "Bill ain't my father."
She sighed resignedly, "I won't argue about this with you right now, Jayne. Just go get him."
Grumbling, Jayne took off to do as she'd said. He'd never liked the man his Ma had married after his father died, and took every opportunity to let him know it. Of course all that got him was a beating, but he refused to treat Bill as anything other than an unwelcome guest.
He found the man in the back field leaning against the horse instead of plowing like he should have been doing. He saw Bill take a swig out of a flask, and curled his lip in disapproval. The farm his father had built into one of the town's finest was suffering from the lazy approach his stepfather took to maintaining it. Adding insult to injury, Jayne knew he would be sent out to the field that weekend to do the work that Bill hadn't, causing even more resentment in the boy.
Bill saw Jayne approach and scowled, "Whaddaya want?"
"Anna's dead. She hung herself in the barn."
Bill went pale, then covered it up quickly with his usual insensitivity, "Oh well, one less mouth to feed."
Jayne curled his fists, tempted to knock the smirk off the man's face. Only respect for his dead sister kept him from doing so. "Ma wants you back at the house."
"I'll head in when I feel like it. Now you git." Jayne started to walk off, stopping only when Bill called out, "She leave a note?"
Jayne turned, his eyes two narrow slits, "Not that I know of."
His stepfather nodded and went back to his drinking, while Jayne stormed off in disgust. When he got back to the house, he went up to the room he shared with his brother Mattie and threw himself on his bed. Burying his face in the pillow, he let out a roar of anger and grief that brought his mother running.
She sat down next to him, and rubbed her hand across his back, "Jayne love, shush now. Whatever caused Anna to do what she did, she'll be happier with the angels. They'll take good care of her."
Jayne lifted his head to look at his mother, his eyes rimmed red from crying, "But Ma, it don't make no sense. Why'd she do it?"
A tear slipped down her face, "I don't know, baby. I guess we'll never know." She stood and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
After a bit Jayne heard the front door slam, and soon the arguing began. He went to the door to listen. Bill didn't want to pay for a funeral, saying his sister didn't deserve one for being a suicide. This sent his mother into hysterics, begging and pleading until the man begrudgingly gave in. "But it ain't gonna be nothin' fancy. We ain't got the money, so you'd better skimp, you hear me?"
His mother murmured her assent, and Bill started up the stairs. Jayne heard him go into Anna's room and begin rummaging around. Curious, he followed.
"Lookin' for somethin'?" he asked.
Bill spun around, "Your Ma wanted me to fetch a dress to send with Anna."
"Funny, I thought dresses were kept in the closet, not the night table."
The older man scowled, "I was lookin' for that necklace she always wore, too."
"She's already wearin' it," Jayne snarled, "saw it when I cut her down."
Bill hurled himself at Jayne, and slapped him hard. "Don't you get lippy with me, boy." He stalked out of the room, and back downstairs.
Jayne went back to his room, rubbing the angry red mark on his cheek. "Asshole." He went to the bureau and opened the drawer that contained the little treasures all teenage boys keep, and took out the capture of he and Anna that had been taken on his thirteenth birthday. He watched with sorrow as the two of them jostled each other, and heard his mother's exasperated voice scolding them to stand still. But as usual they didn't listen, and what was supposed to be a nice formal portrait disintegrated into a dusty wrestling match, punctuated with laughter and squeals. His mother let out a sigh, and the screen went dark.
Jayne was about to put the capture back when he noticed something foreign in his drawer. He slowly drew out the little pink notebook, but before he could open it he was called to do his chores before supper. He tucked the notebook under his mattress guiltily, and slunk downstairs to do as he'd been told.
Later that evening after everyone else had gone to bed, Jayne snuck the notebook and a lantern out to the barn. He crept up to the hayloft, and lit the lantern to as faint a glow as he could and still read, and opened the notebook. He skimmed through most of it, as it was mostly the typical musings and gossip of a fifteen year old girl. Not to mention there wasn't much in there he hadn't already read. He finally figured that if Anna had left something for him to find it would be in the later entries, so he turned to them.
A specific line caught his eye, "The Bogeyman crept out from under my bed last night, and when he left me I was torn up inside, curled into a little ball of fear." Jayne knit his brows and continued to read. The entry was written as a story, and when Jayne reached the end, his jaw was tight with rage. He did poorly in school but he wasn't stupid, and it didn't take him long to figure out who the real Bogeyman was, and what he'd done. "Oh Anna. Why didn't you say anything?" he moaned to the sky.
He heard the barn door open, and a slice of moonlight illuminated the area below. Jayne snuffed out the lantern, and peeked over the edge of the loft to see who was there. He saw it was his stepfather, who'd stolen outside to imbibe some whiskey and smoke a cigar. As if sensing he wasn't alone, Bill looked around warily, and when his eyes stole up to the loft, Jayne pulled his head back quickly. Just not quickly enough.
"That you, Jayne? What in the ruttin' hell are you doin' up there this time of night?"
Jayne climbed down the ladder, and Bill was taken aback by the feral look in the boy's eyes. "I was just readin'."
Bill barked a laugh, "You? Readin'? That's rich."
The boy held up the notebook, and his stepfather's eyes grew wide when he saw it. "Yeah, I been readin'. And there's a real interestin' story in here. Helped me figger out why Anna killed herself."
Bill swallowed hard, "So why'd she do it?"
Jayne tucked the small book into his back pocket, and picked up a pitchfork lying nearby, "It was shame. She said the Bogeyman hurt her. Made her do things she didn't want to."
As Jayne advanced, Bill stumbled backward, "The Bogeyman, eh? She was a little old to be believin' in him, wasn't she?"
"Except I realized that the Bogeyman was real, and that he bore more than just a passin' resemblance to you. Did you know she was pregnant?"
Bill recovered slightly, "Little whore," he spat.
He realized too late that he'd made a horrible mistake. With a grunt, Jayne charged him and speared him in the gut with the pitchfork. "You sonofabitch. The baby was yours, and you know it!"
The older man knew the wounds inflicted on him weren't lethal and he pulled the pitchfork out, tossing it to the side. But the boy wasn't bowed by this display. Grabbing the milking stool, he swung and connected squarely with Bill's face knocking him senseless. Jayne was momentarily frightened by the possibility that he'd killed his stepfather, but it was quickly replaced by a boundless fury. Over and over he beat the man about the head with the stool, until the only way the body could have been identified would have been by its fingerprints.
Jayne awoke then, the horror of that first kill creeping up his spine. He'd set fire to the barn that night to cover up what he'd done. He made it look as though the man had been drunk and tipped over the latern, that it was all a tragic accident. But his mother had never really looked at him the same again, as if somehow she knew what he'd done. And maybe she did, because something in his eyes changed after that night.
That morning at breakfast, he was quieter than usual. Not that anyone really noticed with all the animated conversation going on. He looked around the table, and his eyes settled on Simon. It wasn't that he disliked the man, it was just that every day that went by, he was reminded that Simon had been able to do something that he'd never had the chance to. Save his sister. And that guilt gnawed at him constantly.
Once the meal was over, he got his guns and began the systematic and soothing chore of cleaning them. Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice the slip of a girl creep into the room behind him until he felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she remarked, "We know that not all nightmares happen in your sleep." He reached up and took her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze, then went back to the task at hand. She slipped out quietly, a sad smile on her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Inara
I should have uglied you up so no one else'd want you.
The whisper came out of nowhere, slicing through the quiet of her shuttle. They'd been Atherton's words but not his voice. It had been more sinister, more menacing. She glanced around, but couldn't find the source. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Inara went back to her book, but couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She thought that maybe some tea would help to calm her nerves. As she walked over to the little cupboard to retrieve her teapot, she noticed a small spider skitter across the carpeting.
She shuddered. She hated spiders. As a child she'd been wandering through the forest, and came just a little too close to one of a particularly aggressive breed. The bite had almost killed her, and her foot still bore two tiny white dots where she'd been bitten.
She reached for a tissue to dispose of it, when she began to hear little "plops" behind her all around the shuttle. Then something fell on her head. She felt a sting, and brushed her hand over her hair. Another spider fell onto the floor in front of her.
Inara let out a squeak, and turned around. The floor of the shuttle was now covered in spiders of various sizes and breeds, and more were still falling. She noted with a growing horror that they were all coming for her. They rushed over her feet, and began to crawl up her legs.
She began to stomp around, trying to dislodge them, but that only made them dig in. And by digging in, they were injecting her with their venom. As it began to take effect her vision started to blur, and her movements became slower. She soon slumped to the floor, and within seconds the only thing visible was a writhing mass.
Eventually Inara awoke, but could only see an opaque whiteness in front of her eyes. She tried to move, but seemed to be bound. She realized then that she'd been wrapped in layers upon layers of silk. Frantically, she began to fight her restraints. The cocoon was tough, but eventually she was able to free one of her hands. She ripped the covering off of her face, and looked around frantically. She was alone. All the spiders that had riddled her shuttle were gone. She breathed a sigh of thanks and slowly managed to free herself.
As she was plucking the last of the disgusting shroud off of her dress, she heard a quick knock on her door, followed immediately by Mal's head poking in. "'Nara, you there?"
"Mal, I'm over here."
He glanced in her direction, and his face blanched, "Who are you?"
She laughed, "Mal, it's me...Inara."
His eyes widened in confusion, "You're not her. Who are you? How'd you get on my ship?"
Inara was beginning to get angry, "This isn't funny, Mal."
"Tell me about it," he drew his gun and pointed it at her. "Now you're going to explain to me how the hell you got in here, and where Inara is."
"I...I don't know...what's going on?" She turned towards her mirror, and screamed at the visage that faced her. It was that of an old crone, face crisscrossed with wrinkles and scars. Her eyes were cloudy, and her hair had turned to grey, and had fallen out in spots. She raised her hands to her face, and saw that they were sinewy and covered in liver spots. She screamed again...
And awoke in a cold sweat. She struggled to catch her breath, and jumped when she heard a knock on the door.
"'Nara? You OK in there?" It was Mal.
She lurched in front of the mirror, and sighed in relief when her familiar features came into view.
Mal poked his head in the door, "Thought I heard a ruckus, everything all right?"
She feigned irritation, "I'm fine. It was just a bad dream."
"Oh...well, I just wanted to make sure everything was OK." As he shut the door behind him he muttered, "Seems to be a lot of that going on around here lately."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The whisper came out of nowhere, slicing through the quiet of her shuttle. They'd been Atherton's words but not his voice. It had been more sinister, more menacing. She glanced around, but couldn't find the source. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Inara went back to her book, but couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She thought that maybe some tea would help to calm her nerves. As she walked over to the little cupboard to retrieve her teapot, she noticed a small spider skitter across the carpeting.
She shuddered. She hated spiders. As a child she'd been wandering through the forest, and came just a little too close to one of a particularly aggressive breed. The bite had almost killed her, and her foot still bore two tiny white dots where she'd been bitten.
She reached for a tissue to dispose of it, when she began to hear little "plops" behind her all around the shuttle. Then something fell on her head. She felt a sting, and brushed her hand over her hair. Another spider fell onto the floor in front of her.
Inara let out a squeak, and turned around. The floor of the shuttle was now covered in spiders of various sizes and breeds, and more were still falling. She noted with a growing horror that they were all coming for her. They rushed over her feet, and began to crawl up her legs.
She began to stomp around, trying to dislodge them, but that only made them dig in. And by digging in, they were injecting her with their venom. As it began to take effect her vision started to blur, and her movements became slower. She soon slumped to the floor, and within seconds the only thing visible was a writhing mass.
Eventually Inara awoke, but could only see an opaque whiteness in front of her eyes. She tried to move, but seemed to be bound. She realized then that she'd been wrapped in layers upon layers of silk. Frantically, she began to fight her restraints. The cocoon was tough, but eventually she was able to free one of her hands. She ripped the covering off of her face, and looked around frantically. She was alone. All the spiders that had riddled her shuttle were gone. She breathed a sigh of thanks and slowly managed to free herself.
As she was plucking the last of the disgusting shroud off of her dress, she heard a quick knock on her door, followed immediately by Mal's head poking in. "'Nara, you there?"
"Mal, I'm over here."
He glanced in her direction, and his face blanched, "Who are you?"
She laughed, "Mal, it's me...Inara."
His eyes widened in confusion, "You're not her. Who are you? How'd you get on my ship?"
Inara was beginning to get angry, "This isn't funny, Mal."
"Tell me about it," he drew his gun and pointed it at her. "Now you're going to explain to me how the hell you got in here, and where Inara is."
"I...I don't know...what's going on?" She turned towards her mirror, and screamed at the visage that faced her. It was that of an old crone, face crisscrossed with wrinkles and scars. Her eyes were cloudy, and her hair had turned to grey, and had fallen out in spots. She raised her hands to her face, and saw that they were sinewy and covered in liver spots. She screamed again...
And awoke in a cold sweat. She struggled to catch her breath, and jumped when she heard a knock on the door.
"'Nara? You OK in there?" It was Mal.
She lurched in front of the mirror, and sighed in relief when her familiar features came into view.
Mal poked his head in the door, "Thought I heard a ruckus, everything all right?"
She feigned irritation, "I'm fine. It was just a bad dream."
"Oh...well, I just wanted to make sure everything was OK." As he shut the door behind him he muttered, "Seems to be a lot of that going on around here lately."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Zoe
Here we go again.
She pokes around her little spot in this darkness expecting to find wooden walls, but instead her 'coffin' has give.
Wait, this is different.
She's had this dream before. Buried alive, dying slowly as the oxygen runs out and the panic sets in, blah, blah, blah. It's almost become as regular an occurrence to her as breathing.
Need to conserve my breath.
She doesn't really. She just needs to go through the motions, wake with a jerk, and it will all be over.
But what is that smell?
Suddenly it hits her.
It smells like...
She feels the area around her more carefully, and feels hard bone behind soft flesh. Then her hand comes into contact with what can only be a head of hair.
Oh God, this isn't a coffin around me...these are bodies!
Right on cue, the mass above her begins to press down.
Wake up, Zoe!
But her body doesn't respond, and the weight on her chest increases.
I can't die like this! I won't die like this!
She takes advantage of the little space she has left, and shifts the body above her so that it ends up underneath. Systematically, she begins to claw her way out of the pile. She struggles against the urge to retch as her fingers dig into the rotting flesh around her, and fights to breathe using the small amounts of air filtering through. She goes for what feels like hours...
How many can there be?
She knows that if she's fighting through the remains from the war that she'll be digging her way out for a long time. The thought causes her strength to begin to sap, and her efforts weaken.
I have to keep going!
But despite her brain's encouragement, her body has other plans. Suddenly a hand grabs hers, and pulls her out. She is weak, she is tired, but she is alive.
************
Wash wakes when he feels his wife struggling in the bed next to him. His face scrunches with worry, but he learned early on in their relationship that waking her too quickly is a bad idea. He waits until just the right moment, the point where her movements begin to slow, then eases his body next to hers.
He wraps his arms around her, and takes her hand in his. Instantly she relaxes, and her body slumps against his. He whispers sweet murmurs into her ear until her breathing is once again slow and steady.
He's never asked her what she dreams about. In all honesty, he doesn't want to know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She pokes around her little spot in this darkness expecting to find wooden walls, but instead her 'coffin' has give.
Wait, this is different.
She's had this dream before. Buried alive, dying slowly as the oxygen runs out and the panic sets in, blah, blah, blah. It's almost become as regular an occurrence to her as breathing.
Need to conserve my breath.
She doesn't really. She just needs to go through the motions, wake with a jerk, and it will all be over.
But what is that smell?
Suddenly it hits her.
It smells like...
She feels the area around her more carefully, and feels hard bone behind soft flesh. Then her hand comes into contact with what can only be a head of hair.
Oh God, this isn't a coffin around me...these are bodies!
Right on cue, the mass above her begins to press down.
Wake up, Zoe!
But her body doesn't respond, and the weight on her chest increases.
I can't die like this! I won't die like this!
She takes advantage of the little space she has left, and shifts the body above her so that it ends up underneath. Systematically, she begins to claw her way out of the pile. She struggles against the urge to retch as her fingers dig into the rotting flesh around her, and fights to breathe using the small amounts of air filtering through. She goes for what feels like hours...
How many can there be?
She knows that if she's fighting through the remains from the war that she'll be digging her way out for a long time. The thought causes her strength to begin to sap, and her efforts weaken.
I have to keep going!
But despite her brain's encouragement, her body has other plans. Suddenly a hand grabs hers, and pulls her out. She is weak, she is tired, but she is alive.
************
Wash wakes when he feels his wife struggling in the bed next to him. His face scrunches with worry, but he learned early on in their relationship that waking her too quickly is a bad idea. He waits until just the right moment, the point where her movements begin to slow, then eases his body next to hers.
He wraps his arms around her, and takes her hand in his. Instantly she relaxes, and her body slumps against his. He whispers sweet murmurs into her ear until her breathing is once again slow and steady.
He's never asked her what she dreams about. In all honesty, he doesn't want to know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Wash
The alarm let loose its clarion call, and Wash woke with much grumbling. He scrabbled for the clock, and finally managed to find it and turn it off. He sat up scrubbing his hands over his face and smacking his lips, still reeling from the night before.
He stumbled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Once in the shower he realized he'd forgotten to remove his boxers, so he stripped them off and threw the soggy mass out onto the floor. He stood under the shower head for a couple of minutes letting the needles of spray smack him in the face, then set about shampooing his body and soaping up his hair.
Once Wash finished showering, he dried off and brushed his teeth, wondering at what point during the evening his mouth had been stuffed full of cotton. He quickly shaved, then headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.
He stared listlessly at the rank and file of drab suits and chose the grey one, which also happened to be the only one that looked semi-presentable. He made a mental note to take the rest in to be cleaned that weekend. Ahh, the weekend. Only two days away... He then chose a light blue shirt to wear underneath it, and a tie in a particularly vile Hawaiian print.
He walked out into the polluted air, choking slightly before he got his mask fully seated. He barely made the bus, and was dismayed when he found his favorite seat taken by a rather big and scary man that didn't smell particularly well, so he opted to stand. His stop was towards the end of the line, and as a result was shoved and prodded by the other passengers as they struggled to exit. He sighed. He just knew that this day wasn't going to get any better.
He grabbed a cup of coffee and a danish on the way to his desk, and his butt had barely met the seat when Larry barged into what little personal space his cubicle allowed.
"Hey Wash! Great happy hour last night, huh? Hey, did you happen to see the email I just sent you?"
"Uh, negative, Larry. I just got in. Give me a couple of minutes, OK?"
"OK! Let me know what you think of it. I think it's frickin' hi-larious!"
Wash counted to ten, and replied through clenched teeth, "I'm sure it's a real side splitter, Larry. Got to get to work now, you know?" Thankfully Larry got the hint, and left in a huff.
He rolled his eyes. Nope, the day wasn't going to get any better.
Just as he'd gotten logged in, his neighbor on the right side, Rebecca, popped her head over the wall, "Wash! Check this out, I just had some new pictures taken of Sadie! Isn't she a sweetie?"
He took a cursory glance, and smiled for the first time that morning. Crabby as he was, he had to admit that the baby was pretty adorable. Her momma was too. "Real nice, Becky. She's a cutie-pie."
Rebecca beamed, "Thanks, Wash," and she popped back down.
Just then the cube farm got very quiet. Wash heard the unmistakable footsteps of his boss coming, and they were headed right for him. He quickly picked up the phone, and began a mock conversation. The footsteps passed him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hung up, and began to go through his tasks for the day.
Uh oh, the footsteps returned. "Mr. Washburne, may I see you in my office in fifteen minutes, please?"
Wash closed his eyes, and muttered a small curse under his breath. Then changing his tone to one that was a bit more peppy he replied, "Sure thing, Mr. James." Rebecca peeked over the wall with a look of pity on her face, then dropped back out of sight.
His neighbor on the left side, Jude, then made his appearance. And he was smirking, as usual. "I heard the boss talking. You did it again, Washburne, and you're really going to get it this time."
Wash sneered back, "Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you."
When Jude disappeared, he picked up the little plastic Tyrannosaurus off his desk, and waved it menacingly in his cube mate's direction. He then began to wrack his brain to figure out what he'd done wrong now. But any semblance of thought was destroyed when Larry, who sat across the aisle from him, began to talk on the phone...very, very loudly.
Wash resisted the urge to take his keyboard and smash it repeatedly into Larry's face, and instead concentrated on the nice poster his Secret Santa (he always liked to think that it had been Rebecca) had given him for Christmas the year before. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar..." he whispered to himself over and over. It had become his own little mantra.
With a sigh, he headed for Mr. James' office. On his way, something small and sharp smacked him in the face. Was that? Oh for Christ's sake. "Hey, Tom, might want to consider cutting those at home next time, man. You know how it goes...'It's all fun and games 'til someone puts an eye out!'"
Tom just glared, and Wash scooted past quickly. As he made his way through the office jungle, he was barraged by the horror of it all. Sorry little people in their sorry little boxes, doing their sorry little jobs. All for a sorry little paycheck, and the occasional happy hour to bitch about the boss. Once he reached said boss' door, he raised his hand to knock, but it flew open before he could.
"Get in here, Washburne," Mr. James snarled.
"Sir, whatever I might have done, I promise I won't do it again," he pleaded.
Mr. James slammed a folder of paper on his desk. "Dammit Washburne! How many times do I have to tell you before you finally remember to include a cover sheet on your TPS reports?!?"
Before Wash could reply, the proximity alarm went off. He woke with a snort, and was relieved to see his familiar cockpit in front of him. "Guess I dozed off," he mused. "God, did I really almost turn down flight school for that? What was I thinking?"
He checked on the alarm...just a piece of space junk. He deftly swerved around it, and Serenity flew on her way with her happy little pilot, on his happy little ship, with his happy little makeshift family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stumbled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Once in the shower he realized he'd forgotten to remove his boxers, so he stripped them off and threw the soggy mass out onto the floor. He stood under the shower head for a couple of minutes letting the needles of spray smack him in the face, then set about shampooing his body and soaping up his hair.
Once Wash finished showering, he dried off and brushed his teeth, wondering at what point during the evening his mouth had been stuffed full of cotton. He quickly shaved, then headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.
He stared listlessly at the rank and file of drab suits and chose the grey one, which also happened to be the only one that looked semi-presentable. He made a mental note to take the rest in to be cleaned that weekend. Ahh, the weekend. Only two days away... He then chose a light blue shirt to wear underneath it, and a tie in a particularly vile Hawaiian print.
He walked out into the polluted air, choking slightly before he got his mask fully seated. He barely made the bus, and was dismayed when he found his favorite seat taken by a rather big and scary man that didn't smell particularly well, so he opted to stand. His stop was towards the end of the line, and as a result was shoved and prodded by the other passengers as they struggled to exit. He sighed. He just knew that this day wasn't going to get any better.
He grabbed a cup of coffee and a danish on the way to his desk, and his butt had barely met the seat when Larry barged into what little personal space his cubicle allowed.
"Hey Wash! Great happy hour last night, huh? Hey, did you happen to see the email I just sent you?"
"Uh, negative, Larry. I just got in. Give me a couple of minutes, OK?"
"OK! Let me know what you think of it. I think it's frickin' hi-larious!"
Wash counted to ten, and replied through clenched teeth, "I'm sure it's a real side splitter, Larry. Got to get to work now, you know?" Thankfully Larry got the hint, and left in a huff.
He rolled his eyes. Nope, the day wasn't going to get any better.
Just as he'd gotten logged in, his neighbor on the right side, Rebecca, popped her head over the wall, "Wash! Check this out, I just had some new pictures taken of Sadie! Isn't she a sweetie?"
He took a cursory glance, and smiled for the first time that morning. Crabby as he was, he had to admit that the baby was pretty adorable. Her momma was too. "Real nice, Becky. She's a cutie-pie."
Rebecca beamed, "Thanks, Wash," and she popped back down.
Just then the cube farm got very quiet. Wash heard the unmistakable footsteps of his boss coming, and they were headed right for him. He quickly picked up the phone, and began a mock conversation. The footsteps passed him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hung up, and began to go through his tasks for the day.
Uh oh, the footsteps returned. "Mr. Washburne, may I see you in my office in fifteen minutes, please?"
Wash closed his eyes, and muttered a small curse under his breath. Then changing his tone to one that was a bit more peppy he replied, "Sure thing, Mr. James." Rebecca peeked over the wall with a look of pity on her face, then dropped back out of sight.
His neighbor on the left side, Jude, then made his appearance. And he was smirking, as usual. "I heard the boss talking. You did it again, Washburne, and you're really going to get it this time."
Wash sneered back, "Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you."
When Jude disappeared, he picked up the little plastic Tyrannosaurus off his desk, and waved it menacingly in his cube mate's direction. He then began to wrack his brain to figure out what he'd done wrong now. But any semblance of thought was destroyed when Larry, who sat across the aisle from him, began to talk on the phone...very, very loudly.
Wash resisted the urge to take his keyboard and smash it repeatedly into Larry's face, and instead concentrated on the nice poster his Secret Santa (he always liked to think that it had been Rebecca) had given him for Christmas the year before. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar..." he whispered to himself over and over. It had become his own little mantra.
With a sigh, he headed for Mr. James' office. On his way, something small and sharp smacked him in the face. Was that? Oh for Christ's sake. "Hey, Tom, might want to consider cutting those at home next time, man. You know how it goes...'It's all fun and games 'til someone puts an eye out!'"
Tom just glared, and Wash scooted past quickly. As he made his way through the office jungle, he was barraged by the horror of it all. Sorry little people in their sorry little boxes, doing their sorry little jobs. All for a sorry little paycheck, and the occasional happy hour to bitch about the boss. Once he reached said boss' door, he raised his hand to knock, but it flew open before he could.
"Get in here, Washburne," Mr. James snarled.
"Sir, whatever I might have done, I promise I won't do it again," he pleaded.
Mr. James slammed a folder of paper on his desk. "Dammit Washburne! How many times do I have to tell you before you finally remember to include a cover sheet on your TPS reports?!?"
Before Wash could reply, the proximity alarm went off. He woke with a snort, and was relieved to see his familiar cockpit in front of him. "Guess I dozed off," he mused. "God, did I really almost turn down flight school for that? What was I thinking?"
He checked on the alarm...just a piece of space junk. He deftly swerved around it, and Serenity flew on her way with her happy little pilot, on his happy little ship, with his happy little makeshift family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Book
The American Civil War on “Earth that Was” had been a war often fought between brothers. This, too, was a Civil War of sorts, as well as a Revolution. But who ever thought I'd meet my brother under these...
His thoughts were interrupted by a shock of electricity that ripped through his body and left him reeling. As he struggled to catch his breath, that voice came from behind the glass, "Now, are you going to tell us what we want to know?"
"Piss off." He was rewarded with another bone jarring shock for his insubordination.
"The more you resist, the worse this is going to get for you, you know."
Too exhausted to reply, he just nodded.
The voice came over the intercom, "We're not going to get anything else out of him today. Take him back to his cell."
The two guards removed the nodes, and picked him up from his chair. They were less than gentle, eliciting a groan from their ward. They dragged him back to his cell and tossed him in, locking the door behind them.
His cell. More like a coffin set on its end. It was too small for him to lie down, or even sit and stretch his legs. About the only position he could manage comfortably was to curl on the floor in a fetal position. An access door opened and a small bottle of water and a few scraps of protein were pushed through it, and hit the floor. He reached out and shoved the protein in his mouth, ravenous for some sustenance after today's 'session'. However, he ate it too fast, and his stomach rebelled. He crawled over to the hole in the floor that served as his toilet, and it all came back up.
He began to sob miserably. They were close to breaking him, and he knew that the only thing to follow would be his death. Be it at the hands of his captors, or those he would betray, he didn't know. The curtain covering the window in the door of his cell pulled back, and he found himself looking into those eyes. Those eyes that he remembered providing comfort and sympathy when he was small and skinned his knees, or had been bullied by the bigger boys in his class.
They looked down on him now, and they were inscrutable. "Why?" he croaked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
The access door opened, and a little more food was pushed through. "Eat this," said the voice of his once best friend and now tormentor, "you'll need your strength for tomorrow." The curtain dropped, and he was gone.
It was a cruel kindness. If he was stronger the next day, it just meant that there would be that much more suffering he'd have to endure. But hunger won out over sense and he took it, making sure to eat it more slowly this time. He took a few sips of his water, then fell into a dreamless sleep. The sleep of the dead.
The next day began much as the others had. A bucket of water was thrown over him, and he was pulled up off the floor, and dragged to the interrogation room. The nodes were applied to his temples, and the misery began anew. He almost didn't even hear the questions anymore, and his lack of response earned him his punishment. Every time the shocks increased in voltage, and suddenly he just couldn't take it anymore. With a cry, he begged for it to stop, and told them what they wanted to know.
A heavy silence filled the room. Oh God, what had he done? Thousands would die because of what he'd just told them. For one moment of relief, he'd doomed his comrades. He dropped his head down onto the table and wept. The voice came through the intercom, "Your cooperation is much appreciated."
Fury caused him to stand, rip the nodes off, and face the one sided mirror in front of him, "My cooperation is appreciated? You fucking bastard!" he screamed. "I've just doomed an entire legion of my army, and my cooperation is APPRECIATED? Who are you? Because there's no way in hell that you're still my brother! And Hell is the only place you belong now!"
The guards dragged him out of the room, still ranting and thrashing about. Instead of taking him to his usual cell though, he was brought to one that was larger. It had a bed, a real toilet, and a sink. It even had a window, the glass reinforced with wire mesh. But it was a window. He looked outside for the first time in days, and it was raining. Even the sky seemed to be weeping for what he had done.
A few hours later, his dinner arrived. Not surprisingly it was all of his favorite things. He just shoved it around with his fork, too ashamed of himself to eat. He knew a last meal when he saw it. He pushed the tray away, and sat desolately on the edge of the bed, until he fell over in a restless sleep.
The next morning he woke up, disoriented and confused. He'd drowned in his cups again the night before, and realized he was on the street outside the bar. Must've gotten thrown out at some point. He sat up blearily, and looked around him. He was in some no name, pissant little village. Just another one of a string of pissant little villages he'd been existing in lately.
A shadow fell across his face, and he looked up into a kindly round face. "My son, you look as though you could use a shower and a meal."
"I don't need any goddamn charity, Padre'. Leave me alone."
The Shepherd held out his hand, "At least let me help you up out of the gutter before you get run over."
He reluctantly took the outstretched hand, and the Shepherd hauled him to his feet. The man was strong, stronger than he was at that point, and he didn't protest when he found himself being led to a nearby church. He walked inside, and stared at the crucifix hanging over the altar. But instead of Jesus, he saw his brother...tied to a fence, and riddled with bullets.
He turned to the Shepherd, "Padre', I have a confession to make."
"And how long has it been since your last confession?"
He laughed ruefully, "I haven't confessed to anything since I was a child."
"Then you're more than overdue. Come, have a wash, have a meal, then you can tell me all about it."
"No, I need to do this now."
"What's your name son?"
"Derrial Book."
"And what is this sin that absolutely can't wait?"
Tears threatened to choke him, "I...I murdered my baby brother."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His thoughts were interrupted by a shock of electricity that ripped through his body and left him reeling. As he struggled to catch his breath, that voice came from behind the glass, "Now, are you going to tell us what we want to know?"
"Piss off." He was rewarded with another bone jarring shock for his insubordination.
"The more you resist, the worse this is going to get for you, you know."
Too exhausted to reply, he just nodded.
The voice came over the intercom, "We're not going to get anything else out of him today. Take him back to his cell."
The two guards removed the nodes, and picked him up from his chair. They were less than gentle, eliciting a groan from their ward. They dragged him back to his cell and tossed him in, locking the door behind them.
His cell. More like a coffin set on its end. It was too small for him to lie down, or even sit and stretch his legs. About the only position he could manage comfortably was to curl on the floor in a fetal position. An access door opened and a small bottle of water and a few scraps of protein were pushed through it, and hit the floor. He reached out and shoved the protein in his mouth, ravenous for some sustenance after today's 'session'. However, he ate it too fast, and his stomach rebelled. He crawled over to the hole in the floor that served as his toilet, and it all came back up.
He began to sob miserably. They were close to breaking him, and he knew that the only thing to follow would be his death. Be it at the hands of his captors, or those he would betray, he didn't know. The curtain covering the window in the door of his cell pulled back, and he found himself looking into those eyes. Those eyes that he remembered providing comfort and sympathy when he was small and skinned his knees, or had been bullied by the bigger boys in his class.
They looked down on him now, and they were inscrutable. "Why?" he croaked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
The access door opened, and a little more food was pushed through. "Eat this," said the voice of his once best friend and now tormentor, "you'll need your strength for tomorrow." The curtain dropped, and he was gone.
It was a cruel kindness. If he was stronger the next day, it just meant that there would be that much more suffering he'd have to endure. But hunger won out over sense and he took it, making sure to eat it more slowly this time. He took a few sips of his water, then fell into a dreamless sleep. The sleep of the dead.
The next day began much as the others had. A bucket of water was thrown over him, and he was pulled up off the floor, and dragged to the interrogation room. The nodes were applied to his temples, and the misery began anew. He almost didn't even hear the questions anymore, and his lack of response earned him his punishment. Every time the shocks increased in voltage, and suddenly he just couldn't take it anymore. With a cry, he begged for it to stop, and told them what they wanted to know.
A heavy silence filled the room. Oh God, what had he done? Thousands would die because of what he'd just told them. For one moment of relief, he'd doomed his comrades. He dropped his head down onto the table and wept. The voice came through the intercom, "Your cooperation is much appreciated."
Fury caused him to stand, rip the nodes off, and face the one sided mirror in front of him, "My cooperation is appreciated? You fucking bastard!" he screamed. "I've just doomed an entire legion of my army, and my cooperation is APPRECIATED? Who are you? Because there's no way in hell that you're still my brother! And Hell is the only place you belong now!"
The guards dragged him out of the room, still ranting and thrashing about. Instead of taking him to his usual cell though, he was brought to one that was larger. It had a bed, a real toilet, and a sink. It even had a window, the glass reinforced with wire mesh. But it was a window. He looked outside for the first time in days, and it was raining. Even the sky seemed to be weeping for what he had done.
A few hours later, his dinner arrived. Not surprisingly it was all of his favorite things. He just shoved it around with his fork, too ashamed of himself to eat. He knew a last meal when he saw it. He pushed the tray away, and sat desolately on the edge of the bed, until he fell over in a restless sleep.
The next morning he woke up, disoriented and confused. He'd drowned in his cups again the night before, and realized he was on the street outside the bar. Must've gotten thrown out at some point. He sat up blearily, and looked around him. He was in some no name, pissant little village. Just another one of a string of pissant little villages he'd been existing in lately.
A shadow fell across his face, and he looked up into a kindly round face. "My son, you look as though you could use a shower and a meal."
"I don't need any goddamn charity, Padre'. Leave me alone."
The Shepherd held out his hand, "At least let me help you up out of the gutter before you get run over."
He reluctantly took the outstretched hand, and the Shepherd hauled him to his feet. The man was strong, stronger than he was at that point, and he didn't protest when he found himself being led to a nearby church. He walked inside, and stared at the crucifix hanging over the altar. But instead of Jesus, he saw his brother...tied to a fence, and riddled with bullets.
He turned to the Shepherd, "Padre', I have a confession to make."
"And how long has it been since your last confession?"
He laughed ruefully, "I haven't confessed to anything since I was a child."
"Then you're more than overdue. Come, have a wash, have a meal, then you can tell me all about it."
"No, I need to do this now."
"What's your name son?"
"Derrial Book."
"And what is this sin that absolutely can't wait?"
Tears threatened to choke him, "I...I murdered my baby brother."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Kaylee
Kaylee...
She heard the whisper as if it was right in her ear but, tired from the day's activities, she just rolled over.
Kaylee...
There it was again. The little girl in the bed whimpered just slightly, and covered her head with the pillow.
Kaylee, come out and play...
Frustrated by these interruptions to her sleep, she sat up and looked around her small bedroom. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. She could hear her parents out in the living room, jokingly bickering about some small thing, the way that couples together as long as they had been usually do. It comforted her somewhat, and she was just about to settle back down into her bedcovers when she noticed something odd.
There was a faint light shining from the under her closet door. And there was no bulb in there to account for it.
Kaylee...
The whisper came again, and with a mounting fear she noticed that the door to the closet was opening slowly. A lone balloon appeared and fell onto the floor. It was followed by another, and soon an entire avalanche of them flowed out of the ever widening door. She smiled in delight...she loved balloons, and figured that her father had bought some from the fair that day, and hid them in her closet. It was just the silly type of thing that he'd do to make his little girl happy.
She was just about to get out of bed and go over to them when a figure slipped out of the closet.
"April! What're you doin' here?"
The little girl laughed, and Kaylee blanched. It wasn't the sweet voice of a young child that came out of April's mouth. Instead it sounded somehow...wet.
"Kaylee, come and play with us!"
"Us?" Kaylee stammered, "Who else you got in there?"
April approached the bed, and Kaylee scrambled up against the headboard. She let out a gasp when her best friend in all the world walked into the light from the window. April no longer had any eyes, just deep dark holes in her deathly white face. Blood poured from the gaping wound in the child's throat, staining the front of her pink party dress.
"Why...it's me! Jojo!" The clown that had terrified little Kaylee at the fair that day leapt from the closet. Kaylee tried to scream, but all that came out was a squeak.
"What's wrong Kaylee?" he asked snidely, "You don't seem too happy to see me!" He threw his head back and laughed, displaying his set of fine white - and disturbingly sharp - teeth. He looked over at the terrified girl in the bed, and his eyes burned into hers wickedly. He picked up little April, and swung her around. The mangled child emitted a burbling laugh, and turned back to her friend.
"Come with us, Kaylee! We'll all have such fun together!" April squealed in delight.
"You're not real!" Kaylee finally managed to whisper. Jojo dumped April onto the floor, and shot onto her bed. It was then that she realized it wasn't red makeup outlining the clown's mouth.
"You wanna bet?" he hissed, the coppery smell of blood reaching Kaylee's nose. She had to fight down the urge to retch. "Go ahead and yell your head off, pretty girl. You're in my world now, and your parents can't help you."
She did just that. And when Kaylee screamed you heard it. She listened, but the banter coming from the other room didn't change. She tried again, and got the same non-response.
Jojo laughed, "Toldja." He let out a low growl, and crept up the bed until their noses were almost touching. They looked at each other for a moment, and an evil smile crept onto the clown's face.
"BOO!" he shouted, and she screamed. Jojo laughed, "Ah yes, you and me...we're going to have lots of fun, Kaylee." His mouth with those sharp teeth began to play against her neck, and she keened in fear. Suddenly Jojo sat back, "Gotta question for you, though. Have you ever been raped?" She just looked at him with eyes like saucers. He shrugged and lunged, sinking his teeth into her neck.
Kaylee flailed, forgetting she had dozed off in the hammock in the engine room, and almost fell out of it and onto the floor. She muttered a curse, and stabilized herself. Damn that Jubel Early. It was because of him that this hated dream had come back with that nasty little twist at the end. She let out a sigh. Probably about time to get started on dinner anyway.
She got up, and organized the tools that she'd left strewn about, then she grabbed a rag and got most of the grease off her face and hands, and headed to the engine room door. She was just about to step over the threshold, when she felt a light breeze brush by her leg. She looked down, and was startled to see a bright red balloon float past her foot, and into the passage way.
A chuckle sounded behind her, and she turned with dread to see something...someone...moving on the other side of the engine. As soon as she saw the peaked hat with the blue pom pom and those big black shoes, she let out a scream that could've woken the dead.
The clang of her door shocked her out of her dream, and she found Jayne's head peeking down into her quarters, the worry on his face not matching what came out of his mouth. "Gorram it, Kaylee, what the hell is goin' on?"
"Sorry, Jayne," she replied sheepishly, "Had a nightmare."
Jayne climbed down the ladder, and sat next to her on the bed, "You gonna be all right?" he asked gruffly.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"OK then. Y'know, it's bad enough that Crazy keeps us up all the time, don't need you doin' it too."
She took his teasing in stride, and gave him a light punch on the arm, "I'll keep that in mind. Now you get back to bed 'fore the Cap'n comes in here and thinks there's somethin' unseemly goin' on."
Jayne gave her a searching look, and she smiled, "I'm fine, really."
He climbed back up the ladder, then paused, "You need anything, you let me know." He gave her his best leer and a wink, then he was gone.
The smile on her face faded, and she all but tore apart her room checking all the nooks and crannies before she felt calm enough to go back to bed. And even then, she slept with the light on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She heard the whisper as if it was right in her ear but, tired from the day's activities, she just rolled over.
Kaylee...
There it was again. The little girl in the bed whimpered just slightly, and covered her head with the pillow.
Kaylee, come out and play...
Frustrated by these interruptions to her sleep, she sat up and looked around her small bedroom. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. She could hear her parents out in the living room, jokingly bickering about some small thing, the way that couples together as long as they had been usually do. It comforted her somewhat, and she was just about to settle back down into her bedcovers when she noticed something odd.
There was a faint light shining from the under her closet door. And there was no bulb in there to account for it.
Kaylee...
The whisper came again, and with a mounting fear she noticed that the door to the closet was opening slowly. A lone balloon appeared and fell onto the floor. It was followed by another, and soon an entire avalanche of them flowed out of the ever widening door. She smiled in delight...she loved balloons, and figured that her father had bought some from the fair that day, and hid them in her closet. It was just the silly type of thing that he'd do to make his little girl happy.
She was just about to get out of bed and go over to them when a figure slipped out of the closet.
"April! What're you doin' here?"
The little girl laughed, and Kaylee blanched. It wasn't the sweet voice of a young child that came out of April's mouth. Instead it sounded somehow...wet.
"Kaylee, come and play with us!"
"Us?" Kaylee stammered, "Who else you got in there?"
April approached the bed, and Kaylee scrambled up against the headboard. She let out a gasp when her best friend in all the world walked into the light from the window. April no longer had any eyes, just deep dark holes in her deathly white face. Blood poured from the gaping wound in the child's throat, staining the front of her pink party dress.
"Why...it's me! Jojo!" The clown that had terrified little Kaylee at the fair that day leapt from the closet. Kaylee tried to scream, but all that came out was a squeak.
"What's wrong Kaylee?" he asked snidely, "You don't seem too happy to see me!" He threw his head back and laughed, displaying his set of fine white - and disturbingly sharp - teeth. He looked over at the terrified girl in the bed, and his eyes burned into hers wickedly. He picked up little April, and swung her around. The mangled child emitted a burbling laugh, and turned back to her friend.
"Come with us, Kaylee! We'll all have such fun together!" April squealed in delight.
"You're not real!" Kaylee finally managed to whisper. Jojo dumped April onto the floor, and shot onto her bed. It was then that she realized it wasn't red makeup outlining the clown's mouth.
"You wanna bet?" he hissed, the coppery smell of blood reaching Kaylee's nose. She had to fight down the urge to retch. "Go ahead and yell your head off, pretty girl. You're in my world now, and your parents can't help you."
She did just that. And when Kaylee screamed you heard it. She listened, but the banter coming from the other room didn't change. She tried again, and got the same non-response.
Jojo laughed, "Toldja." He let out a low growl, and crept up the bed until their noses were almost touching. They looked at each other for a moment, and an evil smile crept onto the clown's face.
"BOO!" he shouted, and she screamed. Jojo laughed, "Ah yes, you and me...we're going to have lots of fun, Kaylee." His mouth with those sharp teeth began to play against her neck, and she keened in fear. Suddenly Jojo sat back, "Gotta question for you, though. Have you ever been raped?" She just looked at him with eyes like saucers. He shrugged and lunged, sinking his teeth into her neck.
Kaylee flailed, forgetting she had dozed off in the hammock in the engine room, and almost fell out of it and onto the floor. She muttered a curse, and stabilized herself. Damn that Jubel Early. It was because of him that this hated dream had come back with that nasty little twist at the end. She let out a sigh. Probably about time to get started on dinner anyway.
She got up, and organized the tools that she'd left strewn about, then she grabbed a rag and got most of the grease off her face and hands, and headed to the engine room door. She was just about to step over the threshold, when she felt a light breeze brush by her leg. She looked down, and was startled to see a bright red balloon float past her foot, and into the passage way.
A chuckle sounded behind her, and she turned with dread to see something...someone...moving on the other side of the engine. As soon as she saw the peaked hat with the blue pom pom and those big black shoes, she let out a scream that could've woken the dead.
The clang of her door shocked her out of her dream, and she found Jayne's head peeking down into her quarters, the worry on his face not matching what came out of his mouth. "Gorram it, Kaylee, what the hell is goin' on?"
"Sorry, Jayne," she replied sheepishly, "Had a nightmare."
Jayne climbed down the ladder, and sat next to her on the bed, "You gonna be all right?" he asked gruffly.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"OK then. Y'know, it's bad enough that Crazy keeps us up all the time, don't need you doin' it too."
She took his teasing in stride, and gave him a light punch on the arm, "I'll keep that in mind. Now you get back to bed 'fore the Cap'n comes in here and thinks there's somethin' unseemly goin' on."
Jayne gave her a searching look, and she smiled, "I'm fine, really."
He climbed back up the ladder, then paused, "You need anything, you let me know." He gave her his best leer and a wink, then he was gone.
The smile on her face faded, and she all but tore apart her room checking all the nooks and crannies before she felt calm enough to go back to bed. And even then, she slept with the light on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmares: Simon
Another job had gone south, and Mal had yelled over the comm for River to have the ship ready to go as soon as they returned. Simon manned the control panel for the cargo hold doors waiting for River's signal to open her up, and Kaylee was tweaking Serenity's engine to make sure the ship wouldn't balk on takeoff.
He was surprised then, when his sister came clattering down the stairs. "River! You're supposed to be on the bridge!"
She shot him a wild look then yelled, "Too many of them...they're going to need help. Now open the doors, and get out of the way!" He hit the button, then she pushed him towards the stairs, "Get up there!" Simon hastily climbed up the stairs, and into Kaylee who'd heard the shouting. They stood by, and watched events unfold.
As the doors opened, Mal, Jayne, and Zoe sped in on the mule, with the men after them too close on their tails to shake. The men hopped off of their motorbikes and streamed after the crew into the cargo bay with guns blazing. While Mal and Jayne returned fire, Zoe dragged the goods off the back of the mule. It was fragile cargo, and with all the bullets flying around, they couldn't afford for it to be damaged.
That's when River got into the action. She leapt off the staircase rail and pummeled the nearest gunman, then with a flurry of kicks, ducks, and dives, took out two more. Just as the crew was getting the upper hand, River got caught in the crossfire and a bullet found its way to her, piercing her through the throat. It struck her carotid artery, and a torrent of blood began spray out, and down the front of her dress.
"River!" Simon yelled, then realized too late that he'd made a grave mistake. The gunmen, who hadn't paid any mind to the figures on the catwalk above, now turned their gazes upwards toward Simon and Kaylee. The two were unarmed, but they had no way of knowing that. Using the temporary diversion, Mal and Jayne managed to shoot the last three of their assailants, but not before one of them got off a clean shot in Kaylee's direction.
Simon reacted, but not quickly enough. He tried to push Kaylee out of the way but the bullet struck, shattering through his right hand and into her chest.
Zoe had run to River's side, and was putting pressure on the girl's neck to staunch the bleeding.
Mal spun around, "Doc! Where are you? River's bleedin' out!" When he looked up at Simon, however, he noticed the young doctor seemed to be in a state of shock, "Doc! You hearin' me? Get your ass down here!"
Simon headed down the stairs as quickly as he could manage. "Kaylee's been shot too," he whispered.
Mal noticed the doctor's ruined hand, "Ta ma de." Jayne bolted for the stairs, and he carried a gasping Kaylee down to the cargo bay floor.
"Doc...DOC!" Mal yelled, to get the stunned young man's attention, "What do we do?" When Simon only stammered, Mal smacked him across the face, "Doc, I need you to focus, can you fix 'em?"
By that time River had turned ashen, and began to choke on her own blood. Simon went to her, "Mei mei..."
River looked up at him with frightened eyes, "Simon?"
He'd never felt so helpless. His years of training told him that River was beyond help, and that Kaylee had suffered a punctured lung at the very least. River grabbed for him, "It's OK, Simon. Go to her, I'll be fine. I'll always be..."
Her head lolled to the side, and Zoe looked at him steadily. "Doc, Kaylee needs you now."
He tore himself away from his sister, and somehow managed to gain some composure, "Take Kaylee to the infirmary."
Jayne carried her into the infirmary as instructed, and placed her carefully on the table. Simon entered, and Kaylee looked up at him frantically, "Simon...can't...breathe." He put the pulse oximeter on her finger, then tried to get a chest tube in her but his left hand was clumsy, and it slipped. Kaylee cried out in pain, which only added to the his feelings of futility.
Mal grabbed it away, "Try and walk me through it, Doc."
Simon tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his hand, but it was so difficult. Kaylee coughed, and a stream of blood leaked from her lips. "Oh God," he thought, "she's bleeding internally." He shook himself, and managed to talk the captain through the procedure.
Mal got the chest tube in but was startled when a great gout of blood came out of the tube and onto his pants. He glanced worriedly at Simon, "Doc, this ain't workin'."
"I need...a scan...to see what's wrong."
"We ain't got time for that, Doc! You gotta do something!" Mal yelled, a tinge of hysteria coloring his voice. Simon knew the only way to help Kaylee immediately would be to crack her chest but they hadn't the tools. He tried to pick up a scalpel, but the broken bones and frayed tendons in his hand wouldn't let him hold onto it.
Kaylee was fading, and fast. The bullet had struck her heart, and it was pumping her life's blood into her chest cavity, and out of the tube. Meanwhile, Simon knew he was going into shock, and his mind wouldn't let him process what needed to be done.
As Kaylee's pulse got consistently weaker, she went into a seizure. Jayne and Mal did the best they could to hold her still. And then...flat line.
Simon awoke then, his eyes wide. It was his worst nightmare, to have the two most precious things in his life taken away from him while he stood by helplessly. He instinctively rubbed his right hand noting that it was, in fact, whole and unharmed.
He slipped out of bed, and crossed the hall to his sister's room. He slid the door open and found her sleeping quietly. The smoother he'd given her earlier had kept his fright from her, and for that he was thankful.
He then went in search of Kaylee, and found her tucked in her hammock in the engine room, with a trashy romance novel open on her chest. He smiled down at her, and if sensing his presence she opened her eyes. She returned the smile, "Hey, Simon."
Simon knelt down beside her, "What are you doing up here, bao bei? It's late, you should come to bed."
Kaylee knit her brows, sensing that something was wrong, "You OK, Simon? You seem a little spooked."
He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm fine now. Everything is just fine."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was surprised then, when his sister came clattering down the stairs. "River! You're supposed to be on the bridge!"
She shot him a wild look then yelled, "Too many of them...they're going to need help. Now open the doors, and get out of the way!" He hit the button, then she pushed him towards the stairs, "Get up there!" Simon hastily climbed up the stairs, and into Kaylee who'd heard the shouting. They stood by, and watched events unfold.
As the doors opened, Mal, Jayne, and Zoe sped in on the mule, with the men after them too close on their tails to shake. The men hopped off of their motorbikes and streamed after the crew into the cargo bay with guns blazing. While Mal and Jayne returned fire, Zoe dragged the goods off the back of the mule. It was fragile cargo, and with all the bullets flying around, they couldn't afford for it to be damaged.
That's when River got into the action. She leapt off the staircase rail and pummeled the nearest gunman, then with a flurry of kicks, ducks, and dives, took out two more. Just as the crew was getting the upper hand, River got caught in the crossfire and a bullet found its way to her, piercing her through the throat. It struck her carotid artery, and a torrent of blood began spray out, and down the front of her dress.
"River!" Simon yelled, then realized too late that he'd made a grave mistake. The gunmen, who hadn't paid any mind to the figures on the catwalk above, now turned their gazes upwards toward Simon and Kaylee. The two were unarmed, but they had no way of knowing that. Using the temporary diversion, Mal and Jayne managed to shoot the last three of their assailants, but not before one of them got off a clean shot in Kaylee's direction.
Simon reacted, but not quickly enough. He tried to push Kaylee out of the way but the bullet struck, shattering through his right hand and into her chest.
Zoe had run to River's side, and was putting pressure on the girl's neck to staunch the bleeding.
Mal spun around, "Doc! Where are you? River's bleedin' out!" When he looked up at Simon, however, he noticed the young doctor seemed to be in a state of shock, "Doc! You hearin' me? Get your ass down here!"
Simon headed down the stairs as quickly as he could manage. "Kaylee's been shot too," he whispered.
Mal noticed the doctor's ruined hand, "Ta ma de." Jayne bolted for the stairs, and he carried a gasping Kaylee down to the cargo bay floor.
"Doc...DOC!" Mal yelled, to get the stunned young man's attention, "What do we do?" When Simon only stammered, Mal smacked him across the face, "Doc, I need you to focus, can you fix 'em?"
By that time River had turned ashen, and began to choke on her own blood. Simon went to her, "Mei mei..."
River looked up at him with frightened eyes, "Simon?"
He'd never felt so helpless. His years of training told him that River was beyond help, and that Kaylee had suffered a punctured lung at the very least. River grabbed for him, "It's OK, Simon. Go to her, I'll be fine. I'll always be..."
Her head lolled to the side, and Zoe looked at him steadily. "Doc, Kaylee needs you now."
He tore himself away from his sister, and somehow managed to gain some composure, "Take Kaylee to the infirmary."
Jayne carried her into the infirmary as instructed, and placed her carefully on the table. Simon entered, and Kaylee looked up at him frantically, "Simon...can't...breathe." He put the pulse oximeter on her finger, then tried to get a chest tube in her but his left hand was clumsy, and it slipped. Kaylee cried out in pain, which only added to the his feelings of futility.
Mal grabbed it away, "Try and walk me through it, Doc."
Simon tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his hand, but it was so difficult. Kaylee coughed, and a stream of blood leaked from her lips. "Oh God," he thought, "she's bleeding internally." He shook himself, and managed to talk the captain through the procedure.
Mal got the chest tube in but was startled when a great gout of blood came out of the tube and onto his pants. He glanced worriedly at Simon, "Doc, this ain't workin'."
"I need...a scan...to see what's wrong."
"We ain't got time for that, Doc! You gotta do something!" Mal yelled, a tinge of hysteria coloring his voice. Simon knew the only way to help Kaylee immediately would be to crack her chest but they hadn't the tools. He tried to pick up a scalpel, but the broken bones and frayed tendons in his hand wouldn't let him hold onto it.
Kaylee was fading, and fast. The bullet had struck her heart, and it was pumping her life's blood into her chest cavity, and out of the tube. Meanwhile, Simon knew he was going into shock, and his mind wouldn't let him process what needed to be done.
As Kaylee's pulse got consistently weaker, she went into a seizure. Jayne and Mal did the best they could to hold her still. And then...flat line.
Simon awoke then, his eyes wide. It was his worst nightmare, to have the two most precious things in his life taken away from him while he stood by helplessly. He instinctively rubbed his right hand noting that it was, in fact, whole and unharmed.
He slipped out of bed, and crossed the hall to his sister's room. He slid the door open and found her sleeping quietly. The smoother he'd given her earlier had kept his fright from her, and for that he was thankful.
He then went in search of Kaylee, and found her tucked in her hammock in the engine room, with a trashy romance novel open on her chest. He smiled down at her, and if sensing his presence she opened her eyes. She returned the smile, "Hey, Simon."
Simon knelt down beside her, "What are you doing up here, bao bei? It's late, you should come to bed."
Kaylee knit her brows, sensing that something was wrong, "You OK, Simon? You seem a little spooked."
He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm fine now. Everything is just fine."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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