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Eddies

Chapter 2: A fall in spring.

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**

Chris woke with the hangover from hell, and a mouth full of dirt. Not an especially unusual occurrence for him, his fuzzy mind admitted, but at least it should have had the decency to be self inflicted, rather than due to external sources beyond his control. Yeah. About that. What...?

Opening his eyes with a start he coughed harshly, spitting out the mouthful of soil and leaves that had accumulated on his tongue as he lay unconscious, before he sat up, head swimming from the assault to his senses. The vertigo subsided after a few moments, and he reopened his tightly closed eyes cautiously, hoping the world would stop spinning long enough for him to throw up properly.

Fuck, he thought, inwardly cringing as the bright morning sunlight blasted his retinas. In the future, he had to remind himself never, ever, to get in this state without first consuming copious amounts of alcohol. He began involuntary retching, but with his stomach empty, only ended up with a mouthful of bile for his efforts, to complement the nature already there.

Once his stomach stopped heaving, he looked around warily, squinting into the undergrowth to check out the dense forest surrounding him. A forest that bore the unmistakable hint of spring, which should have had the decency to stay hidden within winter's grasp a good three months longer.

"Uuuhh" he said helpfully to a nearby bush, before standing shakily and looking around. As no reply was forthcoming, he continued his examination of his environment until his eyes caught the vine covered presence of the archway doorway behind him; one that was disturbingly missing a swirly interior. Rather than the inky blackness he'd experienced earlier, he could see the trees and branches of the forest through the opening, which bode somewhat badly for the promise of a return trip back home.

Crap, he cursed silently. What a shitter of a day.

Peering upwards through the branches, he could just see the blue sky above, dotted with puffy white clouds. The ground around him was fairly level, and no signs of the mountain terrain he had left greeted him.

Double crap, he thought, before spying his backpack lying unattended underneath some nearby branches. Oh well. At least one thing was going right today.

Dragging it out from cover, he rifled through the contents, relieved to find it had sustained no further damage during its adventure. His stainless steel water bottle was even more dented but still intact, so unscrewing the cap, he took a long swig of the contents, wincing at the slightly metallic taint to the lukewarm water hitting his throat. After several long pulls, he considered the bottle thoughtfully, giving it a shake to see how much of the contents remained. About a third full, he decided, rejecting a second drink in favour of conserving the remainder for later.

Not feeling overly hungry, he left the sealed food packed away, grabbing an apple instead. Like the bottle, it was a bit worse for wear, its skin showing the blemishes of the rough treatment it had received, but it still tasted good so he quickly consumed it to the core, as he sat and studied his surroundings curiously.

Weird trees, he thought. Especially so, given he was supposed to be semi-alpine climate and, like the weather, they were clearly not from that environ. Nor did he recognise any of the floral species, most of which had a bizarre appearance, out of kilter to anything he'd seen before.

Perhaps if he'd realised then that they were literally "out of this world", he might have saved himself from much of the trauma that followed.

Feeling antsy, and about as refreshed as he was likely to get, he shouldered his gear and began trudging along what was clearly an animal track of some kind. Not knowing what sort of animal had made it caused a momentary twinge of concern, especially in hindsight for his encounter with Mr Yellow Sparky earlier, but there really wasn't much he could do about it if the little arsehole attacked him again, apart from kick the little prick for a field goal if he showed his face further.

Feeling better at his gratuitous show of bravado towards large freaky rodents, Chris headed onwards, pushing through the branches and receiving numerous scratches as he went. While his bushman's skills weren't up to Gryll Bear standards (he drew the line on eating raw camel testicles) he was confident enough in his own abilities to at least keep himself alive, if not happy. Assuming nothing else untoward had a go at him again.

Pushing through one especially obnoxious blue berried shrub, sticky sap oozing to stain his already soiled shirt, his footing suddenly gave way as the ground beneath his feet disappeared. With a muffled yell, he lost his grip on the branch he had been holding, tipping face forwards into the abyss that had opened in front of him. Tucking his body into as small a ball as possible, he managed to avoid the more substantial timbers racing past him as he fell. Adrenalin rush limited the pain as his shoulders and back were pummelled during the descent, but even in the few mad seconds his mind had to try and make sense of the situation, he knew bruises might be just the start of the injuries he might end up with.

Within moments he'd dropped a good twenty feet, ending the fall with an almighty splash as he tore through the greenery to strike a deep rock pool, plunging to the sandy bottom before he kicked back towards the surface. Breaking air while coughing and spluttering, he began to draw his arm back to swim towards the bank, when a spear of agony lanced through his upper chest, sending him beneath the surface a second time as he curled up involuntarily in misery.

With air in his burning lungs running out quickly, he again breached the surface before kicking cautiously towards the bank, this time nursing his right arm against his chest with his left. The waterlogged pack threatened to drag him beneath the surface, but somehow he reached the water's edge to collapse in huddled misery as his lungs sought to recover from their shock.

As his mind finally began to clear, and his heart rate dropped towards normal, he carefully sat up, wincing at the pain stabbing into his right shoulder. Using his left hand, he unclipped the straps holding his pack across his shoulders, almost crying out at the sudden relief as the weight burden dropped from his back. Leaning back against the grassy bank bordering the water, he gritted his teeth before cautiously probing the shoulder with his good hand, groaning as his right arm refused to move as it was supposed to.

Dislocated at best, possibly broken, he cursed to himself. Now what...

A few half hearted attempts to straighten the right arm only succeeded in making him light headed from the pain. However, he determined there was no compound fracture present, nor had he sustained any other obvious serious injuries, although some of the bruises he felt would be pretty spectacular. Unfortunately, the increasingly obvious swollen bulge around his shoulder showed the true dislocation present. It might also be fractured, he mused, but that seemed the least of his issues now. Cautiously climbing to his feet, wincing again as a partially twisted right ankle strained under the weight, he lifted his pack gingerly before setting it on the ground above the bank. Clambering up the slippery slope with the use of only one arm was almost more than he could bear, and had him groaning in pain, but he made it soon enough, collapsing underneath one of the large trees bordering the pool.

With a fumbled grab, he secured his water bottle from his pack, removing the bung with his teeth before draining the lot on one swig. Water obviously wasn't going to be an issue in the near future, he thought to himself wryly, staring across the rippling pool below. However, his shoulder would be.

There was only one thing to do, unfortunately.

A quick glance around found one of the nearby trees had a Y shaped trunk, branching only 5 foot above the ground. Heart quickening at what he planned on attempting, he lifted his right arm with his left, groaning at the agony that shot upwards through the limb, and wedged his right hand firmly in the narrow space between the trunks. While his fingers refused to work as fully intended, he managed to form something resembling a fist, locking his arm in position.

Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth before jerking his frame away from the tree. Stabbing flashes of light speared across his vision as with an audible pop, the shoulder popped back into its socket.

How he had managed not to cry out, or pass out for that matter, was beyond him. The pain was excruciating, but still failed to outweigh the feeling of relief as his arm released from the gap and curled protectively against his chest. His fingers now worked properly too, unconsciously clenching as he dropped to the ground and rested against the tree trunk until his vision normalised.

Damn, that hurt!

The tree felt increasingly comfortable against his back, and whether it was the depletion of the adrenalin, or simple exhaustion, he found himself nodding off, pain notwithstanding. The second time he woke with a start, he forced himself to his feet, staggered to his pack and rummaged through the contents for his first aid kit. It took a few moments before he found what he sought, contents dropping to the ground from his shaking fingers, but tearing through the plastic package of the folded triangular bandage he'd found, he shook it open carefully, sighing in relief as it became evident it would work for the task he needed.

Tying the triangular bandage into a makeshift sling was not easy, but the relief he felt as his abused shoulder relaxed from carrying the weight of the arm was immediate. Careful not to fall on the slippery bank, he returned to the river bank and filled his canteen, taking long pulls of the cold water before replacing the bung and clambering back to his belongings. With the tent poles shattered during his bike crash, the best shelter he could manage was a makeshift tent draped over the tree branches, and with what remained of his strength, he crawled under the shelter, dragging his backpack after him. As a makeshift pillow, it was better than nothing, and his abused body settled quickly into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

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Skyy stirred fitfully in the too small confines of the cage, head pressed to the rough splintery wood of the floor, as he gasped painfully for each breath. The steel bars pressed against his back were icy, sending shivers rocking up a spine already tormented beyond breaking. Opening his one good eye, he tried to focus beyond the confines holding him, his other eye glued shut from the blood and gore trailing sluggishly from his forehead. He could barely make out the hulking forms of his two tormentors, sitting at a rude table with their backs towards him as they muttered between themselves. Even with his excellent hearing, he could barely make out the odd word here and there, although "big one" and "pelt" did garner a mention, sending an uncontrolled stab of fear through him. He tried lifting himself up, managing to get an arm underneath him before levering himself to a seated position, back supported by the very bars that had imprisoned him. When an involuntary gasp of pain escaped his lips, the pair halted their plotting and turned their baleful gaze to regard him, the larger one narrowing his eyes unpleasantly. As they approached, Skyy couldn't help pressing back away from them, at the least to escape the rank stench of stale sweat and beer that they exuded.

"Seems the animal is still with us, John", said the larger, and John nodded his head, unblinking gaze unerringly fixated on the cage's occupant.

"Sure do, Bob", John leered, thrusting his head forward causing Skyy to jerk back again, wincing as the back of his head contacted the cell wall.

John craned his face forward mere inches from the bars, staring at Skyy with cruel eyes, mouth twisting into a gaping grin, rotten teeth exposed in amusement.

"So, what do we do with you?" he sneered, jerking back as Skyy snarled at him, lunging forward to snap at his tormentor. Lip curled into a defiant grin at the reaction, Skyy dropped back in exhaustion, before lifting one hand and raising a middle finger in reply. As the sneer dropped from John's face, replaced by an angry snarl, Bob grabbed the shoulder of his partner, pulling him back as the man grabbed for a bloodied iron pipe he'd used to beat Skyy earlier. Eyes closing in desperation, Skyy dropped to the floor, exhaustion draining what little spirit he had left, as he awaited a further beating.

"Leave it in peace for now" said Bob, staring down at the prone form curled in the cage before them. "It'll get its due soon enough." Reluctantly, John withdrew, muttering darkly as he threw the pipe to the ground with a clang.

Spitting on the floor, Bob gave Skyy no further thought, turning to John and asked "I'm up for a brewski, and we're all out. I'm gonna head on over to O'Hara's and get us a carton. Leave that thing alone, alrighty? We don't need it any more dead yet!" John muttered a reluctant agreement, continuing to stare balefully at the cage, before cursing and spitting on the floor in turn. Pushing past his trapping partner, he slumped into a filthy, patched armchair in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames flickering before him. Bob pursed his lips, considering how wise it was to leave his friend alone with such a valuable prize, but with a grimace, he stomped from the cottage, grabbing his keys and wallet as he left. Only a few moments passed before, with a roar, their beat up pickup sprang to life outside, soon tearing up the gravel driveway towards the distant town.

Long minutes passed, as the redneck kept up his steadfast gaze at the fire. Skyy sighed and closed his eyes, in too much pain to be aware of the hard, cold floor pressing against his back. It wasn't until some time had passed that he heard the soft scuffing of feet on the floor that he raised his head to regard the human approaching, metal pipe again gripped tightly, and a look of fury and hate across his features. Skyy closed his eyes again, gritting his teeth and praying to Arceus to at least make his death quick as he was again struck over and over through the bars of the cage.

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It was the sound of the vehicle engines that woke Chris from his exhaustive sleep. Distant, but not so far that he couldn't get a vague direction on the source of the sound as his sleep clouded thoughts struggled to collect into some coherence. Forgetting his shoulder in the excitement of the moment, he reached out an arm, before dropping to the ground again as agony spearing through the joint.

Ooooooohhhhh...fuck, that hurt, he thought, cradling the limb against his chest, as tears streamed down his face at the shock. Note to self: keep arm still in future!

He struggled with his backpack, stuffing as much into it as he could in his hurry to find the owner of the vehicle. Civilization of any sort was better than nothing, and while the pain of the joint bit at him with every small movement, it didn't take him long to throw the pack haphazardly over his good shoulder, the bad arm snug and firm in its sling.

Avoiding misstep as he stumbled through the undergrowth towards the area the vehicle noise came from, Chris managed to travel a few hundred yards before the brush gave way to a rutted bush track, the evidence of a recent vehicle passing clear to see. Stopping before one of the muddy puddles, he could see the water had been washed along the track to the left by the vehicle's passing, indicating the direction it had travelled, but couldn't tell him whether he'd be better heading left or right. Thinking it was more likely the car had been going to somewhere, rather than from it, and given the countryside remained densely treed, he hedged his bets, taking the track to the right, and hoping he'd find help at the place it started from. Assuming it had actually started nearby, he thought dryly.

The soft sandy mud of the track slipped beneath his feet, threatening to cause him to stumble on several occasions. Each time he came close to falling, the shoulder throbbed its outrage at the mistreatment, so by the time he reached a small clearing containing the ramshackle cabin, he was dripping sweat with exhaustion.

However, even in his pain filled excitement at finding civilisation, there was something that caused him to pause before proceeding. Perhaps it was the weird animal skulls nailed to the nearby trees, or the racks of skinned pelts drying in putrid glory behind the building. More likely, it was the faint sounds of something calling out in obvious pain coming through the open door to the hovel. Regardless, it reeked of the whole "Wolf Creek; beware of the redneck" thing, and he decided proceeding with caution was better than upfront bravado.

Leaving his backpack behind the rusting remains of a trailer lying discarded on the side of the drive way, Chris approached the house from the side, careful to keep under as much cover as possible. Making his way through the trash and junk piled haphazardly in his way was slow going, and it didn't escape him that the cries leaving the confines of the building were weakening as he was delayed. By the time he slipped unnoticed underneath the side window, hunched down to avoid being seen by those inside, the noises had stopped, replaced by a more ominous silence.

Reaching his good hand to the window sill, he pulled himself upright, eyes cautiously scanning the dim interior, even as his nose wrinkled at the fetid odor seeping from within. While the light was poor, and the interior cluttered with even more crap, he could make out the outline of a large, metal cage within, and the hulking man standing over something huddled in the corner; an iron bar gripped tightly in one hand, now stained red with the blood of the cage's occupant.

Chris dropped back out of sight, mind seething with the cruelty he'd witnessed. While no angel himself, clearly whatever they had trapped deserved better treatment than that, and with his angst roused he left his shelter, making his way to the front of the building. Stepping onto the rickety porch, he winced as a low creak accompanied his steps, but the silence inside was not broken. Taking a deep breath in preparation, he pushed the door fully open, and stepped into the cabin's interior.

Tracing a route through the garbage within, Chris silently and cautiously approached the hulking brute standing before the cage, who was breathing heavily at his exertions. Chris realized it was only moments before the redneck turned and discovered his presence, and given his arm's current disability, he grabbed the closest thing at hand to arm himself; a ratty looking wooden headed golf club; the handle a nice, solid weight in his hand.

Perhaps it was simply misfortune that had the feral turn to him then, eyes widening in surprise as he raised the metal bar suddenly to strike Chris down. Perhaps just karma. Regardless, Chris brought the club around in an almighty swing to contact the side of the scumbag's head, a satisfying meaty thwack accompanying the contact. With a clang, the metal bar fell from loosened fingers to strike the timber below as the close set eyes of his attacker rolled backwards in his head, soon followed by the rest of him as he slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

Chris dropped his weapon from shaking fingers, leaning over the human he'd knocked out cold to check for signs of life, in the hope he hadn't killed the dirt bag. It was there, the deep, slobbery breathing lent Chris to give a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't killed the guy!

Stepping back, he noticed the blood splatter staining the man's shirt, before he scowled, spitting down on the inert form. "That's a fore, arsehole" he hissed, turning his attention to the cage in the corner.

The light was dim enough to mask the real form of the occupant, although as he stepped closer, the shape of its huddled body caused him to start. Blue and black fur covered a body vaguely humanoid, fox-like face set with a long muzzle slightly parted as it gasped for breath. In addition, it was big; much bigger than he had expected. Had it been standing, it would likely have near matched his tall form for height, he thought, as he drew his eyes from the creature to examine the cage door.

Secured with a large, antique styled bronze padlock, the catch didn't budge upon his initial prying. Shoulder twinging at the efforts, he gave up after a moment, returning to the unconscious human to look for the keys. Rolling the prone body over, he began a search of its filthy overalls, uncovering all sorts of unpleasantness, before feeling a solid metal object in a rear side pocket, that further investigations revealed as a large ring of keys, several of a size to fit the padlock on the cage.

Some fumbling ensured before the right one was inserted, but not before he hissed as a sharp edge of rusty ironwork on the door edge slashed his palm, splattering blood onto the cage bars and dirty floor below, where it mingled with the blood stains already present from the creature inside. Cursing his bad luck, he grabbed a disgusting looking rag off a nearby crate, crudely binding the wound as the door finally gave way with a begrudging creak.

While clearly unconscious, he approached the occupant cautiously, mindful of the sharp appearing teeth that filled its mouth, but when a gentle prod of a foot caused not a stir, he bent down and rolled the too-light body onto its back, examining the wounds across its torso and back with a shuddering gasp.

Shit. That would hurt later, he thought, pressing a hand to its neck and feeling for a pulse. It was there, light and fluttery against his fingers, and as he withdrew them slowly, surprised at the warmth of the fur beneath his touch, the black eyelids fluttered open, red irises regarding him intently as a soft, exhausted voice said "Arceus' sake! If you're going to finish the job, do it now, huh? I'm tired of your company as it is".**